Chapter Text
The course of Neil’s life changes around half past 3 on an otherwise unremarkable Thursday afternoon.
(In hindsight, he could admit that things had slowly been changing before then, but that one day in early September was the ultimate catalyst.)
It’s the long stretch of day between lunch and dinner, and it’s usually around this time that Neil would stop at his office for a quick snack. He’s tired today, though, more than usual, so he veers off to the nearest breakroom for some coffee. Stepping inside, he notices two nurses chatting quietly over their own break, near the back of the room. Lim’s there as well, and he catches her eye—no words need to be exchanged, she simply nods to the counter over her own mug, indicating (God bless her) that she’s just made a fresh pot.
Neil goes about fixing his coffee, deciding to leave it a bit on the stronger side; he already feels more awake from the scent alone.
He lets it cool a little before taking a sip and sighing, “I think I love you.”
“Why Neil,” Audrey’s smirking at him, “I had no idea.”
“I was talking to the coffee,” he says, around a smile. Upon hearing her grumble something he’s pretty sure is unflattering, he relents with, “Alright. Maybe you, too.” She doesn’t answer him, but seems appeased enough.
Since he doesn’t have anywhere to be right this minute, he lingers as he drinks it and starts a running list in his head of all the things he needs to get done after he’s finished with his impromptu break.
The door opens again and Shaun walks in, pausing briefly to survey the room as Neil holds up his coffee in lieu of a verbal greeting.
“Good afternoon,” Shaun says politely, mostly as a general ‘hello’ to everyone in the room. Lim tips her cup slightly in silent response and the nurses vaguely wave in his direction as Shaun grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Where have you been all day?” Neil asks. He’d seen much less of Shaun than usual today, and had noted his absence since that morning, meaning to ask him about it.
“I have been here,” Shaun answers (which is really no answer at all).
“‘Here’, huh?” Neil says wryly. “That’s very specific.”
“Did you miss me?” Shaun asks, with a growing smile.
“No, it was rather refreshing,” Neil says lightly, as he smiles in return. (He can say things like that now and Shaun knows he’s kidding.) “I didn’t have to listen to you ramble on about whatever topic you’ve chosen for the day.” He glances into his mug. “Like the history of coffee, for example.”
“You like when I ramble,” Shaun insists, as he uncaps his water and takes a sip.
“I do not!” Neil makes sure his protests are intentionally over the top. “And how dare you suggest such a thing?”
“I’d like to know the history of coffee,” Lim offers.
“Traitor,” Neil mildly accuses. “I take back what I said earlier: I no longer love you.”
“Somehow, I’ll live.” Her tone is so dry that it rivals Neil’s even on his most sarcastic days.
“Neil would like to know the history of coffee, as well,” Shaun informs her, as if Neil’s not even in the room.
Neil rolls his eyes, but it’s unmistakably fond. He also doesn’t argue with Shaun, because he’s right. Of course he’s right. Neil likes hearing whatever stories Shaun chooses to tell, and he’s yet to bring up a topic that Neil finds boring. (Sometimes Neil wonders if maybe it’s not so much the stories themselves that he likes, but more the person who’s telling them.)
In the year since Shaun started working at their hospital, they’ve become friends. Actual friends. And that still kind of surprises Neil when he thinks about it. He’d certainly never have expected it based on the way they’d clashed when they first met. But after a sincere apology from Neil, their dynamic had shifted, to the point that Neil might even describe Shaun as one of his closest friends.
He hadn’t tried to make it happen, either, it just did. He’s not entirely sure how, or why, but it did. He’d never become friends with one of his residents before, not the way he is with Shaun—sure, he’s friendly with all of them, but he’s always kept a clear line between himself and his subordinates. It makes things a lot easier that way. But with Shaun…there had never been a line. Forget enforcing it, Neil had been incapable of setting one. He just likes Shaun too much and the last thing he wants to do is limit their interactions in any kind of way.
While he’s lost in thought, Audrey and Shaun begin discussing the last fundraising gala—more specifically, how much they both hated it. Audrey because she’d been coming off a last-second forced double shift and had been exhausted, Shaun because he’s not a fan of events like that, in general. Too much noise, too many people, being pulled in a half-dozen different directions at once—Neil can definitely sympathize because he dislikes that last part, too, and if he doesn’t like it (when he’s much better equipped at dealing with social interactions) then he can only imagine Shaun’s constant level of discomfort during the events that are a mandatory part of their job.
As time has gone on and Shaun’s attended more things—banquets and fundraisers and conferences—he’s steadily become more well-known in their field. That viral airport video of him had kicked it off (and people still ask him about that, quite often), but he’s done plenty since then to further his reputation, including publishing a few papers. Everyone’s noticed his rise in popularity, and none more than Marcus, who has slowly been pushing Shaun front and center at more events. (Technically there’s an entire committee whose sole job is to bring in more money to their hospital, but Marcus now oversees it, in what Neil is 98% certain is an effort to impress the board and set himself up as de facto next in line to succeed Aaron as hospital president when the older man finally retires.)
In any event, people love Shaun—he not only elevates the reputation of their hospital, but he easily brings in donors. Which means Marcus loves him, in turn (and on most days, Neil thinks Shaun is their boss’s favorite person on the entire staff).
At first, Neil had serious reservations about the increasing obligations Marcus put upon Shaun (who is still only a second-year resident). He’d even been planning to speak to him about it, until he had a heart-to-heart with Shaun, who’d told him that even though he’s not fully comfortable with the social aspect of any of their events, he can do it. He wants to do it. (Even if, at times, he outright hates being there.) Their hospital gets government funding and grants, but they could always use more money. Private donations go a long way towards allowing them to upgrade equipment, fund research, and otherwise keep pace in a medical field that advances by the literal day.
Shaun had summed it up quite simply, in a way that put Neil’s concerns to rest: More money means less people die. And that was the entire reason Shaun had become a surgeon in the first place. (So of course Shaun would never refuse anything Marcus asks him to do, not when he knows how much of a difference he’s making.)
After their talk, Neil had let it go; Shaun can take on as much as he wants—far be it from Neil to ever try and stop him. A major benefit is that the more events Shaun attends, the better he gets at interacting with others, which is only going to help him down the road. Still, Neil knows that despite the outward demeanor Shaun’s (usually) successful at putting on, that’s never the way he truly feels. Shaun’s anxiety and unease is always present at those kinds of events. Neil tries to do what he can to help him, but he’s not always successful. After all, Neil’s fairly popular himself, and the two of them are constantly being separated at events, with Marcus often sending them in opposite directions. (Neil can’t exactly refuse their boss, either. What would he even say? No thanks, I’m not leaving Murphy’s side, because…well, I have no reason other than I don’t want to. Yeah, that wouldn’t seem odd and it’d go over real well with Marcus.)
Neil shakes himself out of his thoughts in time to register that Shaun and Audrey are wrapping up their conversation; Shaun moves to leave, but before he can, someone appears in the open doorway of the breakroom. Neil somewhat recognizes him, but not enough to know his name for certain—Elton? Eldredge? He’d recently transferred from another hospital and he’s not in their department. He looks to be a few years older than Shaun, but Neil has no actual clue. He’s definitely closer in age to Shaun than Neil is, though.
“Shaun!” the newcomer exclaims, surprising Neil that the two of them know each other. “I’ve been looking around for you all day.”
“Dr. Ellis,” Shaun says courteously, but there’s something off about his tone that leaves Neil wondering why Shaun doesn’t like him. (Because he doesn’t, and it’s obvious—maybe not to anyone else in the room, but it is to Neil.)
That’s when Shaun does something rather curious: he turns and wanders over to the counter where Neil’s been standing since he entered the room. The move seems aimless, like it was done without thought, but Neil knows better, because Shaun comes to a stop much closer to him than he normally otherwise would. And maybe he’s less cautious about maintaining personal space with Neil and his other friends than he is with strangers, but it’s still too close for Shaun’s normal level of comfort—if either of them moved a few inches over, they’d be touching.
Ellis has been staring at Shaun, but then his eyes move over to Neil, before glancing around the room, as if noticing for the first time that there are other people present. “Shaun, can I talk to you alone?”
“No,” Shaun answers, without preamble.
Neil almost laughs, because it’s such a Shaun Murphy answer—he’s gotten much better at diplomacy the longer he’s worked at Saint Bonaventure, but when it’s not necessary for his job, Shaun doesn’t bother pretending to like people he doesn’t like.
“Please?” Ellis asks, and Neil instantly finds him grating. (Maybe that’s why Shaun doesn’t like him.)
“No,” Shaun firmly repeats. Neil shifts so he can lean further back against the counter, but Shaun must interpret it as a sign he’s about to move away, because he actually reaches out and takes hold of his wrist.
Neil glances down, and yes, that’s definitely Shaun’s hand wrapped around his arm. Shaun has touched him before; it’s not often, but it happens occasionally. He’s never done this, though, taken hold of him like he’s afraid Neil’s going to leave.
He’s busy wondering exactly what’s going on when Shaun inadvertently supplies the answer for him.
“I have told you,” Shaun says slowly, directing that at Ellis, “that I have no interest in dating you.”
Ellis either doesn’t know how to read a room, or he’s just that oblivious, because he flashes a charming smile at Shaun and says, “Bet I could change your mind.”
Shaun tightens his grip on Neil’s wrist and Neil unconsciously leans closer to him, even as his entire focus narrows on Ellis, still standing in the doorway of the breakroom.
“You have been trying to change my mind since we met,” Shaun says sharply. “You are not going to be successful.”
Ellis shrugs, like that answer doesn’t bother him, but as he glances around the room, it’s clear that he’s embarrassed by the flat out rejection. “Hey,” he tries to claim, as he grabs a soda from the fridge, “I was just making an effort at being friendly. Getting to know people here better.”
Neil thinks about saying something, is even debating the best tactic to take, but Shaun’s next statement kills any plan he’d had of speaking up.
“I am in a relationship,” Shaun declares.
“What?” Ellis says, like he must have misheard that. (And his reaction of confusion is about the same as Neil’s—except Neil wants to demand who Shaun’s supposedly in a relationship with and how come he’s never so much as mentioned it.)
“I am in a relationship,” Shaun repeats, finally letting go of Neil’s wrist, but it’s only so he can slide his hand down and lace his fingers through Neil’s. Neil’s too stunned to ask what he’s doing, or even to pull away for that matter. (It’s a damn good thing he hadn’t taken a sip of his coffee, either, because he would have choked on it at Shaun’s next words.) “With Dr. Melendez.”
The silence that falls after that is deafening. Audrey isn’t moving, is simply staring at them with obvious fascination. The nurses have leaned forward in their seats. Ellis is gaping at them in a display of true shock, and Neil—Neil doesn’t think he can move, doesn’t even think he could speak, right then. (Which is probably a good thing, because he has no idea what he’d even say, in that moment.)
Shaun had spoken with such absolute certainty that Neil almost believes him. Had Shaun been confused, or mistaken, about the nature of their friendship? Or has Neil simply lost it, and they have been together, but he’s suffering from some sort of amnesia?
But no, it doesn’t take long for him to catch up and put everything together. He can feel the hold Shaun has on his hand, he can feel the silent plea in it: to play along, to not pull away, to not counter his statement and reveal that, for whatever reason, Shaun had decided to compose such a lie.
Because if Shaun Murphy, of all people, had felt compelled to reach out to Neil in this way, and to create an entire relationship in the span of a few seconds, then he needs this.
And Neil Melendez has always found it near-impossible to deny Shaun of anything.
“You. And—and Melendez.” Ellis is borderline sputtering, gesturing between them with his can of soda. “You’re in a relationship.” He clearly doesn’t believe it, though he falters when he belatedly notices that they’re holding hands. “You two.”
Shaun incrementally tightens his grip on Neil’s hand, and they’re standing close enough that Neil can hear him breathing faster; Neil thinks his resident might be panicking—whether at fear of Neil contradicting him, or in growing horror and realization at what he’d impulsively done. (Maybe it’s both.) And it’s surely not a great idea to confirm that they’re together when they aren’t, but when has Neil ever let that stop him from doing anything?
He lightly returns the pressure on Shaun’s hand in reassurance and looks directly at Ellis. “We are together.” He knows he made the right choice when all the tension leaves Shaun (who actually leans against him a little in relief).
“You are,” Ellis numbly echoes, probably for lack of anything else to say. Then he frowns, like he’s trying to figure something out. “Aren’t you his boss? Is that even allowed?”
No, it’s probably not. (Nor does Neil care.) He drops his tone to somewhere between disdainful and murderous. “Is that some kind of threat?”
Ellis takes an actual step backwards. “What? No, of course not!”
“I’ll let it go because you’re fairly new here, but if I say something’s allowed, then it’s allowed.” It’s not even a bluff—Neil’s not exactly worried, here. He pretty much does things the way he wants to, and so long as he keeps excelling at his job, Marcus cuts him a lot of slack. As for Shaun, well, he could probably ask for anything and get it, based on how much Marcus and the board love him. (Not that Shaun’s ever taken advantage of that, but he definitely could.)
“I… I had no idea.”
“And why are you still here?” Neil’s tone is deceptively mild, but the question warns of clear and lasting misery in the other man’s future if he doesn’t get the hell out.
“I was just leaving,” Ellis quickly assures, holding his hands up and nearly dropping his soda in the process. He’s already backing towards the door, which shows he does have some degree of intelligence. “Sorry Shaun. Dr. Melendez. If I’d known, I never would have… Sorry. Again.”
He’s out the door in the next second and Neil looks around the room with a silent order so obvious that it sends the nurses scattering.
Audrey rises as well, though more slowly—she’s trying really hard not to laugh, and her next statement reveals why. “If Neil Melendez says something’s allowed, then it’s allowed. You never cease to entertain me.”
“Audrey.” He fails to stifle a sigh as he nods towards the door. “Please.”
She graces them both with a warm smile (though it’s probably more for Shaun than him) and Neil expects her to let on that she’s aware of what Shaun just did. Instead, she surprises him by saying, “You could have been more open about it. You know we all would have been supportive.” As she leaves, she pulls the door shut behind her in a thoughtful move to give them privacy.
Neil replays her words: They should have been more open about it? The others would have been supportive? Apparently, she’d been under the impression that he and Shaun were together already, which is odd in and of itself, but Neil has other things to focus on right now. More specifically, one very important thing:
Shaun Murphy. Who isn’t speaking. And hasn’t moved. (In fact, Neil’s a little startled to realize they’re still holding hands even though they’re the only two people in the room and there’s no one to try and convince anymore.)
Neil sips his coffee before settling on what to say. “Next time we start a relationship, Murphy, remember to tell me about it, would you?”
Shaun laughs a little, and then risks a glance at him, which reminds Neil he hadn’t looked at him once when Ellis was in the room. (Which also reminds Neil how much he hates it when Shaun won’t look at him.)
“I am sorry,” Shaun says quietly, as he stares at their clasped hands, and there’s so much guilt in his voice that it pains Neil to hear it. Shaun seems to shake himself out of whatever state he’s in and carefully lets go of Neil before taking a step away from him. “What I did was inappropriate. I should not have…used you to…”
“Get him to leave you alone?” Neil fills in.
“Yes,” Shaun admits.
“Hey.” Neil turns to face Shaun directly. “You can use me for things like that whenever you want, okay? I don’t mind.” He waits for Shaun to nod, then asks, “What exactly has Ellis been doing?”
“He has asked me out several times. Trying various ways to convince me. I considered reporting him, but he seems genuinely friendly. He has never said anything inappropriate. He has never touched me. Nothing he’s done has crossed any kind of line.”
“He made you uncomfortable,” Neil says. “That’s crossing a line. Telling him ‘no’ once should have been sufficient.”
Shaun shrugs, seeming lost. “It is difficult to determine. And we both know…”
“What?”
Shaun looks away. “I am not comfortable with many things that most people are comfortable with. Things that are not harassment. If I reported everyone who ever made me uncomfortable, I would…report everyone. So…” He sighs, then repeats, “It is difficult to determine.”
Neil had never really thought about that before. It must be extremely hard for Shaun to figure out what crosses a line if so much crosses his own personal lines—things that others would find innocuous, harmless, or fail to register. Even things that others would interpret as supportive or caring gestures. On top of that, Shaun’s personal boundaries are things that a lot of people, especially new people, aren’t aware even exist. (Some part of Neil’s heart sinks at the thought of how uncomfortable Shaun must be a lot of the time, just as a matter of course in his daily life, and he has no choice but to soldier through and ignore it.)
Shaun’s staring at his own hands. “I—I think I crossed more of a line than he ever did. Lying about…” He swallows, folding his hands and looking across the breakroom, towards the exit. “Again, I am sorry. I will tell everyone that I lied.” He’s about to leave, but Neil reaches out to grasp his shoulder and keep him in place. (This is too important to let him walk away before it’s resolved to Neil’s satisfaction.)
“This is different,” Neil says, gesturing between them. “With you and me, it’s different. You didn’t cross any line with me because…” God, because with Shaun, he has no lines. (Though he has no idea how to say that without sounding inappropriate, himself.)
“Because?” Shaun prompts, when Neil doesn’t speak.
“Because…I don’t mind what you did. I just told you that you can use me to get out of any situation you aren’t comfortable with, if it’ll help. Do you understand?”
Shaun hesitates before nodding. “Are you…certain? I touched you without your permission.”
“I’m certain. And you have touched me before,” Neil says gently. “Not often, but have I ever gotten upset?”
“No,” Shaun admits. “But I have never held your hand before. If someone did that to me without my permission…I would not like it.”
“We’re friends,” Neil says, feeling like Shaun needs that particular reminder right now. “And you know I don’t feel the same discomfort with touching people as you do. So, one last time: I. Don’t. Mind.”
Shaun nods again, then extends a finger and taps Neil lightly (and repeatedly) on his arm, while studying his face.
After thirty seconds of resolutely pressing his mouth into a straight line to prevent himself from laughing, Neil can’t take it anymore. “What are you doing?”
“Observing your reaction.”
“Which is?”
“Amusement.” Shaun frowns, like he’s not quite satisfied. “I’ll have to conduct further research when you are not expecting it.”
“You do that, Murphy.” He turns to pick up his coffee again, mostly to repress the strong and sudden urge to pull Shaun into a hug. “Report your findings to me. Maybe you can even write them up.” He waves his free hand like he’s reading a research study’s title: “Reactions of a Surgical Attending to Instances of Random Touching: An Observational Study.”
“Hmm,” Shaun hums. “Your title needs work.”
“Your title,” Neil reminds him.
“I will take it under advisement.” Shaun pokes him in the arm again and Neil can’t stop his laughter anymore. “Mirth,” Shaun murmurs. “Interesting.”
“Mirth and amusement are the same thing.”
“Amusement is milder. Mirth is…genuine enjoyment and happiness.” He’s staring at Neil now, and the wheels are practically visible as they turn in his head.
“There’s your answer then. Happiness.” He reaches over to tap Shaun’s own arm in reassurance, and slight question. “Does that finally convince you that I didn’t mind what you did?”
“Maybe,” Shaun allows, and he’s smiling now, too, and there’s an idea forming in Neil’s mind, growing and coalescing until it overtakes everything else.
“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Neil can tell Shaun’s lost on the question, because they’ve gotten away from the topic he’s referring to. “People asking you out?” he clarifies. “Or otherwise making you uncomfortable because they don’t understand what your boundaries are?”
Shaun thinks about that. “Maybe. Kind of?”
“Murphy.”
Shaun’s shoulders fall as he fidgets in front of Neil. “Yes. More so now than ever before. Because Dr. Andrews has…” He stops, then starts again. “The more I do for our hospital, the more people I meet… Yes, it has been happening more. People are usually very understanding once I explain that I do not want a relationship with anyone. That I prefer to keep my distance from people. However, it is tiresome having to…always explain.”
”You told me that you were going to confess to Audrey and the others that you lied,” Neil carefully reminds him. “That decision is up to you, Shaun. If you want to tell them, then tell them. But I have another suggestion…” Neil takes a breath, thinking about how this is the best way he knows to help Shaun with this problem. (The only way he knows how to help him with this.) “Let people continue to believe we’re together.”
Shaun’s staring at him with some mixture of confusion and surprise. “…What?”
“No one will ask you out anymore if it becomes a ‘known’ fact that we’re in a relationship. For anyone who isn’t aware, like a patient or someone you meet at an event, just tell them about us. It’ll make life easier for you. You won’t have to always explain yourself. I’ve found that saying you’re in a relationship is the fastest way to fend off unwanted attention. It’s a fact which 99% of people automatically accept without question or protest.”
“I would not know,” Shaun admits, shifting uncomfortably. “I have never…”
“That doesn’t matter,” Neil says, brushing aside his confession, because it’s not important. “You already know all of this on some level, Shaun, because your instincts were right—you saw how quickly Ellis backed down. There’s the added benefit that no one who knows me will ever do anything to cross me. Like harass you. In any way.”
“You would… You would pretend I meant that much to you?”
“There’s nothing ‘pretend’ about it,” Neil assures him. “You already mean that much to me. You’re one of my best friends.”
Shaun takes that in before saying, “I feel the same.”
Neil can’t even categorize the rush of relief he feels upon hearing that. (It’s pretty much always been known, but they’ve never actually said these kinds of things out loud.) “Here’s the thing, Shaun: people don’t place friendships on the same level as they do romantic relationships. It’s simply a fact of life that the latter is respected much more. So if we let people believe we’re together…that would have an immediate effect on how people view us—and how they interact with us—that we couldn’t achieve any other way.”
“You would…do this for me?” Shaun’s still skeptical, but there’s something more in his voice…it’s perilously close to hope.
Everything in Neil warms at the way Shaun’s looking at him. “I would do this for you,” he confirms. (He’d do anything for Shaun, probably.)
“But…what about you?”
“What about me?”
“If everyone thinks we’re together, then you could not date anyone.”
“Have you seen me date anyone since Jessica?” Neil asks, then teasingly adds, “I mean, besides you?”
“No.”
“There’s your answer. Just like you, I don’t want a relationship right now. It’s been long enough since Jessica that people have hinted around the topic, or offered to set me up with their friends or neighbors or third cousins. But I currently have no interest, so you’d be a great cover.”
Neil’s not lying, either. The thought of another relationship now is still too mentally exhausting (being with Jessica had been so much work for both of them, especially at the end). Even so, while getting people to back off about his own personal life is a side benefit, the main reason Neil wants to do this is to help Shaun.
“If you are sure, then okay.” Shaun takes a deep breath, then says formally, “Thank you.”
“Hey, it’s not like this will be any hardship for me.” Neil nudges Shaun’s arm and then takes another sip of his rapidly cooling coffee. “It’ll make me look good if people think I landed you. And you know how much I love making myself look good.”
“That is not difficult,” Shaun lightly replies.
Neil presses a hand to his chest. “Was that—did you just compliment me, Murphy?”
“No,” Shaun claims (though his eyes say yes). “Claire told me that some people find you attractive.”
He feigns annoyance. “Only ‘some’?”
“A lot more than ‘some’,” Shaun relents. “Based on what the nurses say, too.”
“I’m really enjoying this conversation,” Neil smirks at him. “By all means, keep going.”
Now Shaun seems (inexplicably) exasperated. “I believe I have said too much already.”
“You know, you’re not exactly unattractive yourself.”
“That is quite the compliment from my…” Shaun hesitates, eyeing him. “What should I call you?”
“Neil?” he offers, as if he doesn’t know exactly what Shaun’s getting at.
Shaun huffs out a breath. “Boyfriend?”
Neil’s mind skips over that word. It has been a long time since anyone used that word with him (because he knows Jessica never did) and he’s having flashbacks to med school. It also feels inadequate, somehow, and has the additional, discomfiting element of being decidedly untrue.
“Let’s go with partner,” Neil suggests, surprised at how right that sounds. No, more than sounds—it feels right. “We’re partners, okay?” (Yes, that definitely fits, because they’re partners in this relationship, pretend as it might be.)
“Partners,” Shaun slowly repeats. “That works. I like it.”
“I like it, too.” Neil studies him, taking in the brightness of Shaun’s eyes, the way he’s leaning slightly into Neil’s space, the half-smile on his face—everything about him. Everything. Shaun’s happy and it’s such an obvious and complete reversal from earlier, when he’d been talking to Ellis, that all Neil feels is happy, too. (He made the right decision.)
“Do you think we should…” Shaun hesitates until Neil nods in indication to go on. “Should we tell people?”
“How long have you worked here?” Neil asks dryly, as he glances at the clock on the wall. “They left ten minutes ago and it’s going on 4—everyone will know by 5, at the latest.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
With uncanny timing, the breakroom door opens and one of Lim’s residents walks in, freezing when he sees Neil and Shaun standing not even a foot apart over at the counter. “Oh! I didn’t know you two were in here—I’m sorry.” He hastily backs out, slamming the door behind him with a crash that leaves Neil wincing.
Neil holds a hand out towards the door, silently telling Shaun, You see?
Shaun only seems confused. “Why did he run out of here?”
“He clearly knows we’re ‘together’,” Neil uses air quotes, “and he found us in here alone. What do you think he thought he might be interrupting?”
Shaun’s eyes widen. “It is the middle of the workday!” He sounds downright scandalized, then looks around the room with something akin to horror (or maybe like he never wants to touch anything in the room ever again). “Have you seen people…”
“No, Shaun, I’ve never seen anyone making out in the breakroom.” He waits a beat. “Probably because it’s always too busy.”
He opens the door for Shaun and the two of them head back towards the main lobby of the surgical wing. They get halfway there before Shaun asks curiously, “Where is it not too busy?”
“You offering?” Neil quips.
“I want to avoid those areas,” Shaun stresses, disapprovingly, as Neil starts laughing. For the first time, he considers their relationship from an outsider’s point of view: their interactions speak to a certain affection (a definite fondness) between them that others might easily misinterpret. Things have naturally evolved that way, especially over the last few months; however, neither of them is interested in a romantic relationship with the other, so what’s the harm?
It’s no wonder, really, that Audrey had spoken as if she already believed they were together. Maybe others believe that, too. Neil doesn’t mind, though. If nothing else, his existing friendship with Shaun only makes things easier. If people already think they’re a couple, why not turn that around and use it to their advantage? Then down the road, when one or both of them thinks it’s time, they’ll stage a fake break-up or something.
(A long, long ways down the road—they don’t want to risk giving the impression their relationship’s fake, after all.)
Chapter Text
Neil has no idea if he’s right about the whole hospital knowing by 5 that evening, but they definitely know by the time he’s getting ready to wrap things up for the night.
“Took you long enough.”
The quiet words snap Neil out of the trance he’s been in for who knows how long. (He hasn’t been able to keep his focus on anything since he left the breakroom.) He glances up from his laptop to find Jessica standing in his office doorway, arms crossed while she watches him with an air of satisfaction, and is that…exasperation?
“What?”
“To admit it,” she says, like that’s supposed to clarify anything to him.
“To admit what?”
“This is the game we’re playing?” She pushes herself off the doorframe and comes over to stand in front of his desk. “You’re really going to sit there and pretend like you didn’t announce to half the hospital that you and Shaun are dating?”
Of course. Jessica must have assumed he and Shaun had been together for a while and keeping it quiet. (Just like Audrey had assumed, for that matter.)
“It wasn’t half the hospital,” he protests (because he’d like to point that out, thanks). “It was four people. Though with the way news spreads around here like wildfire, one probably would have been more than—”
“Neil. Stop trying to change the subject.”
“Is that something I’d do?”
“Spare me,” she scoffs.
“Fine,” he immediately gives up, because they both know she has an uncanny ability to read him. (She’s so good at seeing through him, in fact, that in the past, she’d sometimes called him out on his mere intention to lie before he’d even spoken a word—whatever his tells must be, Jessica knows them backwards and forwards.) He resigns himself to an interrogation and asks, “What do you want to know?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s disappointment in her tone and it sets him on edge. He automatically sifts through every possible reason for her unhappiness. Jealousy is easy to dismiss right off the bat—she’s been in a happy relationship for over six months. Maybe she doesn’t like the idea of him and Shaun together? Because maybe there are actual issues that he’s overlooked, even if none of this is real? He has to admit that it’s a definite possibility—after all, it wasn’t like he’d thought this ‘Let’s pretend to be in a relationship!’ plan through—unless having it occur to him and telling Shaun within two minutes counted as ‘thinking it through’… (It probably doesn’t.)
“I…couldn’t have told you,” he says, which is 100% true. He couldn’t have told her because there had been nothing to tell.
“Don’t you trust me?” She presses both hands on his desk, leaning slightly over it. “I would have kept it a secret if you two weren’t ready to tell people. I know we’re not…” she motions between them, “but you can trust me. We’re still friends.”
So that’s where her disappointment is coming from. He instantly relaxes, relieved he isn’t going to have to defend himself, or Shaun, or their relationship. (Fake relationship.) “We’re friends and I do trust you, Jess. Honestly, there was nothing to tell until very recently.” (Very recently being some three hours earlier, but she doesn’t have to know that.)
“I thought you knew better than to lie to me,” she sighs, pressing her mouth into a discontented line.
“I’m not lying to you.” He’s so lost that he doesn’t even know what she thinks he’s lying about.
“Drop the act, Neil. It serves no purpose. I have always been—and will always be—on your side.” Her expression softens. “And Shaun’s. Of course.”
“Jess, I’m really not sure what—”
“I’ve known about you two for months,” she interrupts, and strangely enough, she seems giddy when she says that. Like the relief of this being out in the open has lifted some burden from her.
“You have.” It’s meant to be a question, but he can’t manage it—he’s insanely curious how she could have known for months something that he and Shaun only agreed to start misleading everyone about today.
“Yes. It was obvious.” She takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, crossing her legs and absently smoothing down her shirt. “I’m sure you both thought you were good at hiding it, but pretty much everyone knew.”
“We weren’t hid–” He cuts himself off as her words register. “What do you mean by everyone?”
“Hmm, what does ‘everyone’ mean…” She taps her hand against her chin in faux-contemplation. “An entire group? All people?”
“Don’t do that,” he warns, pointing at her. “Don’t try to—to Murphy your way out of answering me.”
“I never noticed Shaun did that,” she lies, even as her grin gives away that she knows exactly what he’s talking about. “And it’s kind of adorable that you’ve named that tactic after him, can I just say?”
“No, you can’t say,” he tells her flatly. “And you’re still attempting evasion, just in a different manner.”
She’s studying him now, squinting a little in thought and apparent confusion. “By ‘everyone’, I obviously meant our hospital’s staff,” she tells him, like it should be obvious. “It was about evenly split, too. Half of them thought you were already together, the other half thought you were still on your way there.”
“You must be kidding.” This conversation is getting more absurd by the second—to the point that he almost expects her to announce this is all a practical joke at his expense.
Her expression falters, becoming a strange mix of regretful and apologetic. “I’m completely serious. It’s not…it wasn’t like we were all talking about you behind your back—”
“That’s exactly what it sounds like.” He’s gone beyond floored; now he’s feeling pretty blindsided. How could so many people have believed something that wasn’t—that had never been—true?
“You’re misconstruing what I’m saying,” she tells him. “It wasn’t about prying into your lives or about anything mean-spirited, in the least. It’s that…we could see how much you mean to each other. That’s all.”
Neil’s somewhat placated by that, because he and Shaun do mean a lot to each other, but that still doesn’t clear up his confusion about the rest of what she’s saying. “You can’t be serious that everyone thought we were…together.”
“Okay, I might be exaggerating,” she relents, “but even those who didn’t believe it, or didn’t know about the gossip, were still able to tell that your relationship changed months ago.”
Months ago. She must be referring to the previous spring, when he and Shaun started becoming friendlier. And their friendship had only grown over the past summer, and now… Well, now, apparently, a good number of their colleagues have been operating under the assumption that their relationship had transformed into something more than friendship a long time ago.
“We’re friends,” he hears himself insisting to Jess, feeling suddenly defensive. (How had he not known about this? Had he and Shaun both been oblivious? Or had Shaun heard the rumors, too? Had that partly played into his decision to lie about their relationship to Ellis?) “How does spending time with someone equate to being in a relationship? Can’t people just be friends?”
“Yes, of course.” Her smile dims slightly. “But you two…aren’t just friends.”
Oh. Right. He has to be careful here because of her almost preternatural ability to detect when he’s lying. But if he can carefully word most of his statements as truth…she’ll be none the wiser.
“We haven’t been together as long as you—and some others—seem to think.” (Truth, because they’re not ‘together’ at all.) “We’ve grown a lot closer the past several months.” (Truth, no addendum needed.) “I care about him. A lot.” (Another truth, maybe the truest thing he’s said during his entire conversation with Jessica so far.)
From the way Jess is smiling brilliantly again, she’s clearly convinced—though it’s not like it’s hard to convince her when most things are true aside from the minor detail that his relationship with Shaun isn’t romantic. It’s not lost on Neil that with the added description of a single word, he’s suddenly able to achieve everything he’s always wished he could when it comes to Shaun: Neil wants the best for him, wants to make his life easier in any possible way he can, and he wants others to know that hurting Shaun is something he’ll never tolerate—to cross Shaun is equivalent to crossing Neil, and he’ll go to great lengths to prove that fact, if need be.
However, Neil’s also incredibly practical. He’s aware that if he tried to convey all that while he and Shaun were simply ‘friends’, many would think he was too involved in Shaun’s life. Or too overprotective. Or too concerned in matters that weren’t really his business. No one would understand it—but change their relationship to ‘romantic’ and suddenly people understand.
It also strikes Neil that he doesn’t feel remotely guilty about misleading their friends. Because it doesn’t feel like they’re lying, it feels like they’re…reframing their relationship in a way that others will respect. (In fact, the only part of this that Neil regrets is that he hadn’t thought of doing it a while ago.)
“I heard some other things happened in that breakroom, too,” Jess says, interrupting his thoughts. Her tone is overly casual in a way that tells Neil she’s desperate for information (and most likely lamenting that she wasn’t there to witness things for herself).
“I’m sure you did,” he tells her mildly, refusing to take the bait.
She instantly drops any pretense of skirting around the issue, choosing instead to jump right in: “You threatened to get Jacob Ellis fired?”
These people…seriously. “Is that the story that’s going around?” Neil can’t be bothered to feign any semblance of sounding like he cares about such a false version of events. (Because he doesn’t—in fact, he really likes that interpretation of how things unfolded.) “That’s not what happened, but I’m fine with everyone thinking I have that kind of power.”
“You do have that kind of power.”
“News to me,” he says, innocently. “I wish someone had told me that years ago. I’d have had a lot of fun with it.”
“You can’t directly fire someone, no, but we all know you have enough friends in high places that if you actually wanted someone gone, you could easily set things in motion to make it happen.”
He tilts his chair back and meets her eyes for a long moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” (It doesn’t matter what he says, really, when they both know she’s right.)
She scoffs at his lack of an answer. “I’m guessing that Ellis didn’t technically do anything to Shaun that’s officially considered harassment?”
Neil takes a moment to admire how sharp she is, because there’s only one possible way she could know that. Which is… “He’d be gone if he had,” Neil confirms, conveniently ignoring that his statement proves her previous claim true—if he wants someone fired, they’ll be fired. “I’m still going to talk to him, though.”
She arches a brow. “I heard you made him cry.”
Neil starts laughing at that. “This story keeps getting better and better. Sometimes I hate the gossip mill around here, but at other times…I’m truly grateful for it.”
“You’re unbelievable.” She’s trying to hold back her smile. “You love that Ellis is terrified of you.”
“I do,” he confirms, “very much.” There’s no point in denying it, not least of all because she’d see right through him. “And for the record, I didn’t make him cry. I didn’t threaten him. I strongly implied that Shaun Murphy is off-limits and if Ellis didn’t like that, he could deal with me.”
“Oh sure,” she hums, “because that’s not a threat.”
“It’s not.” He shrugs as his expression darkens. “It’s the truth and Ellis should have known it already.”
“Is that why you chose to announce your relationship today? Because of him?”
“It was part of it,” Neil answers (because that statement is true enough to evade her superior lie detection skills). “If it keeps people in line…”
“Keeps them in line or keeps them away from Shaun?” Jessica asks shrewdly.
“Same thing.”
“It really isn’t.”
“Let’s agree to disagree,” he throws out, solely as a last resort, because keeping people away from Shaun is the entire point. (And of course she’d hit upon that quickly, even if she had no clue how true it was—that it had been the very catalyst for Neil’s suggestion that they pretend to be in a relationship.)
“Let’s agree that you’re in love,” she counters, stunning him into actual silence for a few moments.
“No, I can’t agree,” he says slowly. In love? That’s what she thinks? “We definitely haven’t reached that…level of anything.”
“Uh huh. Sure.” She’s doing that thing where she’s rolling her eyes at him without actually rolling her eyes at him. “You’re a terrible liar, Neil. Remember, I can tell.”
Yes, he does remember. Which is why this conversation is getting so strange—he feels like it’s spinning out of control on him. “We are not in love.”
“You are so in love,” she goads.
“We’re not,” he says sharply. It suddenly seems imperative that she believes him and he has no idea why—after all, it’d make things easier if she thought they were in love. It’d be easier if everyone believed they were in love. (So why is he fighting her on this?)
Jessica’s eyes take on a newly sympathetic light (which, if possible, is even worse than her earlier teasing). “I’m sorry, Neil. I was only kidding; I understand how difficult it is to work through things when a relationship…changes.”
Neil restlessly taps a pen on his desk, a manifestation of his increasing agitation. She didn’t say she believed him and he’s pretty sure she still doesn’t. He’s considering arguing further when she leans forward in her chair and studies him.
“I’m glad you found each other,” she says, words sincere and nothing else. “You make each other…happier.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “We do.” (Truth.)
Before Neil can start contemplating other ways to somehow prove they’re not in love, Shaun appears in his office doorway, knocking lightly on the doorframe to announce his presence (because Jess had never closed the door—though what did it matter, by now, if they were overheard? People around here were clearly going to believe what they wanted, regardless of the truth).
“I should get going,” Jess announces, with a significant look towards Neil as she stands. On her way out, she stops next to Shaun and lightly pats his arm. “I’m happy for you, Shaun.”
“Thank you,” he says politely, before frowning in confusion. “Why?”
“I heard about your new relationship. I think it’s wonderful.”
“Right. Yes.” Shaun nods vigorously enough that Neil feels slightly dizzy. “Our relationship. That we are very much…both involved in. Neil and…myself. Together.”
Good God, Murphy, stop talking. Neil tilts his chair back to stare helplessly at the ceiling. He’s going to have to sign Shaun up for acting lessons, or something. (Anything, really, to prevent painful displays like this in the future.)
“Are you just…quoting the definition of a ‘relationship’ to me?” Jessica’s asking Shaun, clearly bemused.
For some reason, Shaun ignores her and keeps talking. “Neil and I are… We are…in love?”
Neil lets his chair drop back to the floor with a thud and whips the pen he’s still holding in Shaun’s general direction.
“Hey!” Shaun yelps, even though Jessica is the one who manages to catch it before it hits her in the head (so his aim had been a little off, but so what? They both deserve it, as far as Neil’s concerned).
Traitor that she is, Jess launches the pen back in Neil’s direction, and he manages to duck just in time.
“That was childish,” Shaun scolds, as Jessica folds her arms and nods along in agreement, conveniently overlooking that her own act of retaliation had been exactly the same as Neil’s.
Jessica has also somehow managed to miss Shaun’s previous floundering (and the fact that Shaun’s ‘declaration’ was actually a question).
“I knew you two were in love,” she’s saying smugly, all but daring Neil to counter her again.
“Yes!” Shaun exclaims, with no idea that he’s doing the exact opposite of helping Neil right now. “We are very much in love. That is what I said.”
Neil resists the strong urge to bang his head on his desk as Jessica openly gloats in her victory—and Neil knows it’s not even what Shaun’s saying that makes her happy, it’s knowing she was right along with the added bonus that it had come at the price of Neil being wrong.
“Knew it,” she mutters to herself, staring Neil down. Like she wants him to confess. (But he can’t—she’ll know he’s lying. Right? He’s honestly starting to become confused.)
“Goodbye, Jess,” he says pointedly, glaring from her to the door. “I need a word alone with my…” He grits his teeth. “Partner.”
Her smirk at him as she leaves is particularly grating. Once she’s gone, Shaun finally comes the rest of the way into the office, closing the door behind him.
“That went well,” Shaun says cheerfully, completely oblivious to Neil’s frustration. “She believed me.”
“She did.” Neil debates throwing his pen at him again. (If he could find it somewhere in the corner where it rolled after it landed.) “Despite how terrible you were at trying to convince her.”
Shaun has retrieved the pen and gently sets it on Neil’s desk. “I was not believable?”
“Not in the slightest. Yet Jessica seemed to buy it without question.” Frankly, it’s bizarre. Neil’s beginning to think her skills at lie detection are faltering. Or have somehow vanished. Completely.
“I tried,” Shaun says, taking the seat Jessica had recently vacated. “I don’t know what else I should do.” (Neil doesn’t like that the smile has fallen off his face because it’s not Shaun’s fault. Not at all.)
“Murphy.” He comes around to the front of his desk so he can lean back against it. “We don’t have to do anything. Remember what I said earlier? In the breakroom? Let people talk on their own. If someone asks you, simply confirm it, that’s all. People who know me will know better than to start prying, or asking questions that are too personal.” He pauses, thinking of his and Lim’s other residents and their patent inability to leave him alone. "Most people will know better,” he amends.
“Okay,” Shaun agrees; he seems a little skeptical, but more than willing to go along with Neil’s suggestion. (Which isn’t surprising—outside of Neil and their selective group of friends, he’s not often comfortable answering personal questions.)
“After my conversation with Jess, I don’t think we’ll have to ‘convince’ people of anything,” Neil says. “She told me people have been speculating about our relationship for months, and some of them even thought we were together, already.” He searches Shaun’s face for any trace of surprise, but finds none. “You knew, didn’t you?”
“About the rumors?” Shaun folds his hands, glancing away. “Yes. Claire told me recently because she wanted to know if they were true. I assumed you had heard them, as well.”
Neil shakes his head at the fact that even Shaun had known while he’d been oblivious. (What has he been doing these past few months? How had he become so distracted that he’d fallen completely out of the loop?) “I was completely clueless.”
“I would have told you, had I known you were unaware.”
“Is that what gave you the idea today? When you told Ellis we were in a relationship?”
“That was part of it,” Shaun admits. “It occurred to me when he tried to get me alone. I knew what he wanted. What he would say. And then I looked over at you…” Shaun lifts a shoulder like there’s no need to continue explaining.
“That was only part of it?” Neil asks. “What was the other part?”
“It seemed easier.”
Neil waits for elaboration that isn’t forthcoming. “Easier?”
“Than deterring him on my own. Which had not been successful to that point. You make things easier. You make a lot of things easier.” Shaun’s matter-of-fact answer kind of astonishes Neil; he’d had no idea Shaun felt that way. Before he can even begin to think of a response to that, Shaun keeps talking. “I thought he knew about the rumors, that he would believe me when I said we were together. However, his surprise indicated that he had no idea. I suppose he has not been here long enough.” He hesitates for a moment, not quite looking at Neil when he asks, “Are you angry?”
The question comes out of left field, catching Neil off-guard. “Why would I be angry?”
“Because I knew what people said.” Shaun’s now staring at his clasped hands. “And I…used that information for my own benefit. It did not occur to me that you might not like my actions until it was too late to take them back.”
“I wasn’t angry before.” Neil takes the seat next to Shaun’s so they can be at eye level. “I’m not angry now.”
“Alright,” Shaun says, relieved. “I wondered if you might change your mind. About…”
“This? Us?” Neil’s surprised he would be worried at all, especially considering that Shaun had originally offered to retract his statement and admit to everyone that he was lying about their romantic relationship. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. And I’m not going to. Remember, I’m the one who told you to let everyone keep thinking that we were together.” He deliberately waits for Shaun to glance at him, resisting the sudden urge to reach out and touch him. “You’re stuck with me, Murphy. For the indefinite future.”
“Okay,” Shaun says agreeably, then corrects, “We are stuck with each other.”
Neil likes Shaun’s way of phrasing it a lot more than his own.
He has no idea how long he sits there, staring at Shaun without speaking, until his resident asks, “Are you ready to go?”
“Five minutes,” Neil says, shaking himself back to reality. They’d agreed to grab dinner after work, and it has nothing to do with the charade they’re putting on—they’d planned this days ago. It’s not uncommon for them to spend time together, whether it’s going to dinner, or the movies, or just spending a quiet evening at one of their apartments while watching a game or searching for something new on Netflix. It’s no secret, either; they’ve never tried to hide their friendship. And in light of what Jessica had told him, Neil’s only now realizing that to some outsiders, it must have seemed like they’d been dating for some time. Quite some time. Not that he cares what others think of him, or his relationship with Shaun, but it does strike Neil as odd that he’d never been even peripherally aware of it. It had simply never occurred to him how things might look to others.
“Why did you throw your pen at us?” Shaun’s watching Neil pack up his things.
Neil sends him a significant look. “You deserved it. You and Jess.”
“I disagree.”
“Do you?” Neil can’t help his smile. “Alright, then I apologize.”
“You are not being sincere.”
Neil only smiles wider, because yeah, he’d been pretty sarcastic with that ‘apology.’ “I was trying to get you to stop talking. Clearly, I was unsuccessful. I don’t think I could ever get you to stop talking.”
Shaun frowns at him. “You like it when I talk.”
“I do,” Neil agrees (because he does). And he’s told Shaun that many times. He still brushes a hand over Shaun’s arm in reassurance when he passes by him to put away a reference book. “But I don’t like when you tell Jessica that we’re in love not even a minute after I vehemently deny to her that we are.”
“Why did you deny it?” Shaun asks. “Isn’t the point that people believe it?”
Neil barely stops himself from saying that he doesn’t know why. Because he does know why he denied it (so why does it feel like he doesn’t?). “I couldn’t lie to her when she brought it up. She excels at knowing when I lie and it would have given everything away if I started talking about feelings I don’t have.” It rings in his mind again—the strangeness of her refusal to believe him when he denied that he and Shaun were in love.
“She believed me when I lied,” Shaun points out.
“She did. Even though you were quite terrible at it.” He sidesteps when Shaun reaches over to no doubt pinch his arm or something. “Maybe she can’t tell with you. Or maybe she’s not as good at reading people as she used to be.”
Shaun’s watching him carefully. “Do you want me to deny it if the topic comes up again? With anyone?”
“No,” he grabs his keys, “I’ve resigned myself to the fact that a lot of people believe it, anyways.” (And Neil had been the only one left in the dark.)
They leave Neil’s office, heading for the elevators, but Neil stops short when he sees the group gathered around the main desk: Claire, Morgan, and Park. All of them look decidedly not busy and just happen to be standing where Neil and Shaun will have to pass them to leave.
It’s not a coincidence. Nothing is ever a coincidence with these people.
He just went through a round of ‘Let’s quiz Neil Melendez on his relationship!’ with Jessica, so he’s not exactly in the mood to repeat it. The only thing he wants is to have a nice, quiet dinner with Shaun. (Well, as quiet as Shaun ever gets.) And then he’ll relax and process exactly what happened to his day, but all of that is going to be significantly delayed if he has to stop for an interrogation with a myriad of residents.
“Maybe we can take the back elevators,” Neil suggests, even as Shaun’s walking away. “Murphy!”
“Why would we do that?” Shaun calls back. “The main elevators are closer.”
One of these days, Shaun will do exactly what Neil wants him to do. (Yeah…probably not.)
He reluctantly follows Shaun, for no other reason than because he can’t let the younger man face them alone. He’d never be that cruel, especially not where Shaun’s concerned.
They come to a stop near the desk: Morgan is seated behind it; Claire’s in front of it, shifting a chart restlessly from hand to hand; and Park is leaning against the end of it, expression eerily blank.
“Residents,” Neil greets, tone letting them know that he’s acutely aware of why they’re hanging around the main lobby of the surgical wing.
“Dr. Melendez,” Morgan returns, with a politeness that’s most likely feigned. She nods at Shaun, as well. “Murphy.”
Neil’s not surprised at her presence the way he used to be—she’s around him and his team enough that she might as well still be on it. (Not that it makes that much difference, most of the time, based on how often Neil and Lim mix up their residents.)
After Jared had left their hospital the previous spring, Neil had still technically had one too many residents, but Audrey conveniently had space to take one person on. Neil had been prepared to tell Morgan and Park to decide between themselves who was staying with him, because there was no way in hell he was letting Shaun or Claire go, but before he could, Morgan had told him she wanted to transfer. His former resident is sharp: she knew that his patience with her was wearing dangerously thin and it was going to ruin her chances of being hired permanently. No, he’s not in charge of who works at their hospital, but as Jessica had pointed out, they all know that one word from him means Morgan would never be seriously considered. So when she saw a chance to start over with someone new, she seized it. In the months since, her attitude has markedly improved, probably due to some combination of fear that she was alienating her potential future co-workers coupled with Audrey’s express inability to deal with nonsense.
All that said, however, she’s still Morgan and Neil can usually only take her in small doses.
“How are you two?” Claire asks, interrupting Neil’s contemplative thoughts.
“Drop the act,” he orders, looking at Morgan and Park in warning, as well. “We’re not doing this.”
“Not doing what?” Morgan asks, trying for an innocence that Neil will never believe from her (on the rare chance that she ever was innocent).
“This.” Neil motions at the assembled group. “This is what we’re not doing.”
“We’re just hanging out at the front desk,” Morgan informs him.
“Exactly,” Claire supplies. “Us residents always meet at—” she checks the time, “—7:12 in the evening.”
“No, we don’t,” Shaun says, as his co-workers send him mildly censuring (and fond) looks in exasperation.
“It’s a…new policy?” Claire tries to claim.
“We have no idea what you’re insinuating,” Morgan tells Neil, glossing right over Claire’s futile attempts at trying to come up with a plausible excuse for why they’re all standing around in the hallway at this time of evening. “We’re working. In fact, I was just checking up on a few patients.” She gestures to the computer in front of her.
Neil leans around the desk to see the screen—the black screen. “Kind of hard to do when it’s off,” he points out.
“You know these power-saving measures.” She slaps a hand down on the keyboard and the computer comes back to life. “The times keep getting shorter and shorter!”
“I’ve noticed that,” Claire agrees, “and I was just filling out this chart…” She glances down, seeming to realize she has nothing to write with, and that’s when Morgan flips her a pen. “Thank you, Dr. Reznick.”
“While I do appreciate this terribly-acted play that you’re putting on for my benefit,” Neil tells them, “none of you are particularly subtle.”
“Funny,” Morgan says, archly, “I was going to say the same thing about you and Murphy.”
Neil stares at her until she glances away, but he can’t refute her comment, because she’s right. (And they’re trying to make people think they’re together, aren’t they?)
Alex continues studying him and Shaun like they’re the prime suspects in some mysterious crime and he’s deciding how best to prove their guilt. “For what it’s worth,” he remarks, “I wasn’t trying to be subtle about observing you.”
(Neil appreciates the honesty, at least.)
“Where are you off to this evening?” Morgan inquires. “Heading out…together?”
“We are going to dinner,” Shaun answers.
Neil tries to seize the unexpected opportunity. “Speaking of which, we should get going.” He takes a single step towards the elevators. “Don’t want to be late.”
“We have not made reservations anywhere,” Shaun counters. “Therefore, it would be impossible to arrive late.”
Claire shakes her head a little, Alex (predictably) shows no reaction, and Morgan finds the entire conversation (and probably Neil’s frustration) hilarious—her face betrays not even a hint of a smile, but Neil can see it in her eyes.
“Shaun,” Morgan says, “I believe what Dr. Melendez is trying to tell us is that he wants to get the hell out of here.”
Neil inwardly sighs because she’s right. She’s almost always right, which is maddening, actually. That’s one of his main issues with her a lot of the time. She has a gift for reading people—and zero reservations about repeating her observations out loud, for all to hear. (And it’s nearly impossible to argue against her—she might be easier to work with now, might be making more of an effort to play nice with others, but he’s still often grateful she’s not on his team anymore.)
“Where are you thinking of going to dinner?” Alex’s question seems innocuous enough, but Neil has the uncanny feeling that no matter what answer he gives, it will probably unintentionally reveal seventeen layers of meaning that Neil himself isn’t even aware of.
“I want to try someplace new,” Shaun says, like this is a normal conversation and their words aren’t being thoroughly dissected by the three vultures—residents in front of them.
“You two looking for any recommendations?” Morgan asks. “Something intimate? Or…romantic?”
“Recommendations would be welcome,” Shaun says politely, catching Morgan off-guard, if the way she blinks at him is any indication.
“I…have a whole list,” she says slowly. “I’m something of a food connoisseur. I rate the local restaurants each time I go out to eat and I’m always trying new places. I’ll forward you the list I’ve made.”
“I would appreciate that,” Shaun tells her warmly.
Neil studies her critically as she takes out her phone; he’d had no idea Morgan rated the restaurants she visited, and Claire seems surprised as well, but Park doesn’t react (so who’s to say if he knew). Neil’s waiting for the catch, but there doesn’t seem to be one. Morgan’s being genuine. Sincere. He files the moment away in his mind to evaluate later.
Claire’s looking between him and Shaun with growing anticipation, and it’s obvious she wants to say something, but isn’t sure if it’d be welcome.
He impatiently waves a hand at her. Apparently, they are doing this, despite his protests. “Out with it.”
“We’re so happy for you two,” she says, as her face breaks into a wide smile. Alex nods slightly, which must indicate agreement, and Morgan doesn’t even look up from her phone. “I want you to know, I called it first! I knew you were together months ago. No one believed me back then. But I could tell. I’m incredibly observant, you know.”
“Are you?” Neil asks, with no shortage of amusement. From the corner of his eye, he catches Shaun shaking his head.
“We were not—”
“Murphy,” Neil loudly interrupts, nudging him in the arm. “It’s fine. They…know.” He pretends not to notice Alex’s gaze, minutely sharper than it was a few moments before.
“Yes, we know.” Claire sighs wistfully, like they’re all characters in the middle of a romantic comedy or something. “And we’re glad you’re finally comfortable enough to admit it to everyone.”
Neil and Shaun glance at each other and then simultaneously nod in agreement. Silence falls and Neil begins to wonder why the other three haven’t jumped all over them with questions. But when he thinks about it more critically… Claire is far too polite to ask anything they might not want to answer; she’ll prefer to hint around and ask veiled questions the next few weeks until she learns everything she wants to know. Park thinks that everyone lies—and isn’t that true, in this case, more than he’ll realize. He probably has other, more accurate ways of gaining whatever information he seeks (and that’s assuming there are things he doesn’t know already). And Morgan, well, she might be overly blunt when it comes to most things like this, never shying away from airing others’ personal issues, but she has a steadfast sense of self-preservation—she has to know that a misstep here will cost her dearly. (And doubly so if Neil interprets anything she says as an intentional slight against Shaun.) So she’s censoring herself, for once, and it’s as refreshing as it is…disconcerting.
All of it means that the five of them are at a stalemate, and Neil is just about to use it as an opportunity to leave when Marcus strolls up to the assembled group. Because of course this is when Marcus shows up.
“Melendez!” he all but yells, as he walks over to them, adding slightly more subdued, “and Murphy. Just the two employees I wanted to see.”
“It’s getting late,” Neil begins, as he glances behind their boss to the elevators. “Do we need to do this now?”
“Thinking of making a run for it?” Marcus asks cheerfully, as Neil snaps his eyes back over to him.
Yes. Yes he was. “What? No, that’s ridiculous…”
“Uh huh. Look, we can do this the official way,” Marcus informs them, “with me dragging you two aside for a private meeting and then talking to all of our residents individually. Or we can do it quickly, right here, out in the open, with all of us together. That would, of course, save me significant time—but I’m open to a vote.”
Neil glances at the other four people around them; they are riveted, for lack of a better term. Claire’s eyes are like saucers as she glances among them—of everyone there, she’s the most likely to come to his and Shaun’s defense, if needed. Morgan’s expression is as serene as ever, but she’s studying Marcus, no doubt taking her cues from him (and if there’s any way for her to benefit from this, she’ll undoubtedly manage to do so). Even Alex has stilled—Neil’s not sure how he can tell, based on the way the man usually carries himself, but something about it is obvious. And Shaun merely shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to him where they discuss this (and it probably doesn’t).
“I vote we talk right here and now, out in the open,” Morgan says quickly. She’s overly eager, in a way that’s not normal for her—she excels at keeping herself in check. Neil honestly can’t tell if she’s excited at the potential drama that might unfold, or at the possibility of garnering points with Andrews—maybe both.
“All agreed?” Marcus asks, and when everyone more or less nods, he pauses for a significant few seconds (God, the man has a flair for the dramatic) and then says, “Alright.” He pauses again and Neil resists the urge to shake him. “It has come to my attention, officially, in any case, that you two—” he points at Neil, then Shaun, “—are in a relationship.”
“Yes,” Neil confirms, because there’s nothing else he can say. (Except the truth and he’s not going to do that, not when he’d already made up his mind about going through with this.)
“It’s also come to my attention that…let me make sure I get this right.” Marcus levels him with a look. “Neil Melendez makes the rules around here and can do what he wants.”
Neil barely, barely hides a wince. “I don’t recall saying that.” When Marcus just stares at him, he adds, “…In so many words?” A quick glance at the residents surrounding him reveals worried concern (Claire), true impassivity (Park), and an unreadable expression from Morgan who must be trying to figure out which way this is going to go before she jumps in.
“I was there,” Shaun speaks up. “Neil is telling the truth. He did not say that.”
“I believe you,” Marcus says, surprising everyone, “but only that he didn’t say it in those exact words.”
Shaun glances at Neil and he minutely shakes his head in indication for Shaun not to dig himself in any deeper when they still don’t know what will happen (though it’s admittedly not looking great).
“Pop quiz time, Murphy.” Marcus turns to Shaun. “What would you do if Neil wrote a review you felt was biased in your favor?”
“He would not do that.”
Claire laughs, Morgan rolls her eyes, and Neil takes a moment to enjoy Marcus’s growing exasperation. (It’s always fun to see others suffering the way Neil does, day in and day out.)
“But if he did?” Marcus persists.
“He would not—”
“Murphy, let’s skip your perpetual defense of Neil—in this imaginary world, he wrote a review that showed clear bias towards you. What would you do?”
“I would inform him of his error. And give him the opportunity to correct it.”
“What if he refused? Or what if he corrected it and you still felt it was inaccurate?”
“I would report him.”
Marcus grins widely. “That’s cold, Murphy! And exactly the kind of attitude I want to see.”
“Of course you’d love that,” Neil mutters.
Shaun leans closer to him, saying in a voice not nearly low enough, “It would never come to that. Because you are fair and impartial.”
“Ah, if only all of us had faith in each other to match the faith you have in Neil,” Marcus tells Shaun, and he’s not even joking—he’s dead serious.
Morgan’s eyes have taken on a scrutinizing—a particularly calculating—glint that Neil doesn’t think he likes.
“Sir,” she addresses Andrews, “their relationship is against a number of rules according to the hospital’s policies and guidelines on conduct between those in a direct position of power over—”
“What do you care?” Claire interrupts sharply. “You’re not on our team anymore. Dr. Melendez doesn’t oversee you so I don’t even know why you’re part of this conversation.”
Morgan glances at the desk in front of her, but before she does, Neil thinks he sees a flash of genuine hurt cross her face. Whether he imagined it or not, her face is politely icy when she looks up again. “If you’d let me finish,” her tone is particularly withering, and aimed solely at Claire, “I was going to say…none of that has ever mattered here before.”
Marcus folds his arms and then lazily waves a hand in indication that he’s listening and she should go on. Neil isn’t sure of her angle here, but there definitely is one. There has to be.
“If you decide to make an example of them, then you’d have to begin strictly enforcing those rules for our entire department,” she continues. “And policing the personal lives of hospital staff seems like an extraordinary waste of your valuable time, sir.”
“I always did hate having my time wasted,” Marcus murmurs, in agreement.
“Which is not to mention the most important point: they’ve been together for a while. Everyone knows it.” (Neil suppresses the automatic jolt of surprise at hearing someone else say that so openly—he really had been living in an alternate reality from them.) “And Dr. Melendez has remained impartial towards all of us during that time,” Morgan’s continuing. “Even those of us who…” she glances briefly at Claire, “aren’t on his team anymore.”
Andrews is nodding along to all her points. “That is a fair assessment, Reznick. I have to agree.”
She veritably beams at him. “Why thank you, Dr. Andrews.”
Claire’s looking on in what Neil can only describe as true shock, while Alex studies Morgan in the same way that Neil himself had been earlier.
“Morgan’s right,” Neil says, somewhat surprised at how right she is. No, he’s not dating Shaun, but they have a much closer relationship than Neil has with any other resident—and that’s never changed his behavior towards them, nor would it in the future.
“Could you repeat that I'm right?” Morgan’s smirking at him. “I don’t know if you’ve ever spoken truer words, sir.”
Neil manages to suppress his smile, though it’s a near thing. “My relationship with Shaun doesn’t change how I feel about any of you. Nor does it change how I evaluate anyone—including Shaun—on a professional level. I’ve always strived to remain objective and that’s what I will continue to be. If anyone ever feels like I’m not, I expect them to bring it to my attention.”
“We would,” Alex assures him. “And I, for one, have never considered you anything other than fair.”
“Can anyone tell me,” Marcus addresses the entire group, “am I in the habit of making life harder for myself?”
He’s met with a chorus of no’s, along with a prim, “Nor should you,” from Morgan. (Neil refrains from answering—he doesn’t believe this is a trick question, but he’d learned long ago to never willingly set himself up—especially when it comes to Marcus.)
“Exactly. And you two,” he’s motioning between Neil and Shaun, “actually make my life much easier.”
“How?” Shaun asks.
Marcus looks at Neil. “You almost never bother me anymore. You used to argue with me about everything. Complaints left and right—”
“I rarely, if ever, complained,” Neil…complains. Damn it. (Marcus got him again.)
“What was your favorite argument with me last year?” Marcus is pretending to think. “Oh right, how many residents you had—”
“You assigned me like seventeen of them!”
“Which led to, what’d you call it…a non-optimal learning environment.”
“Well…” Neil crosses his arms and tells himself he’s not sulking. He’s simply…unhappy about the previous year. “It wasn’t optimal. You remember the unnecessary competition and infighting it caused, which meant I spent too much time on those issues instead of focusing on patient care. There’s a reason teams are supposed to be smaller.”
“You might have a point,” Marcus grudgingly concedes, “but let’s not pretend like that was the only issue we fought about.”
“It’s not my fault you always take the non-rational side of an argument.”
“This. Right here. This is what I don’t miss.” Marcus turns to Shaun. “Because he brings his problems to you first and you two figure them out together without ever involving me. Which is just the way I like it.”
Neil’s about to argue, out of sheer habit, when he realizes he can’t. He does that? He goes to Shaun first? The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes Marcus is right (…and how come Neil had never realized that?).
“I excel at solving problems,” Shaun is saying, which is actually quite the understatement. The number of times he’s helped Neil work through something…whether with the board or a patient or a colleague… Or any other variety of issues…
“As for you, Murphy…” Marcus glances between Neil and Shaun, with a careful kind of consideration that Neil appreciates. He’s obviously trying to determine how best to diplomatically phrase this so as to not offend either of them, and it’s a vast change from his behavior a year prior.
“I already know,” Shaun tells them. “Less people complain about me.”
“Got it in one, Murphy,” Marcus confirms. “Complaints about you have dropped almost to the point of non-existence. You tell people the truth. With a kind of bluntness they rarely appreciate—that they often don’t want to hear. But with Neil as an example—God help us all—you’ve learned to hold your tongue. Or, at the very least, word things gently enough that they don’t take the truth as a criticism. Or insult.”
“Diplomacy,” Shaun says, nodding. “Neil loves diplomacy.”
“News to me,” Marcus says wryly.
“Well, I don’t favor it when it comes to you,” Neil informs him, acerbically.
“It was Dr. Lim who first gave me the idea,” Shaun reveals, which Neil hadn’t known. “She told me to run my reaction to every new situation by Jared before I spoke to families. Then Jared left. So I began asking Neil. The parameters were easy to learn and within a few months, I was able to form a template of the proper and expected reactions to virtually every scenario we encounter.”
“The point,” Marcus informs them, “is that your relationship has directly led to a decrease in issues that I have to deal with. So the last thing I want to do is separate you at work.”
Neil’s relieved at that, because he’d been prepared to fight him on it (and if Marcus had wanted to separate them, Neil's not sure he would have been able to convince him otherwise). He also finds it amusing that what Marcus is saying about them is true—it’s just that no one has any idea that it’s true without them being together.
“So we’re all on the same page,” Marcus is saying, in summation. He takes a few seconds to look at each one of them in turn. “Barring any valid concerns, this is the last I expect to hear on the topic.”
That seems to be the signal for them to disperse, as Marcus leaves, followed shortly by Claire and Alex. It leaves only Neil, Shaun, and Morgan at the desk.
“Why did you defend us?” Shaun suddenly asks her.
“Maybe I consider you two friends,” she says sweetly.
Neil manages to hold back his laughter. “Try again.”
Her mask slips, but it’s not meanness Neil spies underneath; it’s practicality. “Fine, you want to know? For all Dr. Andrews’ talk about impartiality, we all know that Shaun’s virtually guaranteed a permanent job here.” She turns to Shaun, saying bluntly, “You’re Glassman’s surrogate son and Andrews is nearly in love with you due to your impact on donors. And I won’t even get into how necessary you and Melendez seem to be to each other. Besides, what would Andrews’ suggestion have been if I decided to make it an issue?”
It doesn’t take Neil long to figure that out. “He would have ordered you and Shaun to switch teams.”
“Exactly. And even though Lim would love having Shaun on her team—which of the rest of us would hate that idea the most? As a hint—it’s not me.”
“Neil and I would hate it equally,” Shaun murmurs.
“No doubt,” she agrees. “So all of that grief, with no real benefit to me, topped off with making enemies of you both…”
It’s abundantly clear now—to her mind, there hadn’t been another option. Neil’s mostly just glad their interests happened to align this time around.
“Go ahead,” she tells them, as she motions toward the elevators. “Enjoy your romantic dinner. Revel in your victory that you won’t be split up. I sent you my list of restaurants.”
Shaun thanks her, heading for the elevators as he takes out his phone to peruse her list.
Neil hesitates for an extra moment at the desk. “You are aware that what you told Andrews was the truth, right?”
She shrugs at him in confusion.
“My relationship with Shaun. It doesn’t change how I feel about any of my residents.” He pauses. “Or about you. When it comes down to it, we’re all still a team, even if you and I technically aren’t on the same one anymore.”
“I know that,” she says, rubbing a hand over her eyes in a tell of how tired she is. “I knew it a long time ago. You have integrity, Dr. Melendez.”
“I’m a firm believer of teaching by example,” he says, hoping she’ll take that to heart (though…maybe she already has). “Go home, Reznick.”
“Soon,” she promises, as he nods and heads off to join Shaun, who’s been waiting for him to hit the elevator button.
Shaun immediately launches into a description of the various restaurants on Morgan’s list (she actually does include notations on how romantic each one is because she’s just that thorough) and all Neil can think about is how his life became flipped upside down over the course of only a few hours.
(And he wonders why today doesn’t feel any different from the day before.)
Chapter 3
Notes:
Yes, I am still actively working on this and my other ongoing story! I think, by now, you can safely double (or triple?) anything I ever say about story or chapter lengths - because this chapter was supposed to be their holiday gala and then I thought there should probably be some set-up...and this is what happened - they didn't even make it there yet!
As always, thank you for all your kind comments and feedback - it really keeps me going!
Chapter Text
It’s not that Neil expects his entire life to drastically change after he and Shaun ‘reveal’ they’re in a relationship, but he definitely expects a different reaction than what they (mostly) get.
The news about them lights up the hospital for about a week, but it’s rarely met with shock (or even surprise). Rather, the typical response is some variation of what they’d heard from Jessica and the rest of their team—most people claim they’d ‘known’ he and Shaun were together, or at least suspected.
It’s an increasing feat for Neil to keep a straight face when he hears people talk about how ‘obvious’ it was that he and Shaun were dating. He even gets a few mild lectures asking why they’d tried (‘unsuccessfully’) to keep it a secret for so long. And even though it’s all good-natured ribbing, at heart, Neil can’t help feeling the exact same defensiveness that had set in when Jessica came to his office that first day to insist she’d known all along.
There are a handful of times that Neil wants to snap at people, inform them exactly how wrong they are, but it’s easy to refrain for one reason, and one reason only: Shaun. He’s not about to tell anyone that this entire thing was fake—and not because he cares about himself or his reputation, but because Shaun would most likely end up hurt by it. No one should ever start distrusting Shaun, or think any less of him, because of a plan that has no maliciousness attached to it. Their agreement doesn’t benefit Shaun financially or professionally, all it does is incentivize people to leave him alone, and he should never have to suffer for that.
What it comes down to is that Neil feels like he’s the one who’s surprised the most by this whole thing—because he’s surprised at other people’s reactions. He’d been anticipating a fight of some kind, whether from Marcus, or the administration, or their co-workers… Neil’s just used to having to fight for things. So to receive not even a cursory protest, from anyone? It’s disconcerting, to say the least.
No one treats them differently, but then again, why would they if most of their colleagues thought they were together already? Neil and Shaun don’t act any differently, either. They don’t try and ‘prove’ their relationship, though they still spend the same (excessive) amount of time together as they ever did. And they’d also agreed, early on, that they wouldn’t attempt any displays of affection. (Just the thought makes Neil cringe when he imagines how Shaun would act out a scene like that, especially after his disastrous attempt at merely telling Jessica about their ‘relationship’.)
That said, there are two things that have changed in the last few months. The first is that Shaun is much more comfortable around him—it had started when they became closer friends, but Shaun definitely touches him more now. Always in casual, minor ways, but it’s still significant to Neil; he’s happy Shaun trusts him enough to be more open with him. Neil’s cautious about responding in kind, never wanting to accidentally step over any boundaries, but Shaun never protests anything he does, either verbally or by pulling away from him. In fact, the more affectionate Neil becomes, the more Shaun is, too—it’s like some kind of circular feedback loop. (Neil really likes it, actually.)
The second thing he learns is that no one bothers Shaun. No one. Until Shaun happily reveals this, over lunch one day in late November, Neil genuinely had no clue that some people still did. And he must look pretty stricken when he hears it, if the way Shaun blinks at him is any indication.
“It was nothing like it used to be,” Shaun assures him. “I have many friends here. They are kind and always defend me, if necessary. But I am still used to…having my opinions challenged by people who don’t know me well. Or hearing offhand remarks that people don’t realize are…” He shrugs without finishing the sentence. “It almost never happens anymore. I had noticed a decline before we…announced our relationship. I now believe it was because many people thought we were already together.”
“You should have told me before,” Neil says, though there isn’t much he could have done. He’s not about to go around chastising anyone who makes a vaguely insulting or insensitive remark to Shaun—and Shaun can definitely handle himself. (But somehow, neither of those facts stops Neil from wanting to confront every person who’s ever hurt Shaun, intentionally or not.)
Shaun’s face has become more serious. “I did not tell you today in order to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” Neil mutters (but of course he’s upset and they both know it).
“I told you because I consider the change a good thing,” Shaun informs him. “Also, no one has asked me out in over two months.” He sounds downright gleeful at that last sentence.
Neil finds himself smiling when he hears that. “I’m very happy no one has risked my wrath by propositioning you.”
“Many people are afraid of you,” Shaun confirms, in his own roundabout way of agreement. “Have others changed how they treat you, as well?”
Neil hasn’t given it much thought, because he realizes with a jolt, nothing has been happening—and he tells Shaun as much. He’s simply, thankfully, been left alone. No questions about whether he was ready to date again. No more offers to set him up. And the best, perhaps, were no more saccharine and sympathetic inquiries along the lines of ‘how are you doing since Jessica?’.
As it turns out, he and Shaun have impeccable timing, because Jessica had gotten engaged a mere three weeks after Neil and Shaun had decided to let people think they were dating. He’s sure that—without Shaun as a cover—there would have been a barrage of well-meaning, but infuriating spiels for Neil to deal with. People would have asked how he was ‘holding up’ in light of her engagement. Jessica would be dancing around the issue, too, not sure how to talk to him about it. And everyone would be carefully trying to ascertain if he’d be attending the wedding—Jessica herself would probably be on edge about it. (It’s not even a question now, she’d already warmly told both him and Shaun that she expects them to be there.)
Neil knows the people in his life, knows what they would have thrown at him for months on end, in desperate attempts to be helpful and ‘make him feel better’. However, just as Neil has apparently become a shield between Shaun and the people who make him (often accidentally) uncomfortable, Shaun has equally become a barrier around Neil’s entire personal life. Their friends occasionally ask how things are going, in terms of their relationship, but other than that? Nothing. There are no questions or suggestions or insinuations about dating or anything else, because people already ‘know’ about him and Shaun. It’s nothing but a sheer relief, and if he feels that strongly about it, he can only imagine how Shaun feels.
(Pretty damn happy, if the way Shaun’s smiling at him is any indication.)
“The holiday gala’s coming up soon, less than a month away!” Morgan chirps, slapping down a brightly colored red and gold flyer between his and Shaun’s trays on the table. (It’s sparkly, too—dear God, Marcus must have put her in charge of the design.) “I know how much you boys love these things.”
Neil suppresses his groan of annoyance—it’s not just a holiday gala, it’s an annual fundraiser, and their most important one by far. This is the time of year Marcus gets (even more) insufferable about it, obsessing over the venue, the list of invited donors, and every other minor detail. Thanks to their boss’s constant complaints, Neil knows more about planning these events than he’s ever wanted to—it’s not uncommon for Marcus to toss out issues during surgeries and ask for input from the whole room on how to resolve them. (Sometimes he even makes them all vote.)
“We already knew about the gala,” Shaun points out, as he reads the flyer, anyways. Morgan must be holding a few hundred of them and Neil takes another one to check the time and venue—it’s at the Ritz-Carlton this year, in their grand ballroom. That tracks, because the venue had been one of the aforementioned things Marcus made them vote on. He always pulls out all the stops for this gala (read: spends excessive amounts of the committee’s yearly budget on it) and there will be hundreds of people there. (It’s 23 days away and Neil already wants to go home.)
“This is me officially putting you on notice,” Morgan tells them, as Neil looks up at her in confusion. “Neil Melendez and Shaun Murphy are required to attend. As in mandatory. As in not optional. As in be there or prepare to suffer my wrath. It’s all in the fine print.” She jabs one perfectly manicured fingernail at the paper in front of Shaun (and Neil rolls up his own flyer just so he can swat her with it).
“There is no fine print,” Shaun says absently and Morgan issues him a stern look that has zero effect because he doesn’t so much as glance her way.
“I’m being glib,” she says primly, “but it’s more or less true: Dr. Andrews has put me in charge of making sure you both attend. If you don’t—like you conveniently skipped the banquet last month—I get hanged for it.” She narrows her eyes at both of them, in turn. “And I’m not about to suffer because you’d rather—well, I have no idea what you two do in your free time.” She flails her free hand in their general direction. “I envision you playing chess while discussing the finer points of what you heard on NPR on the drive home.”
Neil and Shaun exchange a surprised look, because that is uncannily close to a lot of the evenings they spend together.
Morgan sighs and presses her previously flailing hand to her chin in faux-thought. “How have you two not bored each other to death yet? I guess it shows there really is someone out there for everyone.”
“Morgan,” Neil growls, shooing her towards the exit like she's a particularly unruly cat, “move along.”
“I’m not done with my threats, Dr. Melendez. Namely, if I show up to this gala at 7 pm sharp,” she points at the time on a flyer (like he’s blind or something), “and you two are not present, I will root out wherever in this city you are hiding from me and drag you there myself.”
Neil believes her and the thought of her showing up at his door is close to terrifying, though he takes some comfort in the knowledge that he’d have advance warning when the temperature dropped 30 degrees and the sky turned ominously black. (Maybe he should get some holy water on standby, just in case?)
Shaun apparently believes her, too, from the way he’s staring up at her with slightly widened eyes. “I do not want you anywhere near my home.”
Neil isn’t successful in hiding his laughter at that, and Morgan smiles at Shaun, but it’s all teeth. “Then be there, Murphy. Or else.”
“What’s this about?” Neil asks. “We always attend these events.”
“We just covered this,” she says, tone dripping condescension. “You skipped the banquet in October.”
“That was optional,” Neil strongly protests. “Aaron said we weren’t required to attend. That means not mandatory.”
“Dr. Andrews did not agree with Dr. Glassman,” Shaun needlessly reminds him.
“I still don’t see how their disagreement meant it was somehow my fault,” Neil mutters. He’d received a long-winded lecture the next day, wherein Marcus had issued him all of the blame and Shaun had gotten none (which was pretty galling because Shaun hadn’t wanted to go equally as much as Neil hadn’t).
“He believes you’re a bad influence on Shaun,” Morgan says, sounding nothing short of delighted. “That you talk him into skipping events. And that you’ll do the same this time.”
Neil can feel his outrage growing. “It was Murphy’s idea to skip it.”
“I do not recall that,” Shaun says innocently, and Neil narrows his eyes at him in silent indication he’s going to be paying for that lie later on.
“Shaun would never do such a thing,” Morgan defends him, even as her calculating smile means she at least strongly suspects that Shaun’s lying.
“Thank you,” Shaun tells her, as they both turn to look at him. (Oh no, Neil doesn’t like this, not at all. Residents ganging up on him…it never ends well.) “I always fulfill my obligations,” Shaun continues. “However, Neil has a valid point—the last banquet was not mandatory.”
“Until after the fact, apparently,” Neil adds, put out. “The board threw that banquet—for the board! An entire night devoted to congratulating themselves and telling each other how wonderful they are. It wasn't about promoting our hospital, it wasn't about fundraising…there was no reason for us to attend.”
“I had a fabulous time,” Morgan says, complete with a haughty flip of her hair. “Our board is phenomenal. The things they have done for this hospi–”
“Zip it, Reznick,” Neil orders. “There are no members around to hear you flatter them, and we’re not about to relay your speech, so your little show here is a lost cause.”
Her lips purse in annoyance and she shifts the stack of flyers from one arm to the other—that must be enough to remind her that she can lord this gala over them for several more weeks, since her grin returns full force. “Only 23 days to go!”
“We will be there,” Shaun promises. “I will make sure Neil does not skip it.”
Outrage! Neil’s outraged again. (He’s sure that’s what he’s feeling.)
Morgan opens her mouth, no doubt to make another snippy remark, but Shaun beats her to it, saying, “You mentioned chess earlier. Do you know its history?”
“No,” Neil answers, in her stead, “but I’m sure it’s fascinating.”
“Indeed,” Shaun answers. “We can trace it back nearly 1,500 years. The earliest known precursor to the game—”
Morgan nearly trips over herself as she backs away from their table with the kind of haste that makes it seem like she’s afraid she’ll accidentally learn something. “You two. I swear…” She turns on her heel and strolls off, calling over her shoulder, “I’m still going to harass you about the gala every day of the next three weeks.”
“You did that on purpose,” Neil says, once she’s out of earshot.
“Yes,” Shaun confirms. “Morgan is predictable; it is very easy to get her to do what I want.”
Neil wishes Shaun would share that trick with him (and the rest of the hospital, while he’s at it). “Why did Marcus have to pick the worst messenger slash enforcer possible?”
“It is his attempt at punishing us for missing the banquet.”
“He didn’t care that we weren’t there,” Neil says, a touch bitterly, “he was upset that he couldn’t show us off.”
“He was upset about me, yes,” Shaun agrees. “As for you… I do not know why he was upset that you weren’t there.”
Neil can’t help his smile at Shaun’s teasing joke (especially not when it instantly lightens his darkening mood). “Come on, Murphy. I’m Neil Melendez. No more needs to be said.” He’s speaking mostly in jest, but they are among the top draws at any event they go to. Shaun is effortlessly endearing, in his own way, and Neil can turn his own charm on better than anyone, when the situation calls for it.
“Okay, Neil Melendez.” (Shaun is definitely mocking him.) “Prepare yourself to attend on…” he glances at the flyer, “Saturday, December 15th.”
“Exactly when everybody wants to attend a fundraiser—smack in the middle of the holiday season and a week before Christmas.”
“I’m sure it will be festive.”
“Oh right, that’s what I’m most concerned about, Murphy. A lack of festivity.”
“Morgan was on the planning committee,” Shaun reminds him.
Neil had almost forgotten. “There will probably be tinsel everywhere.”
“Yes,” Shaun gravely agrees. “Probably.”
Neil’s about done with his lunch and he finishes his water before tossing the empty plastic container at the recycling bin some 15 feet away. He gets it in, but he almost hits Park in the process when the other man suddenly emerges from behind a pillar, and Neil barely hides a wince. Of all people to almost hit, Park is among the worst (he could probably get Neil’s driver’s license suspended with a single phone call). Park stops mid-stride and does a quick scan of half the room before glaring at Neil who holds up his hands in innocence and points at Shaun.
“It was not me,” Shaun says, without even turning to see who Neil’s gesturing to.
“Murphy doesn’t make a habit of throwing things across rooms,” Park says, as he stops next to their table. “You, on the other hand…”
“Shaun throws things all the time!” Neil protests. It’s unbelievable how he gets blamed for everything. (Granted, he was to blame this time, but is it so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt?)
Shaun barely reacts to his accusation. “I throw things back at you that you throw at me.”
“For shame,” Park scolds, shaking his head at Neil in disappointment. Then he tells Shaun, consolingly, “And you have to deal with him outside of work, too. I’m truly sorry.”
“I wish I’d hit you with that bottle,” Neil mutters.
Park’s smirking at him. “I thought it was Shaun who almost hit me?”
Damn Park and his previous career in law enforcement—how is Neil supposed to get away with anything around here?
“I accept your condolences,” Shaun’s telling Park, like they’re at a funeral. “And I appreciate your support.”
Neil crosses his arms. “I think I need to throw things at you more often.” He’s not sure which one of them he’s directing that towards. Is it ‘Residents Band Together to Harass Neil Day’? He racks his brain for some way to immediately reassert his authority. “I’m your boss. Both of you.”
Park looks decidedly unimpressed (and Shaun’s never anything except that when Neil tries to put his foot down), but thankfully, he doesn’t have to listen to any more on the topic because Park becomes distracted by the flyers on their table. “The holiday fundraising gala—I’ve been looking forward to that! I wasn’t here to attend last year’s. Mind if I take one?” He’s picking it up even as he asks the question.
“You’re excited about it?” Neil asks suspiciously. (How is such a thing possible for anyone except Marcus?)
“Free food, free drinks. A fun night out with everyone. What’s not to love?” Park carefully folds the paper and puts it in his pocket. “You two will be there, right?”
“If they know what’s good for them,” Morgan yells, as Neil spins around in his seat to find her at the wall some 30 feet behind him. (How did she hear Park?) She’s currently attaching flyers all over said wall with excessive amounts of tape.
“Think you have enough up there yet?” Neil dryly asks.
“This is optimal placement,” she informs them. “Everyone leaving the cafeteria will see them. One random flyer is easy to ignore, but ten of them together—”
“Is an eyesore?” Neil interrupts, as Park snickers and Morgan mimes like she’s going to throw the tape at him, but doesn’t follow through. (At least she has more restraint than him, in that regard.)
“Not an eyesore,” Marcus counters, as he stops next to Neil and Shaun’s table. “It looks terrific, Reznick. We really want to grab people’s attention.”
“You should spread them out a little more,” Park suggests.
“I won’t run out,” she assures him (as if that were something Park might have been worried about) and motions to the stack of papers on a nearby table. “I have hundreds.”
“Alex has the right idea,” Marcus says thoughtfully, then turns to Park. “You busy?”
Neil can tell that Park is definitely not busy and also desperately trying to think up an excuse to try and get out of tacking up flyers all over the hospital with Morgan. Unfortunately, he’s not fast enough (and it’s not like Marcus waits long, anyways).
“I’ll take the resounding silence as a ‘no’. Go help Reznick, I want to see them everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean everywhere. Every bulletin board, every staff lounge, every common area of the hospital—no one is going to use being ‘unaware’ as an excuse to get out of it. Not this year.”
The increasing complaint in their boss’s tone reveals it’s an excuse people have often used in the past. And it’s not even like everyone has to attend; it’s optional for most employees and the only people technically required to attend are most of the top-level staff—and of course the entire surgical department because Marcus wants to show them all off. The event has become so large that for the past few years, Glassman has arranged for their sister hospital to cover them for the evening (and they return the favor when Good Samaritan holds their Annual Spring Banquet, which is the same type of fundraising event, just under a different name).
“Sir,” Park begins, “Morgan hardly needs my help. It’s apparent that she’s already doing an excellent job and has this under—”
A shriek interrupts him and he breaks off as the four of them turn, almost in tandem, to watch as dozens of flyers go flying (and what an apt word for them, Neil thinks). Someone had shoved open an outside door with undue force and it happened to carry a draft across the room, over the table where Morgan had set the stack of flyers.
“—control,” Park finishes, in monotone.
Morgan manages to grab a few of them, and a passerby hands her some that they grabbed, but she still ends up alone in a field of colorful flyers that settle on the floor around her. A few even land on some empty tables. She’s also aware that she’s the center of attention for everyone on their side of the cafeteria, and her laser focus narrows in on her four colleagues, yelling, “Yeah, just keep watching—that really helps me!”
Neil swiftly turns back to face Shaun again, because if she catches him laughing at her, he won’t hear the end of it for weeks. (He wouldn’t put it past her to use black magic—or sheer spite—to fill his entire car with flyers.)
“Park,” Andrews murmurs, briefly shutting his eyes.
“On it,” Alex sighs, going over to help her.
Within seconds, Marcus turns his attention to Neil (who very much regrets not taking the previous opportunity to escape to anywhere else); their boss doesn’t say anything, either. He just stares.
Neil makes an exaggerated show of looking around the room. “Are Shaun and I the most popular attraction in this cafeteria? Should we start charging for these appointments?”
“Careful,” Marcus warns, “I could still order both of you to assist Morgan and Park with hanging up and passing out flyers.”
Neil’s not the least bit intimidated at that ‘threat’ (of everyone, Marcus knows how much actual work that Neil has to do, and he’d never sidetrack him with anything else, no matter how much he might threaten to do so).
“Why didn’t you get actual posters printed?” Neil asks, holding his hands up to approximate the larger size they would be. “Seems that would have been more effective than paper flyers.”
Marcus’s eyes sharpen on him. “That’s actually a great idea. Why didn’t you mention it to the planning committee?”
“I’m not on the planning committee.”
Marcus hums thoughtfully. “That would explain why you were never at the meetings… But I remember talking to you about them quite frequently, so how did you manage to avoid joining?”
“I literally turned and walked away every time you suggested I officially join.”
“Pretty underhanded,” Marcus notes. “You really thought you’d get away with that?”
Neil oddly feels like they're not speaking the same language. “I did get away with it. Until just now, when I told you how I avoided it.”
“Diabolical,” Marcus mutters, like Neil’s some kind of criminal mastermind (it’s pretty flattering, actually). “However, I like your suggestion enough that I’m going to make you an honorary member of the planning committee.”
“So long as it doesn’t involve attending any meetings, or making any decisions, or doing any work… I’m fine with that.”
Neil catches Shaun’s increasingly amused smile at his stipulations and taps his foot against Shaun’s under the table in acknowledgement (at least someone around here appreciates his sense of humor).
Marcus picks up the flyer Neil had rolled up earlier and smooths it out. “You will be attending this event.”
And just like that, Neil feels his annoyance return as he recalls Morgan telling (ordering) them as much. “Why did you task Reznick with ‘reminding’ us to go?” He includes air quotes around the word. “Shaun and I don’t need a babysitter to keep us in line.”
Marcus laughs heartily at that, and to Neil’s surprise, it seems genuine. “Sure you don’t. Now remind me, who skipped the banquet last month?”
He’s never going to hear the end of it about that damn banquet. Honestly, if he’d known the problems it was going to cause him in the future, he’d have coerced Shaun into going.
“It was optional,” Neil insists, and when Marcus’s expression doesn’t waver, Neil grumbles, “I’m buying everyone dictionaries for Christmas. Mark it down, Murphy.”
“Do they still make those?" Marcus wonders aloud, at the same time as Shaun vaguely waves a fork at Neil and declares, “I am not your personal assistant.”
Shaun makes a good point. “About that,” Neil snaps his fingers in their boss’s general direction, “why don’t I have a personal assistant? Or at least a secretary. I think I merit a secretary.”
“Knew I shouldn’t have come over here,” Marcus is mumbling to himself. “Knew I’d regret it.”
Neil’s smile has a distinct edge. “I always do my best to ensure that’s the case.” (He’s found it helps limit his interactions with Marcus and that’s usually the best thing for their entire department.)
Marcus won’t be deterred as easily as he usually is, and he quickly returns to their previous topic. “I never said last month’s banquet was optional.”
“You also never said it was mandatory,” Neil counters.
“I told Neil we should go,” Shaun chimes in, as Neil turns to him in disbelief. “Rest assured, Dr. Andrews, I will make sure he attends the gala.”
“I have no doubt, Murphy,” Andrews tells him. “You are the responsible one.”
Neil can’t decide which one of them has earned his ire more. “Are you two kidding me?”
Marcus doesn’t seem swayed by Neil’s indignation. “You promised you’d be at the banquet, Neil.”
“I don’t know about promised,” Neil protests, because he hadn’t used that exact word…had he?
“I told people you’d be there,” Marcus is saying. “Now imagine how disappointed I was when you didn’t bother showing up?”
“I’m sure you were very disappointed,” Shaun answers, with unnecessary gravity.
Neil looks at Shaun for a few seconds without blinking. “You are playing a dangerous game, Murphy.”
Andrews lifts his eyebrows at Neil in astonishment (though Neil finds it hard to believe that Marcus is still surprised at anything he does). “Are you trying to intimidate one of your subordinates right in front of your boss?”
“That depends.” Neil looks sideways at Shaun. “Is it working?”
Shaun’s smile informs him it very much isn’t. “He tries to intimidate me all the time, Dr. Andrews, but you don’t have to worry. He is never successful.”
“Never, huh?” Neil thinks he’ll have to work on that. “Let me elevate my threat level: you’re playing an extremely dangerous game.”
“No,” Shaun says carefully. “I do not think I am.”
Neil fails to suppress his smile—Shaun knows very well that despite Neil’s numerous complaints, he never truly cares when Shaun harasses him about (or blames him for) various things. When it comes to real issues, with real consequences, Shaun will defend him to the death, but by this point, neither of them considers Marcus’s displeasure as a ‘real’ consequence. (Mostly because their boss is always complaining about something, and it generally has to do with Neil, more often than not.)
So instead of belaboring the point, Neil turns back to Marcus. “I’m not even convinced you cared that much about me not being there. You were annoyed Shaun wasn’t there and you blamed me for that. Quite unfairly, might I add.”
Marcus tellingly doesn't deny it. “The point is that you’re going to this gala, Melendez.” He flicks a glance at Shaun. “Both of you.”
“I am going,” Shaun confirms, though it was never in doubt. “It is the most important fundraising event we hold during the year.”
“More money…” Marcus begins (since he’s well-aware of Shaun’s feelings on the matter).
“Means less people die,” Shaun finishes (as Neil echoes the end of that phrase in his own mind). “I will be there and I will ensure Neil goes, as well.”
Neil resists rolling his eyes and informs Marcus, “See? He promised for both of us. So you can call off Morgan.”
“I don’t think so,” Marcus says, with a definite air of amusement that he’s trying (and failing) to conceal. “Think of her as…my insurance policy. I saw how thrilled you were when she was talking to you earlier.”
“Why am I not surprised that you were lurking nearby to watch that whole exchange?” Neil asks.
“Your horrified reaction told me I picked the right woman for the job.” He points at the wall that Morgan has plastered with at least another dozen flyers; Park had long since helped her gather the ones from the floor and she’s alone again, so he must have gone off to put them up elsewhere. “Three weeks.”
“I have a request,” Neil says, though his tone indicates it’s more a demand than anything else.
“This should be good,” Marcus mutters, then adds, more loudly, “Out with it.”
“Don’t try to split us up. At the gala.” Seeing Marcus is about to protest, he explains, “You view these events like you’re a chess master: you move us all over the board like your various pieces, and you are always sending us to different groups.”
“That is true,” Shaun says, taking a renewed interest in the conversation. “I like Neil’s request. Let us stay together.”
Marcus’s frown indicates that, unlike Shaun, he is not a fan of Neil’s ‘request’. “There are a very limited number of people at this hospital who are as good at swaying donors as you two. In fact, you might be the top two—after me, of course.” He ignores Neil’s scoffing laughter. “That’s the only reason I do it—if I split up the best talent among our staff, we can all secure more donations in less time.”
“You have a point,” Neil allows, “but trust me, Marcus. I guarantee you that this will be our most successful fundraiser, to date, if you let us work together instead of keeping us apart.”
“We are better together,” Shaun quietly agrees.
Marcus sighs heavily, which informs them that he knows he’s already lost. “I don’t have a choice here, do I? I have to say, I appreciate you at least pretending like you’re asking me when we both know that you’ve already made up your mind.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Neil says, meeting Marcus’s eyes. (Because they both know exactly what he means.)
“Right,” Marcus says, clearly not buying it. Then he tacks on a reminder about a department-wide staff meeting in a half hour, and wanders off in Morgan’s direction.
“Anyone else want to join us?” Neil loudly asks, as he glances around. “No one? Has everyone already stopped by?”
“You guys lonely?” Audrey calls, from three tables over.
He issues her a glare. “No!”
“Neil,” Shaun chides, “be polite.”
“Know what politeness gets me, Murphy?”
“I would not know; I have not seen it.”
“You’re a regular comedian,” Neil says, laughing despite himself. “It gets me a lack of peace.” He sighs, gesturing at Audrey when she slides into one of the free chairs at their table. “Case in point.”
Audrey’s no more intimidated by him than Shaun is, greeting him with, “You seem to be under the impression that this is your own private lunchroom, Melendez.”
“It is the largest common area in our hospital,” Shaun points out. “And most people here enjoy our company.”
“I’m going to have to do something about that one of these days,” Neil gripes.
Audrey’s nodding at Shaun, like the two of them share some secret Neil isn’t privy to. “Only Neil would complain that people like him too much.”
“It means they won’t leave me alone.” How does no one understand the key point of his complaint?
“To be fair, everyone had legitimate reasons for interrupting our lunch,” Shaun argues (because of course he’s going to defend the others, of course he is). “Morgan because she has been tasked with ensuring we attend the gala; Dr. Andrews because he wanted to repeat Morgan’s point; and Alex because you threw a bottle at him.”
Audrey looks aghast for some reason. “You threw a bottle at Park?” Oh, there’s the reason.
“It was plastic,” Neil shrugs her off, then turns back to Shaun. “I’ll grant you most of those, Shaun, but why is Audrey here?”
“You invited her,” Shaun reminds him.
“That was sarcasm. I was being sarcastic. It wasn’t a real invitation, and yet—”
“You threw a bottle at Park?” Audrey repeats, horrified.
Neil shakes his head. “Are you still on that?”
She holds up her hands to tick items off on her fingers: “A, it was fifteen seconds ago. B, Murphy’s right, you invited me over. And C, are you insane? You do remember what Alex used to do for a living.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose, I was aiming for the recycling bin! Convenient that Murphy would leave that part out.”
Shaun’s watching him with clear disapproval. “I was stating facts.”
“Some of the facts. Not all of the facts. Facts which exonerate me, by the way.”
“I agree with Dr. Lim. You should not have thrown that bottle.”
Neil slaps both hands down on the table. “Is no one on my side?!”
Shaun seems concerned now. “I am always on your side.”
Neil can hardly believe what he’s hearing. “You just took Audrey’s side.”
“Insisting that you should be allowed to throw things around the cafeteria is ridiculous,” Shaun says, then clarifies, “I am on your side when you are not being ridiculous.”
“Good luck finding those instances, Shaun,” Audrey laughs.
“Since when am I advocating that I should be allowed to throw things all over the place?”
Shaun infuriatingly shrugs. “Your actions speak to your opinion on the matter.”
Audrey picks up the flyer Marcus had unrolled and (even more infuriatingly) waves it in Neil’s face. “Is someone in a bad mood because he’s been reminded this is part of his job?”
He snatches it from her hand, debates crumpling it up to throw at her, and then decides that would only prove Shaun’s point. “As if you’re such a fan of fundraisers.”
“I don’t mind them,” she claims. “What I don’t like is going after a long shift, that’s my main complaint. But I’ve specifically put in for the day off.”
Neil glances at Shaun, who immediately shakes his head. “We have an overnight shift the night before and don’t get off-duty until four hours before the gala. And you cannot request it off because—”
“—Audrey did,” Neil finishes. “Right.”
“You should plan ahead more,” Shaun suggests.
Neil very deliberately turns to Audrey. “Are you looking for a date to the gala? Because I think, quite soon, Murphy’s going to need one.”
“I would love to go with Shaun,” she says, grinning. Then she turns to Shaun, adding in aside, “I’m a much better time than Neil.”
“Impossible,” Neil scoffs.
“Be careful, Dr. Lim,” Shaun warns, “or you will be his next target.” He then has the audacity to add, “He might throw something at you.”
“No,” Neil says slowly, “it wouldn’t be at her.”
He and Shaun stare at each other in silent contest—not that it’s much of one, because Neil long ago mastered keeping a straight face. He credits (or blames?) years of being forced to show no reaction in response to absurd demands and requests from colleagues and patients and the board and Marcus. (Marcus might be the worst of all, in fact.) All of it means that he almost never loses, and sure enough, it’s Shaun who caves first, stoicism giving way as he breaks out into a smile he simply can no longer hide. And at that, Neil starts smiling, too. (They can bicker about anything, but there's rarely, if ever, any actual irritation behind it—they just do it because they enjoy it.)
Audrey’s looking back and forth between them, slowly realizing their entire ‘argument’ has been nothing more than a game. “Forget it—you’re both ridiculous,” she asserts, with a growing smile of her own. “And I’m getting back to work before I go into a diabetic coma through…I don’t know. Osmosis.”
“Stellar display of medical expertise,” Neil calls after her as she leaves, then turns back to Shaun. “I think we really had her going for a minute there.”
He realizes, in the following silence, that Shaun’s staring at him. No…Shaun’s studying him. Neil waits a few moments, but his resident says nothing.
“Are you okay?” Neil asks.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I am…” Shaun finally switches his gaze to the table, or more accurately, the forgotten flyer of Neil’s. “Thank you.”
Neil’s completely lost. “For…?”
“What you said to Dr. Andrews.” Shaun glances back up at him. “Telling him you wanted us to stay together. Asking him not to send us in different directions.”
Neil relaxes significantly. “You’re giving me too much credit. I said all that mostly for my benefit. You know I don’t love these things—I expect you to insulate me from the boredom that inevitably sets in among the most mind-numbing of the people that we’ll be forced to entertain.”
(Not that Neil has any objection to donors, in general. Plenty of them are generous people who give money because they genuinely want to help those in need. But a certain subset of them is insanely elitist, the type that only talk about themselves, and their wealthy lifestyles, and the worst—unsubtle insinuations that their mere existence in the world is a gift to everyone else. Marcus fits in quite well with that last crowd, come to think of it.)
“You are lying,” Shaun says quietly.
Neil’s taken aback. “What? I assure you that I’m telling the truth. I always have a much better time when we’re together than when—”
“Not about that,” Shaun interrupts. “I know you feel that way. I am referring to your claim that it was mostly for your benefit. That is not why you told him to leave us alone.”
“Shaun—”
“You did it for me.”
Neil can’t bring himself to deny it; there’s no point when they both know the truth. “I know how uncomfortable you can get with that many people around. And when many of them want your attention at the same time…”
“It is difficult to manage,” Shaun sighs in agreement. “And people always try to get me to dance.” He’s frowning now, as he studies the wall behind Neil where Morgan’s still taping flyers. “I hate dancing.”
“I know.” He’s seen Shaun decline people more times than he can count, but sometimes he’ll give in and agree (mostly when it comes to Claire). “But I promise, if I’m right there, I will warn off anyone who tries to harass you—whether about dancing or anything else.”
“You don’t have to promise. I believe you because you have done that before.”
Neil’s done it many times before, in fact. They haven’t been to any events in the two and a half months since they ‘revealed’ their relationship (because the only one had been the banquet that Shaun suggested they skip). However, in the past year, they’ve gone to around a dozen events and they naturally tend to gravitate towards each other (until people begin separately demanding their attention, or Marcus inevitably swoops in, deciding their talents are best spent with two separate groups instead of together).
Neil supposes he could have been more forceful in the past about wanting to stay with Shaun, but he hadn’t for two reasons: first, Shaun had never protested when Marcus split them up, so Neil figured he shouldn’t, either. And second, it hadn’t felt like his place to say anything. Sure, they’re friends, but he’d never wanted to overstep and try to control what Shaun did, or who he spent his time with. Shaun doesn’t need his protection, but from his reaction earlier, it’s clear that he wants it. And it's making Neil think he should have made his feelings on the subject known to Marcus (and to Shaun) a while ago.
“Helping you,” Neil slowly tells Shaun, “when we’re at one of those events…which we both happen to dislike? It’s the least I can do.”
Shaun switches seats so he’s no longer across from Neil, but in the seat next to him at the table. “The ‘least you can do’ is more than anyone else has done, when…” His sentence fades, but Neil hears the end of it: when they’re at those kinds of things. Neil isn’t entirely sure why, but people who know Shaun (even those who know him well) often seem to forget his boundaries when they’re outside of the hospital. Neil suspects it’s some combination of alcohol, a more carefree atmosphere, and the change in Shaun himself. But even though Shaun has a certain kind of more open, more welcoming persona that he’s learned to turn on, when needed, that doesn’t mean he’s ever comfortable with crowded environments or the increased social demands on him.
And the people who work with them should know that; it frustrates Neil to no end when their actions speak to the complete opposite.
“People should show you more consideration,” Neil says, expression darkening. He looks away, solely so Shaun doesn’t see how much it bothers him. The rest of the cafeteria is starting to clear out as the afternoon wanes on and people finish their lunches.
A hand sliding over his drags Neil’s attention back to Shaun, or more specifically, to his hand. Their hands, rather, since Shaun has set his on top of Neil’s, where he’s been absently resting his forearm on the table.
“It’s okay,” Shaun says. Neil has no idea what’s okay, so it’s a good thing Shaun clarifies with, “That people don’t understand. Because I understand.”
“…What do you understand?” (Neil’s having a difficult time thinking straight, for some reason.)
“That no one means me any harm. They don’t mean to cause me discomfort. Or anxiety. People like to touch each other, their friends and family. It is…me who is different. Not them.”
Neil feels his frustration growing. “That doesn’t mean that it’s okay to ignore your preferences. No one has the right to—”
“You are thinking of it the wrong way,” Shaun says, pressing his hand more firmly down on Neil’s. “It is one thing if they did it on purpose, to upset me. But they don’t. There is a difference between people forgetting and people wanting to show affection. Or comfort.”
Neil studies their hands, thinks he should pull away, but instead finds himself turning his own hand over so he can hold onto Shaun’s, in return. “Comfort, huh?”
“Yes,” Shaun says. “I do not want you to be upset on my behalf. Certainly not when I do not get upset. I might get uncomfortable with others, but I do not get upset when their intentions are good.”
Neil thinks about that, about how easily it reconciles with what he knows of Shaun’s incredibly forgiving nature; Shaun’s insanely practical, but whenever there’s an option, he chooses to see the best in people, and that positive outlook is something Neil has found himself adopting more often, the more time they spend together.
And Shaun is telling him that he doesn't want Neil to get upset about this, so…Neil breathes in through his unhappiness, and then he exhales, letting it go.
“See?” Shaun’s smiling at him. “Touching people helps. You are much calmer now.”
Neil doesn’t tell him that just being around Shaun makes him calmer (touching him simply magnifies an effect that’s already present). “Is this going in your research paper?”
It takes Shaun a few seconds to remember what Neil’s referencing—that day a few months earlier when Neil had joked that Shaun should log Neil’s reactions every time Shaun touched him. “I suppose it should. I am generally not a fan of casually touching people, however, I know it has a multitude of benefits. I have read numerous research studies.”
“Careful, Shaun,” Neil warns. “One day you might even start to enjoy it.”
Shaun only seems confused. “I already do. With…the right people.”
Neil pauses, considering that he must be one of those so-called ‘right’ people, and he doesn’t know how to respond to that. So he grips Shaun’s hand and tries to understand his abrupt urge to press a kiss to the back of it.
The overwhelming, uncanny feeling of being watched has him turning to find Morgan next to their table again, and he barely stops himself from reacting.
“Staff meeting in ten minutes,” she crisply reminds them. “I don’t want you two to be late…no matter how much I hate to interrupt this Hallmark moment in the making.”
“You’re extremely lucky you transferred off my team,” Neil tells her, mildly.
“That’s me.” Morgan presses her fingers to her temple in clear jest. “Always thinking a mile ahead.”
“We’ll be at the meeting,” Shaun informs her, letting go of Neil’s hand. And Neil feels a sense of loss that he can’t even begin to explain. Perhaps Shaun senses it, since before Neil can start questioning his illogical reaction, Shaun moves his hand up and wraps it around his elbow. Then his resident tells Morgan, “You changed your design.”
Neil turns to see what Shaun’s talking about—she’d rearranged all the posters to make an enormous ‘15’ on the wall.
“This way,” she tells them, “no one will forget the date. It’s subliminal messaging. What do you think?”
“I think…” Shaun begins, “that you do not know what the word ‘subliminal’ means.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know what it means. I was…exaggerating.”
“Then you don't know what the word ‘exaggerate’ means, either." He adds to Neil, in aside, “Perhaps dictionaries aren’t a bad idea.”
“Who still uses dictionaries?” Morgan asks, mostly rhetorical. “What is this, the Stone Age?”
“Actually,” Shaun begins, “dictionaries only date to—”
“I'm out of here,” she says, talking right over him, then walks away while yelling, “Remember, 23 days!”
“Well done,” Neil commends him, but Shaun’s already turned his attention back to the flyers on the wall.
“It will not be that bad,” he says quietly, and Neil isn’t sure which one of them he’s trying to convince more.
“We’ll be together,” Neil assures him.
“That sounds…better,” Shaun nods, turning back to him, radiating contentment. “Since we began this…a lot of things are better.”
Neil leans slightly into him, where Shaun’s still holding onto his arm. “I happen to agree, Murphy.”
It’s on the tip of his tongue to say that any hesitation, any reservations he might have had about their arrangement have finally been put to rest. (But he can’t say that, because he’d never had any to begin with.)
Chapter 4
Notes:
Finally, their holiday gala! And I have serious issues limiting myself (shocking to hear, I know) because this is only part 1 of it!
As always, love you guys and your encouragement, it keeps me going! <3
Chapter Text
“We are twenty-four minutes late.”
“I know, Murphy,” Neil says, as their driver stops the car in front of the hotel that’s hosting their annual holiday gala. He’d debated taking his own car, but after an overnight shift and the possibility of having a drink or five at the gala (who knows how many he’ll need to get through this evening) he’s not about to risk driving home later. He pulls up the app to give the driver a perfect score and tip her generously while Shaun rounds the car. “And do you want to know how I know?” Neil asks, as an afterthought. “It’s because you’ve been keeping me updated on exactly how late we are since 7:01.”
It’s like Shaun doesn’t even register Neil’s exasperation. “Twenty-five minutes.”
“It’s a fundraiser,” Neil points out. “Not a meeting.”
“You are late to plenty of those, as well,” Shaun says, absently pulling at the tie he’s wearing that Neil had lent him. He’d tried telling Shaun he didn’t have to wear one (since he clearly disliked them so much), but Shaun had gone off onto some tangent about the ‘image he presented to the world’, followed by an actual history of formal wear. (Neil had decided to give up once he hit the early 1900’s.)
“Look around.” Neil gestures at the steps in front of them, full of people meandering their way into the Ritz-Carlton, and then at the line of cars at the nearby valet stand. “We’re far from the last people to arrive.”
“That does not make us any more on time. It simply makes all these other people late, too.”
“Arriving fashionably late is a thing, haven’t you heard of it?”
“Yes,” Shaun says, a world of disapproval in that single word, as they make their way up the stairs to the main entrance. “I don’t like it.”
“It couldn’t be helped,” Neil claims.
“Twenty-five and a half minutes.”
“Keep it up and I’ll ditch you here,” Neil warns. “Leave you to the likes of Morgan and Andrews all on your own.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Can you at least pretend like my threats still have an effect on you? Or is that too much to ask?”
“It is too much to ask,” Shaun confirms, though he’s smiling by now.
“I needed extra time to get ready,” Neil insists. “You were there, you saw! None of my dress shirts looked right.”
“Everything you tried on was presentable,” Shaun counters.
“Presentable,” Neil blandly repeats. “You sure know how to flatter me, Murphy. And you wondered why it was so hard for me to settle on anything.”
“I am not trying to flatter you,” Shaun informs him, frowning. “I am telling you that you were wrong in your self-assessment of your wardrobe. And wrong about why you were overly critical of it.”
Neil’s too confused to keep up the argument. “What do you mean?”
“You were stalling.”
“Because I didn’t want to attend the gala,” Neil agrees. “You somehow figured out exactly what I’ve been saying for weeks.”
“No,” Shaun says, as an attendant opens the doors for them and they step into the lobby. “That is not why. You were stalling because you don’t want Dr. Andrews to think he can control you.”
Neil twists his head to look at Shaun so sharply that he feels a twinge of pain. “What?”
“Or Morgan,” Shaun adds. “You do not want either of them to think their threats are effective. By deliberately arriving late, you have made your point while still fulfilling the obligations of your job.”
Neil doesn’t know what he’s feeling at that moment, but he knows it’s distinctly unsettling—because Shaun putting it neatly into words has alerted Neil to the fact that it’s exactly what he’s been doing. And he hadn’t consciously known it. How could Shaun possibly…
Neil shakes his head to try and clear it, asking irritably, “Since when did you become a psychiatrist?”
“I am not a psychiatrist,” Shaun says slowly. “I just…know you.”
“Better than I know myself?”
Shaun’s obviously surprised. “You were unaware of your own motivations?”
“I…” Neil’s at a genuine loss before admitting, “Yes.”
“I thought you were only pretending not to know.” He seems to shrug it off, reaching over to lift Neil’s wrist and check his watch (which Neil knows is to make a point because Shaun has an uncannily accurate internal clock). “Twenty-eight minutes.”
Neil abruptly laughs, which is at least partly in relief at the sudden subject change. “We’re here, Shaun. We’re literally in the building.”
“We are in the lobby. Not in the ballroom itself.”
They’d been dropped off at the separate event entrance, which meant they were able to avoid any hotel guests, and Neil recognizes most of the people he’s seen so far—fellow colleagues and donors alike. (He’s mostly surprised that neither Andrews nor Reznick has descended upon them yet.)
“We’re still here,” Neil informs him, as they begin heading in the direction everyone else is going, presumably towards the main ballroom of the hotel. “That should count.”
Shaun tilts his head from side to side, apparently in thought, before declaring, “It does not.”
Neil stops in the middle of the lobby which causes Shaun to stop, too—they’re inconveniencing people who now have to detour around them, but Neil doesn’t care. “I feel like you’re going to argue anything I say at this point.”
“I am not,” Shaun protests.
“Ha!” Neil snaps his fingers. “Was that an argument?”
“…No?”
Neil leans in a little. “Careful, I think that’s another one.”
Shaun’s only response is to huff in annoyance and start walking again. Neil catches up to him in three strides, because despite Shaun’s repeated complaints, he doesn’t seem to be in any actual hurry to reach the gala (and Neil can’t blame him, because he’s not, either).
“Walking away in the middle of a disagreement means that I win by default,” Neil can’t help goading.
“All it means is that I am done listening to you,” Shaun counters haughtily.
“Not buying it, Murphy. Besides, think of how boring your life would be without me around to harass—I mean, challenge you.”
“Peaceful,” Shaun says lightly, his tone revealing he’s aware Neil’s ‘slip’ had been intentional. “My life would be peaceful.” (And Neil doesn’t miss it’s the kind of joke he himself always makes, so Shaun’s just turning it around on him.)
“And boring,” Neil reiterates.
Shaun glances away, which Neil is 97% certain is to hide his smile. “It might be…slightly duller,” he concedes. “Without you.”
“I might just happen to feel the same,” Neil admits, in an offering of truce that isn’t actually needed. (They’re both well-aware of how the other feels, by now.)
Shaun doesn’t look at him, but he brushes the back of his hand against Neil’s—and while anyone who happened to witness it would view it as innocuous (or more likely an accident) Neil knows it’s not. Shaun has very clear and defined boundaries. Other people might touch him occasionally (and he mostly puts up with it), but he never initiates contact with anyone unless he wants to. That means the gesture had been deliberate, meant to acknowledge what Neil said, and perhaps more importantly, signal his agreement.
Neil’s interpretation of the fleeting gesture occurs without conscious thought—it’s more something he inherently knows. And it’s not until after the fact that he realizes he has no idea how he knows it, but the fact remains that he does. Before he can dwell on it, though, they ‘officially’ arrive at the gala (as Shaun makes sure to point out), stepping into the grand ballroom at 7:30 exactly.
They stop just inside the doors, slightly out of the way of guests continuing to enter. It’s the largest venue Neil’s ever seen for an event thrown by their hospital, and it’s exquisitely decorated in reds and greens, golds and silvers—hints of every holiday light up the entire space. An oversized bar occupies one end of the room and at the other end is an elevated stage area; bracketed in between is a dance floor and dozens of artfully arranged tables. The room’s maybe half full already, and Neil’s seen the guest list (more like Marcus agonized with him over it many a night while Neil nodded along, pretending to listen to his problems), so he knows there are plenty more people on the way.
Memories of past events come rushing back to him: the falsely cheerful and upbeat persona he has to maintain the entire time; endless rounds of small talk on the same topics over and over again; the relentless assault from Andrews and any other members of the board who feel like throwing him at donors they can’t particularly stand just so they can avoid them; and, worst of all, the knowledge that he’s essentially trapped here for hours without reprieve until the clock finally ticks over to an hour where it’s acceptable for him to make a polite exit.
It all seems overwhelming, right then, and he turns to Shaun, expecting him to be having a similar (or worse) reaction. To his surprise, though, Shaun doesn’t look miserable. In fact, he looks the exact opposite of miserable. He seems almost in awe as he takes in the shimmering display of the room—festive, indeed. And Neil takes him in, the way he’s obviously impressed by the venue and the decorations, which are much more opulent than at any event they’ve been to since Shaun began working at Saint Bonaventure. (Their gala last year had been an event in and of itself, but nothing of this magnitude.) Witnessing Shaun’s delight at their surroundings is much more enjoyable than Neil’s automatically cynical thoughts, that’s for sure.
“What is wrong?” Shaun asks, without tearing his eyes away from the glittering garland strung up around the room.
“I… What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“You are tense.”
“I’m not tense,” Neil mutters…rather tensely. Time for another subject change. “Don’t wander off, Murphy. I’d never find you again.” (He’s not sure if he entirely means it as a joke.)
“You do not have to worry,” Shaun says, reaching up to touch one of the hundreds of ornaments that are hanging from the ceiling. “I would find you.”
(And just like that, a significant amount of Neil’s tension dissipates.)
Instead of examining his reaction to Shaun’s promise too closely, Neil makes a show of checking his watch. “I can’t believe we’ve been here for two whole minutes and no one has bothered us yet. Did we wander into the wrong event?”
“You do not recognize anyone here?”
“It was a joke.”
Shaun seems skeptical. “Was it?”
“I know this game. This is where you pretend you don’t find me hilarious when we both know that you do.”
Shaun’s expression betrays nothing. “Do I?”
Neil can’t help laughing, and for the life of him, he has no idea why he was so disillusioned only a few minutes before. (How could he forget, even for a moment, how much better everything is when Shaun is with him?)
“You are so lucky that you’re both here,” Morgan hisses, striking without warning like the viper she is, though she keeps her voice down as if she cares about propriety. (Neil’s amazed that her eyes shooting daggers at them don’t actually draw blood.) “I was thisclose to issuing a city-wide APB.”
“Dial it down, Reznick,” Neil tells her. “And maybe cut back on the crime shows. This isn’t Law & Order: San Jose.”
“She has no authority to issue an APB,” Shaun tells Neil, like Morgan isn’t standing right next to them.
“You both underestimate how many friends I have,” she says scathingly. “But feel free to go ahead and test me.”
That actually gives Neil pause, because he wouldn’t put something like that past her. Park might be the most likely to have contacts, but he at least has scruples and (probably) wouldn’t abuse that kind of power—even if Neil deserved it. Morgan, on the other hand? She’d do it without thinking twice and then gloat about it forever afterwards.
“Why are you thirty-three minutes late?” she’s asking, though she needn’t bother, because her tone reveals she’s already made up her mind that no reason will be good enough to explain away their lateness.
“Murphy took his time getting ready,” Neil says, throwing him under the bus without thinking twice about it.
“Nooo…” Shaun draws that word out to an uncomfortable degree, and Neil remembers too late that Shaun knows the real reason he’d delayed, so blaming him probably isn’t the best call. All Shaun does, though, is complain, “It was Neil who had to try on eight different shirts. Nothing made him happy.” (Neil’s impressed, because Shaun’s somehow turned things around on him with the truth, imagine that.)
“You look the same to me as you always do,” Morgan’s saying, apparently unimpressed.
“You mean stylish, as always?” Neil asks smartly, as Morgan rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. “That’s the point and it’s harder than you’d think.”
“Yeah, I feel so sorry for you,” Morgan says acidically. “You men really have it difficult when it comes to dressing for events like this.”
Shaun completely misses her sarcasm. “Then you understand why we were late. However, I maintain that Neil’s concern was unnecessary. Every shirt looked fine.”
“At least he put in the effort, Murphy,” Morgan snipes. “Not all of us are content with letting someone else do all the work.” She looks him up and down. “He took you to his tailor didn’t he?”
Shaun seems to be debating the wisdom of answering before he admits, “…Yes.”
Her eyes are growing sharper by the moment as she scrutinizes Shaun’s clothes. “And that tie is designer. You could probably afford it, but you’re far too practical to spend that much money on something…frivolous.”
“I’m borrowing it,” Shaun says, though it’s a futile attempt at derailing her current track.
She rounds on Neil with a knowing smile. “How rich are you, Dr. Melendez?”
“Very,” he says, in a tone that would have deterred anyone except her.
“You should be aware that your attractiveness level just increased ten-fold.”
Neil thinks she’s kidding, but he can’t be entirely sure (and he’d rather not dwell on the disconcerting thought).
Before he can switch topics, she’s turning back to Shaun with a sly look. “I’m impressed, Murphy. Turns out you do make some decisions that I approve of, after all.”
When Shaun casts him an unsure glance, Neil explains, “She’s insinuating—no, make that outright saying that you’re with me for my money.”
Shaun clearly considers that ludicrous. “That is the last reason I would be in a relationship with anyone.”
She ignores the protest and runs her fingers down the length of Shaun’s tie. “Make sure you take full advantage.” She lowers her voice, though deliberately not enough. “I can give you some pointers later, if you want.”
“Do not listen to anything she says about relationships,” Neil orders Shaun, then sets his sights on Morgan. “Some people have morals, Reznick. Unlike you.”
“Yeah, yeah, money has nothing to do with it. You two are just sickeningly in love, I get it.” She sounds mildly offended at merely having to utter the words. “Believe me, we all get it.”
Neil shifts uncomfortably at her summation, and that’s when Claire glides (there’s no better word for it) into the room and up to their group, greeting them all.
“Claire is four minutes later than we were,” Shaun tells Morgan. “Are you going to berate her, as well?”
“Do you know how long it took me to get ready?” Claire laments.
“My point, exactly,” Morgan says, in a show of solidarity the likes of which used to be pretty rare (though Neil has noticed they tend to stick together more often than not, lately). “We have more of an excuse than you two did.”
“Men have it so easy,” Claire agrees, managing to turn a simple phrase into something accusatory. “How long did it take you guys to get ready?”
“Aside from Neil’s eight wardrobe changes?” Shaun asks brightly, neatly sidestepping when Neil attempts to elbow him in the side.
“Let me guess, you showered and got dressed,” Morgan says. “I’m going to say it took you ten minutes, tops.” Before Shaun can protest, she adds, “Melendez’s fastidiousness notwithstanding.”
“That sounds accurate,” Shaun nods. “What did it take you? A half hour?”
Claire shuts her eyes and shakes her head.
“Too high?” he ventures, and Morgan actually looks pained at that question.
“Hours,” Morgan corrects, lightly twirling a few strands of hair. “That’s hours, plural. Showering, shaving, hair, make-up, jewelry, actually getting dressed…” She sighs heavily as Claire pats her on the shoulder in commiseration.
“You both look lovely,” Neil informs them, as they graciously thank him, and his compliment is quite the understatement to both of them. They’re pictures of perfection (and while he’d gladly have said as much to Claire, he’d never speak that word in relation to Morgan because she’d enjoy it too much).
The blonde’s hair is down in loose golden waves that she makes sure to artfully flip quite often. She’s wearing a fairly conservative fitted red dress (the color of blood, Neil absently notes, which she most likely chose on purpose) and it flares at the waist and makes her look as guileless and innocent as she isn’t. She’s a stark contrast to Claire, whose gown is ice blue and markedly lacier and fancier, with a lot more fabric. Morgan’s obviously going for sleek and professional, with a bold color to catch as many eyes as possible. Claire, meanwhile, is somewhere in the realm of Disney princess, with her hair upswept to show off sparkling earrings—her dress somehow matches her personality, perfectly. Neil knows she loves these things, secret romantic that she is.
“I agree.” Shaun’s nodding at Neil’s pronouncement. “You both look beautiful. Your routines were well-worth it.”
“Are you saying I don’t normally look beautiful?” Morgan scolds, but she’s clearly thrilled with the flattering attention from both men by the way she’s slightly preening.
Claire flicks her lightly on the arm. “What she means to say is: Thank you, Shaun.”
“Sure, yeah, thanks,” Morgan mutters, as she makes an excessive show of rubbing her arm and scowling at Claire. “Now, which one of these eligible bachelors should I go after first?”
“Where is your date?” Shaun asks, and the question has Neil vaguely recalling Morgan mentioning something about that a few weeks back.
Morgan doesn’t look at any of them, opting to fold her arms and stare off towards the dance floor. “Trust that you’d remember that.”
“I remember almost everything,” Shaun needlessly reminds them. “You told us fifteen days ago that you were—”
“I got it,” she snaps. “He couldn’t make it.”
Shaun won’t be (or doesn’t realize he should be) deterred. “Our holiday fundraiser has been scheduled for over two months.”
Morgan’s voice is rather brittle when she grits out, “He couldn’t make it because his wife would have frowned upon it.”
Silence falls for exactly five seconds before Shaun breaks it. “You were dating a married man? That is not conducive to a long-term relationship for you and him.” He pauses. “Or him and his wife.”
“You think?”
“Why would—”
“I didn’t know,” Morgan cuts him off, growing increasingly agitated (not that Neil can blame her). “He lied to me. He’s a liar.” She narrows her focus on Neil and Shaun. “You two are men. Why are all men liars?”
Claire’s scoffing laughter immediately draws Morgan’s attention. “Lying is hardly gender-specific. You lie more than everyone else I know—combined.”
“I lie to you people!” Morgan exclaims, waving a hand dismissively. “That barely counts.”
Morgan’s question about lying has settled uneasily somewhere in Neil. He’s never felt like he and Shaun were ‘lying’ to their friends and colleagues about their relationship, but if he’s being painfully honest, he has to admit that just because it doesn’t feel that way doesn’t mean it’s not exactly what they’re doing.
“Sometimes people lie for…good reasons,” Shaun says carefully, glancing at Neil. (And he wonders if Shaun feels anything similar to what he’s feeling right now.)
“I suppose, in his mind, trying to keep me and his wife from finding out about each other was a good reason,” Morgan mutters darkly. “Not that it matters. I decided that tonight would be better if I were my own date. After all, there’s no one I’d rather spend the entire evening with than myself.”
Shaun tilts his head in thought. “So…you could not find anyone else willing to accompany you?”
Morgan’s smile vanishes and she says, condescendingly, “It’s not as easy for everyone as asking their boss, Murphy.”
“I don’t know,” Claire’s smile is widening, “you could have asked Lim. She probably would have taken pity on you and said yes.”
“I chose to come alone,” Morgan loudly insists. “I don’t need someone monopolizing my time at a networking opportunity like this.”
“I didn’t bring a date, either,” Claire says. “But that’s because I’m swearing off men for the foreseeable future. Until the new year, at least.”
“That is only two weeks away,” Shaun points out.
“Right,” Claire nods. “Don’t want to set unreasonable goals. I saw Alex earlier and he didn’t bring a date. I’m pretty sure Lim’s other residents came alone, too; there’s nothing wrong with it.”
Morgan’s entire act slips as she studies their group with disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me that Murphy is the only one of us who managed to bring a date? And that’s because his date was more or less obligated?”
Neil realizes later than he should that it’s not a particularly flattering assessment of him or Shaun, but before he can caustically dress her down for it, Shaun starts speaking.
“I’m sorry that your date was not…a good person,” Shaun says slowly, “and that it makes you angry with everyone else.” When Morgan’s temporarily stunned into silence, he takes the opportunity to add, “You deserve better.”
Morgan hesitantly glances among the three of them, like she’s waiting for one (or all) of them to say the punchline. When nothing comes, she drops her head and murmurs a surprisingly sincere, “Thanks, Shaun.”
Not for the first time, Neil considers that Shaun’s difficulty in reading others’ emotions often means that he can piece together their motivations better than people like Neil. Feelings rarely cloud his methods of logical reasoning, and he’s able to see things that others can easily miss. (Like the fact that someone lashing out doesn’t necessarily mean they’re upset with the people they’re attacking…but hurting because of something else, entirely.)
This time, Neil’s the one who reaches over, brushing his fingers along the back of Shaun’s wrist in quiet appreciation. Shaun says nothing, doesn’t even glance his way, but he moves a half-step closer in response.
Morgan regroups relatively quickly, eyes returning to their usual sharpness with hints of barely-veiled threats. “Now, I’m off to the bar. And you two,” she points at Neil and Shaun, “my watch does not end simply because you deigned to make an appearance. You’re to stay until at least 11. Not my orders, that’s straight from Andrews himself. And I will hunt you down if you disappear. Mark my words.” She links arms with Claire (who’s smiling apologetically) and then almost forcibly drags her away.
“That was a fun lecture,” Neil mutters, then raises his voice. “I’d say I’m going for a drink, but no way in hell am I following her over there. Best wait until the coast is clear. If we’re lucky, maybe we can avoid Marcus, too. I haven’t seen—” He falters at the way he’s clearly lost Shaun’s attention.
His resident motions for him to turn around, which is when he comes face to face with Marcus, who’d been creepily lurking behind him, apparently.
“Look who somehow made it to an actual fundraiser!” Marcus slaps Neil on the back. “I had my doubts, I’ll admit, but I knew with Morgan on the case, odds were good you’d be here.” His expression turns more stern. “Late though you are.”
“You should be glad we showed up at all,” Neil informs him.
“Glad to hear it,” Marcus says cheerfully, which means he hadn’t heard a word Neil said and was merely waiting for a pause to keep talking. “Jessica was looking for you, Neil. She’s over by the bar with Aaron. And Shaun, one of our regular benefactors brought her sister this evening, and the good news is she’s just as wealthy!” He sets a hand on Shaun’s shoulder, turning him in the opposite direction. “They’ve been asking about you since they got here, so if you’ll come with me—”
“No,” Shaun says, dropping his shoulder so Marcus loses his hold, and takes a step back, which is (not coincidentally) in Neil’s direction.
“No?” Andrews sounds completely baffled, unable to comprehend what he’s hearing.
“No,” Shaun repeats firmly.
Marcus spares Neil an accusatory look, as if Shaun’s refusal is somehow his fault (though Neil supposes that’s fair…because technically it is). “What do you mean ‘no’, Murphy?”
Shaun doesn’t answer and the disappointed set of his mouth makes it clear that he’s none too pleased with their boss.
That’s when Neil decides to jump in and answer the question instead (he’s always prided himself on his great sense of timing). “I’m no linguist,” he says thoughtfully, amusement growing when Marcus narrows his eyes, “but I think ‘no’ means the opposite of ‘yes’.”
Andrews’ tone is clipped when he issues a sharp, “Neil.”
Shaun takes a deliberate step to his left, putting himself directly between the two men, and Neil knows (just like touching him earlier) that the move is no accident; it effectively interrupts the way he and Marcus have been staring at each other, so their boss has no choice but to redirect his focus to Shaun.
“You promised you would not try to separate us,” Shaun reminds him. “Yet we have been here for—”
“Fourteen minutes,” Neil interjects (even though Shaun likely already knows).
“—and you are already trying to do just that.”
Neil inwardly sighs at Marcus’s confusion, recognizing it’s not an act (Marcus is terrible at that, on the few occasions he attempts it). “You have no memory of this?”
It takes the other man a few more seconds to catch up. “That’s what this is about? I’d completely forgotten—I’ve had maybe ten thousand conversations since then.”
Shaun’s already shaking his head. “That is statistically improb–”
“Did I ask you to evaluate the possibility of my claim?”
“It is still improbable.”
Marcus must reconsider his strategy of trying to argue, instead saying, “I didn’t realize you were that serious about it.”
Shaun carefully glances at Neil before informing Marcus, “I am serious.” (And the way he says it… It’s as if he’s not quite sure that he’s interpreted things accurately. Or maybe he fears Neil has changed his mind, altogether.)
“We are serious,” Neil corrects, placing significant emphasis on that first word, more as a confirmation for Shaun than a warning for Marcus. Shaun doesn’t look at him again, but Neil can practically feel the way his resident relaxes upon hearing that.
“In that case,” Marcus tells them, “both of you come with me. Forget Jess, she can wait.” He risks a quick look towards the bar, maybe checking to see if she’s watching them. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
“Scared of her?” Neil taunts.
“Like you’re not?” Marcus throws back at him.
“Of course not.” When Marcus only stares at him, and Shaun doesn’t react (which means he’s equally disbelieving), Neil mutters, “Except for when she’s intentionally being scary.”
“Knew it,” Marcus says, gloating about being right, in his generally insufferable way.
“It’s fine,” Neil insists. “If she gets upset with me later for skipping past her, I’ll do what I always do—blame Shaun.” At Shaun’s look of reproval, he adds, “You’ll protect me from her, right?”
“No,” Shaun says succinctly, without missing a beat.
“I am loving this relationship more and more,” Marcus smirks at Shaun, purposely ignoring Neil glowering at him. “I’ve been waiting years for someone—other than me—to remind Melendez that the world doesn’t revolve around him. Never thought it’d be you, Murphy, but I have to say you’re better at it than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Neil would throw back a witty quip (if he had time to think of one), but Marcus strides off the next moment, apparently feeling confident in the fact that Neil and Shaun will dutifully follow him. And after a shared glance, they do. Because this is their job (and even if it weren’t, Neil knows how much this means to Shaun, and that reason alone would have had him volunteering for nights like this).
Thus begins a seemingly never-ending whirlwind of circling the room, with Marcus bringing them from group to group. They know some of the people already from past events (and of those they haven’t met yet, Marcus keeps assuring them beforehand that these people are all very influential and powerful and wealthy and don’t you dare screw this up for me, Melendez). Neil bristles every time he’s singled out, complaining that it’s hardly fair given his track record of securing donations, but he knows it’s just Marcus being Marcus—their boss hardly knows what to do with himself around Neil if he’s not antagonizing him in some way. (And besides that, Neil has always suspected Marcus likes Shaun a lot more than he likes Neil, and tonight is simply proving it.)
All of their co-workers know about Neil and Shaun’s ‘relationship’ by now, but few of the other guests are aware. One benefit of Marcus dragging them around the room is that their department head has no qualms about introducing them as partners. Neil’s relieved about that, because it’s not something most people are willing to ask (if they suspect it), nor is it something he wants to figure out how to drop into casual conversation. (It strikes him at one point that he never much cared if people knew about him and Jess, but he wants people to know about him and Shaun for the exact same reasons that he’d wanted everyone at the hospital to know: if it makes Shaun’s night even slightly easier—causing people to reevaluate before getting too close or doing anything that might potentially make him uncomfortable—then Neil will have accomplished what he wanted to.)
Their circle tends toward the socially progressive, and everyone accepts Marcus’s introductions in stride. A few eyes widen a little in slight surprise, mostly of the oldest generation present, but no one actually cares, which Neil finds truly refreshing. In fact, the reactions mostly go the other way—he loses count of how many people make comments that indicate they’d somehow thought (or ‘known’) that Neil and Shaun were together at past events they’d attended. Neil wants to be surprised about that, but the truth is, he’d gotten used to it long ago—his colleagues and their subsequent (mostly lack of) reactions to their relationship had more than prepared him and Shaun for people already thinking they were together.
There’s no dinner at tonight’s event, because Marcus had learned that lesson a few years earlier: when people spend half the evening eating an elaborate dinner, they get tired; when they get tired, they stick to their own tables and rarely mingle; and when they rarely mingle, it’s exponentially harder to get any money out of them—Neil still remembers the first fundraiser Marcus had spearheaded, because he’d seated Neil next to him (just to make sure Neil suffered, probably) and then proceeded to complain for almost the entire night about how people weren’t interacting like he wanted them to and that he was never going to serve them a four-course meal again. And he hasn’t since.
(Those were also the long, dark days before Shaun worked with them, and looking back, Neil has no idea how he got through even one event without him, never mind the hundred plus that he knows he did.)
What they do have tonight is an open bar and over a dozen waitstaff constantly circulating throughout the room with trays of appetizers; anyone who’d skipped dinner before coming would truly struggle to go hungry tonight. In fact, people are already starting to settle into smaller groups at some of the tables to converse or take breaks while enjoying the food and drinks.
The tables also serve as a convenient area to relax during the speeches. Yes, speeches. Neil has long-campaigned for Marcus to ditch them, but it’s a futile endeavor, because Marcus will never skip an opportunity to congratulate himself on a job well done in planning their night (which is what his ‘introductions’ of the other speakers always turns into).
To Neil, speeches are the event equivalent of tedious mandatory meetings and he despises them to no end. At least Marcus took pity on him this time and didn’t demand he give one—though to be fair, when the other man hinted around at it a few weeks prior, Neil threatened to skip the gala entirely, numerous threats from Andrews and Morgan be damned. What Marcus doesn’t know is that Neil would never do that for one reason: Shaun relies on him at these things, he always has, even before they agreed to fake a relationship, so Neil would never abandon him to his own devices. Marcus probably suspects that’s the case, but he’s not yet aware of how deep Neil’s compulsion to protect Shaun goes, so until he figures it out, Neil’s going to keep using his refusal to participate as a threat. (And once Marcus does figure it out? Well, Neil will find a new threat after that.)
After Marcus kicks off the speeches by welcoming everyone (along with somehow expertly asking for a round of applause for himself—and getting it), Glassman gives the first speech. He profusely thanks the attendees and talks about the history of their hospital, sounding proud enough that anyone in the room might be forgiven for thinking he founded it himself. After their president, a veritable parade of speakers, each more boring than the last, takes the stage. One reads directly from note cards for seventeen minutes. Seventeen minutes. (He might as well have dosed all their drinks with Ambien, for the effect it has on the crowd.)
A half hour into the ‘how-long-can-we-bore-our-attendees’ portion of the evening, Neil finds that he’s mostly watching Shaun and not anyone up on the slightly elevated stage.
Shaun is riveted as he follows along, and suddenly Neil doesn’t care about what anyone is saying; he cares about what Shaun is thinking. How can he be so interested in such monotonous speeches? It’s something he’s always wondered, but tonight he decides to try and figure it out—he moves his chair closer to Shaun and starts whispering comments about how sleep-inducing the speakers are. As he’d expected, Shaun takes it as invitation to respond, thereby revealing why he’s so fascinated with the endless speeches they’re being forced to listen to: he remarks on things he did or didn’t know, topics he finds interesting, and even makes corrections—a date wrong here, a name mispronounced there. After that, Neil enjoys the speeches a whole lot more. (Shaun’s commentary is much more entertaining than any of the people up on stage, by far.)
Inevitably, the speeches end and mingling continues. As the evening wears on, Neil finds himself relaxing more as he (and more importantly, Shaun) settles in. He knows that no one looking at him would notice any difference from his usual charismatic self, but the fact is he feels much different. With Shaun keeping him near-constant company, the evening gradually shifts from something he has to get through to something tolerable to something…pleasant.
And then it moves even beyond that and starts to feel—dare he think it?—fun. As an example, when a long-time benefactor brings up a recent paper that details new advances in robotics to assist (or even complete) surgeries, no one in their current group has the in-depth knowledge to analyze the pros and cons with Neil…except Shaun, of course. And his resident jumps in without hesitation (turns out he has the paper virtually memorized) and the two of them have a spirited debate-that’s-not-really-a-debate because they both fundamentally believe the same things. (They have this unusual way of arguing wherein they both support the same point, despite approaching it from different angles.) They know that, but it takes a while for everyone else to catch on, and once they do, the group dissolves into laughter and Shaun’s smiling at him and —
Well. Yes. He’s actually having fun. Who would have ever thought?
Shaun is as quick with new people as he is with Neil himself. He’s gotten better at social gatherings over time, but Neil has never seen him at ease the way he is tonight. Neil has no idea if it’s his presence that’s helping Shaun remain comfortable or if Neil’s simply seeing him in a newfound (and more appreciative) light than ever before. Their communication is effortless—before long, Neil realizes that they’re finishing each other’s sentences without missing a beat, like the entire night is some kind of script they’ve both memorized and practiced before stepping foot into the building.
It’s not, though. That’s what’s so amazing. And it’s what clues him in to the fact that he and Shaun have probably seemed like this for a long time now. (No wonder everyone thought they were together long before they…began to pretend that they were.)
Neil’s always been acutely aware that he’s popular (and it’s always helped his ego, tremendously), but Shaun… Shaun is loved. It’s a regular occurrence for people to fight for his attention in a group conversation; they fawn over his achievements, bringing up the airport incident and several high-profile cases that he’s gotten attention for since then; and his opinion is sought after by others in their field—people love to bring him their hardest cases, both past and present, to see if Shaun can figure out the issue it had taken them significant time to uncover, or ask if he can help them with current patients that are still baffling them (and 95% of the time, he does).
In the past, when Neil was a less secure version of himself, he might have been jealous that next to Shaun, he’s no longer the center of attention. But that’s not even close to what he feels watching Shaun nowadays. No one has any idea—with the exception of colleagues who have known Shaun since he first came to their hospital—how remarkable this is for Shaun, in the grand scheme of things. People see Shaun’s intelligence, his sharpness, his ability to put things together in a unique way that’s usually far more effective than the standards everyone else uses. What they don’t see is what he’s overcome to get to a place where he’s able to interact with others in a way that doesn’t cause him too much stress or anxiety. They don’t see the depth of deliberate effort Shaun has put into becoming more comfortable with people, into learning how to talk to them in the way that many take for granted as a natural skill.
Neil knows that most people assume socializing is easy and it’s Shaun’s vast array of knowledge that had been hard-fought for and won—they have no idea that Shaun’s world has mostly been the opposite. His intellect is a gift, and while learning had still been work for him, it was nowhere near as difficult as it was for the average person. It’s the social aspect of his life and his job that Shaun has grappled with. He’s come to Neil and Aaron and his friends for advice countless times; he’s carefully watched his co-workers interact with patients and their families; he’s methodically devised appropriate patterns and templates for the best ways to react to situations both common and extraordinary. It has taken time and work and struggle to become this current version of himself, and while Shaun will never be fully at ease with it, nor will it ever come naturally to him…he’s reached a point where almost no one can tell either of those things. So watching him tonight, how sure he is of himself, how secure he is in his knowledge and his position, despite his personal dislike of these social situations—Neil has never been more proud of him.
Which he tells Shaun, in an aside that no one can overhear, but Shaun’s pleased (and slightly embarrassed reaction) means their entire current group assumes Neil has said something of a more personal nature.
That, predictably, sets off another round of people telling them how ‘sweet’ they are together. Their relationship, to Neil’s surprise, has been a favorite topic of discussion among a lot of people. Neil had expected to feel uncomfortable about that, but in the end, he finds that…he doesn’t mind. He’d been half-joking that day in the breakroom, when he’d told Shaun that if people thought they were together, it would make Neil look better, but it’s true.
As it becomes clearer that Neil and Shaun are doing what they were very explicitly ordered to do, Marcus occasionally gives them more space, no longer hovering in his overly suffocating manner. Morgan still circles them frequently, but her stares turn from vague warnings to something Neil is afraid to label borderline friendly (and he can only blame it on the fact that she’s had champagne in her hand for the entire evening). She joins their conversations from time to time, but not often, because she’s trying to ingratiate herself with every influential person in the room and thus has no time to stay for the lengthier discussions, such as the one where Shaun regales a group with the history of Magnetic Resonance Imaging, which segues into how integral research and development (and thus money) is to the advancement of modern medicine. (Neil swears Marcus just stops himself from kissing Shaun for that, due to the quick agreement it draws from one in their current group, an actual billionaire; their boss settles for patting Shaun on the shoulder and praising him effusively—Shaun ducks his head but his brilliant smile informs everyone that he’s close to thrilled.)
Neil catches sight of his colleagues on and off throughout the evening. Glassman and Jess and Audrey all putting forth as much effort as he and Shaun are, but usually in different groups, because Marcus won’t let their combined talent become too focused in one area and is adept at guiding people this way and that wherever he sees fit. (They complain about it as much as Neil does, but the arguments he overhears are more good-natured than Neil’s ever are.)
Neil’s hardly aware that over two hours have passed until Claire wanders over, face flushed with excitement and maybe close to as much champagne as Morgan’s consumed. He and Shaun have broken away from the main part of the crowd to get some drinks and appetizers.
“Shaun!” she exclaims, sounding like she’s beyond thrilled to have found him after searching her whole life. “Want to dance?”
“No. I do not feel like it.” He’s studying Neil while he answers—or more accurately, studying his tie. The next moment, he sets down his drink and plate of appetizers on a nearby table, then reaches over to fix said tie, apparently deeming it too crooked for his satisfaction.
“You never feel like it,” Claire laments, perilously close to whining.
Shaun shakes his head a little. “I don’t—”
“—like dancing,” Neil and Claire finish the sentence with him, at the same time.
She gives up on him quickly, turning hopefully to Neil. “Dr. Melendez?”
“Maybe later,” he says, smiling at her. “I think if I go out there with you right now, and not any of these ultra-wealthy donors I’ve been turning down for dances all evening, then Marcus might actually take my office away and give it to Shaun.” (Which he’s been threatening to do all night, though in fairness the threats have slowly downgraded, now more of an ongoing joke, complete with Shaun describing every single way he’s going to redecorate in a manner he knows Neil despises the most.)
The real reason Neil refuses (which Claire probably suspects) is that he doesn’t feel like leaving Shaun alone for that long. It wouldn’t be just one dance—it never is with his colleagues. It’d start with Claire, but then every person he’s put off will ambush him (Jess and Audrey and a few others—and then Morgan would likely ask just for the hilarity of knowing he’d rather be doing anything else) and he’d be lucky to escape within a half hour. (And Claire must conclude he and Shaun are a lost cause, since she takes off the next minute to go find a more willing partner.)
It’s not like he and Shaun have remained glued to each other’s sides, but for the first time at an event like this, they’ve managed to spend most of the evening together. Having Shaun next to him is infinitely more enjoyable than whenever he’s not. Besides, Neil had promised that he’d ensure people left Shaun alone and he’s taken that seriously, no matter who the request came from, or what it entailed. Over a dozen people have inadvertently tried to split them up (their friends are unknowingly experts at it), with various requests to dance, or introduce them to other people, or any other number of random reasons that they claim they need Neil or Shaun’s separate attention. But Neil very adamantly won’t let Shaun go, nor does he go off with anyone, either. It’s the least he owes Shaun after how enjoyable this gala is (which Neil increasingly thinks is a direct result of Shaun always being within touching distance).
That’s another thing he’s found himself doing tonight—touching Shaun a lot more. It’s a natural extension of the way they’ve become increasingly open with each other, but tonight it’s even more than that. A brush of his hand here, a tap on his arm there. It’s reassuring to reach out and know Shaun’s right next to him, know that he’s okay. Despite Shaun’s dislike of too many people and demands, too much noise and stress, he’s right here and he’s okay; Neil doesn’t have to quietly wonder about it—worry about it—like he has so many times before at these events, tuning out conversations with strangers while despising the fact that Shaun is nowhere in sight, that he’s too far away for Neil to even see, never mind check on. Or reassure. Or help.
So maybe…maybe their arrangement tonight is doing as much for Neil as it is for Shaun. Because it’s not until that constant, restless unease is gone that Neil realizes how much it’s always affected him. He’s simply gotten used to it over time, accepted it as an inevitable part of these things, but…it’s not. It doesn’t have to be.
As if Shaun’s reading his thoughts, he reaches for Neil’s tie again (it must be the sixth time tonight), and it’s no secret to Neil why he’s doing it: there’s always a low-level anxiety in Shaun around this many people (no matter how much of a successful front he puts up) and he’s been using Neil as his preferred coping strategy all evening. This is the second time ‘fixing’ his tie in as many minutes, though, so Neil feels a flare of concern. He sets his own plate down so he can put his hands over Shaun’s where he’s still fussing with his tie (that couldn’t get any straighter unless Shaun had a ruler on his person, somewhere).
“Are you alright?” Neil asks quietly.
Shaun doesn’t pull his hands away as he considers that question with unusual gravity. “Yes,” he finally says. “Things are better.”
As easily as that, Neil’s worry tamps down to a much more manageable degree (because it’ll never fully go away when it comes to Shaun, he knows that by now). Shaun’s words are an echo of the conversation they’d had in the cafeteria the first day Morgan had ‘reminded’ them about their mandatory attendance at the gala. There’s a difference, though, between hoping tonight would be easier because they had each other, and actually experiencing how remarkable it’s been.
To know that Shaun feels the same is…everything.
“Things are better,” Neil repeats, gripping Shaun’s hands lightly in reassurance before he releases them. “If I’d known how much better it would be, I’d have…” He trails off at the direction of his own thoughts and shakes his head in amusement, mostly at himself. “I’d have pretended to date you a long time ago.”
Shaun doesn’t say anything to that, but the way he smiles and pulls lightly at Neil’s tie one last time is more than enough indication that, when it comes to that sentiment, Shaun overwhelmingly approves.
Chapter 5
Notes:
So if you like this gala, the good news is there'll be a third part! And for anyone curious about my current estimate for this story, I'd say like...9/10 chapters? (Sooo...15-20? ;)
Chapter Text
“Four minutes.”
“Eight minutes,” Shaun counters.
“You are living in a dream world if you think Andrews is going to leave us alone for that long,” Neil scoffs, as he turns his chair to better oversee the ballroom. “In fact, I want to revise my guess; it was much too high. Two minutes.”
They’ve settled near the back wall to enjoy their appetizers and take a break from everyone; their table is set slightly apart from the rest and Neil can only guess that some people had deliberately moved it further back in order to have a private conversation. The room’s starting to get a little warm, so they’d draped their suit jackets over the backs of their chairs, and enough of the tables near them are occupied to the point that they have some cover.
They’re effectively hiding in plain sight. (Neil’s mastered that over the years.)
Still, he’s learned never to underestimate Marcus, which is why he’s convinced their boss is going to seek them out sooner rather than later. That had led to the offhand bet he’d made with Shaun, speaking of which…
“Since I changed my guess, want to change yours? Seems only fair.”
“Mine was not a guess,” Shaun tells him, and if Neil’s not mistaken, he sounds insulted at such an insinuation. “It was a calculated estimate—”
“What’s another word for ‘estimate’?”
“You are throwing out numbers at random. Whereas I made…an estimated calculation—”
“Did you just switch the words around?” Neil rests an elbow on the table so he can prop his head on his hand. “In a futile attempt to talk around the fact that you’re guessing?”
Shaun raises his voice. “My assessment is based on the group Dr. Andrews is currently speaking with.” He tips his head. “Over by the stage. Dr. Glassman is there, along with three other board members, and—”
“—the billionaire,” Neil finishes, having caught sight of the wealthy man Shaun had impressed earlier that night (he holds a number of engineering patents, or something, and Morgan has been hovering around him all evening). “AKA Marcus’s favorite guest tonight; you’re right, Shaun, if there’s ever a group he’s reluctant to leave—”
“—it would be that one,” Shaun confirms. “What do I get when I win? You didn’t set any terms for our bet.”
“When you win, hmm?” Neil studies his plate, unable to decide what he should try first (he’s not even sure if he’ll be able to identify half of the things he’d grabbed before he tastes them). “Someone’s overly confident.”
“I am the perfect amount of confident.” Shaun must notice Neil’s uncertainty since he starts pointing to foods as he names what they are. “Vegetable spring rolls, mini-quiche with mushrooms, cheese and pear tartlets, bacon-wrapped quail—”
“Quail?” Neil can’t decide if he should try that or skip it. “How do you know what everything is? I swear every food is wrapped in…six other kinds of food.” He holds up one of the (apparently quail-bacon) appetizers to illustrate his point.
“I listened when the servers explained what they were holding. You did not.”
Oh right, he’d been talking to Jessica. Or more like trying to fend off Jessica, as she asked about his and Shaun’s ‘relationship’ (“Things must be going great if you two won’t leave each other’s side!” ) and when he’d finally gotten her off that uncomfortable topic, she’d started talking about her upcoming wedding. (It was a real toss-up on which of those subjects he wanted to discuss less.) He’d only gotten away from her because Marcus had (almost literally) hauled her away, saying he needed her for…something Neil had instantly tuned out.
Marcus’s inability to leave any of them alone worked out in Neil’s favor for once—who’d have guessed? (And he might have said that out loud, which earned him a glare and a threat from their boss that he’d remember that when he circled back around and sought out Neil specifically next time.)
That’s another reason Neil is convinced his reprieve with Shaun will be short-lived—but that was also before Shaun pointed out that Marcus is preoccupied with one of the few people in this room he’ll have a difficult time stepping away from. (Which isn’t to say that Marcus won’t do it, just that it’ll take him a few minutes longer, which consequently means Murphy is probably going to win the bet…not that Neil will admit as much.)
“What do you want if you win?” Neil makes sure to stress that winning is not an inevitability (because hey, he can hope that he’ll best Shaun one of these days).
Shaun twists in his chair to face him more directly, appearing to give the matter serious thought. Neil takes advantage of the pause in conversation to try a few things on his plate and isn’t surprised to find they’re all fantastic—even the foods he still can’t identify. (Give it to Marcus, if there’s one thing he excels at, it’s making sure every aspect of their evening is up to his impeccably high standards.)
“I have everything I want,” Shaun finally tells him, and the sincerity of his answer has Neil curbing his automatic reaction of making a joke in response.
“Everything?” He’s more than a little skeptical. “You can’t think of a single thing you’d want?”
“I want to never wear a tie again.” Shaun pulls at his shirt collar with a grimace. “But I enjoy my life. I don’t need anything else.”
“I didn’t mean in an existential sense,” Neil explains. “More like something I could…I don’t know, buy for you?”
“I do not need you to buy anything for me.”
“I know you don’t need me to, but it’s a bet, Shaun. The winner’s supposed to get something.” He’s trying to think of anything Shaun has mentioned wanting, but nothing recent comes to mind. “How about if you win, we’ll do whatever you want on our day off tomorrow.”
“We were probably going to do that anyways,” Shaun replies. “You usually want to do whatever I suggest. And when you don’t, your alternative is always something I find agreeable.”
He’s right…and Neil hadn’t even realized it until Shaun pointed it out.
“Well…whose fault is that?”
“Yours,” Shaun says, succinctly.
Instead of arguing, which he really can’t, Neil thinks about the truth of it. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but Neil’s pretty easy-going, and coupled with the fact that they have many of the same interests means it’s rare he disagrees with anything Shaun suggests—whether it’s going to one of their favorite restaurants, or attending a lecture by someone in their field, or something as mundane as running errands together. Somewhere along the way, Neil’s found that his happiness has become inextricably linked with Shaun’s—if Shaun’s happy, he’s happy.
And tonight…Shaun’s happy.
No, this will never be his (or Neil’s) favorite thing to do, but they’ve only been at the gala for a few hours and the evening is already an overwhelming success, if Neil’s mental tally of donations is anywhere near accurate. Things have also been easier for Shaun (for both of them, really), because they’re together. All of it combined means Shaun is content in a way Neil has never seen at an event like this before.
“Alright,” Neil picks up the threads of their conversation, “how about if I win, we’ll do whatever I want tomorrow. And you can’t say no.”
Shaun eyes him suspiciously. “Is what you want going to be whatever I want?”
Neil sips his drink to hide his smile. “Maybe.”
Shaun must approve of that answer, since he smiles widely in return. “I think you are the one who does not understand bets. Not that it matters, since I’m going to win.”
“Look, Murphy, I hope you win, because the longer it takes for Andrews to find us, the more time we have to relax. I think we’ve earned a few minutes of peace.”
“I have earned it,” Shaun says primly, tone indicating he’s thoroughly enjoying where this is going. “You, however…”
“I’m certainly not going to argue that people enjoy your company much more than mine.”
“You have fans,” Shaun allows, ignoring his food in favor of pulling at the knot of his tie.
“Would you stop doing that?” Neil scolds, though there’s no real censure in it (truthfully, Shaun’s making him feel suffocated). “You’re going to stretch out the fabric, and don’t think that I won’t bill you to replace it. $250, Murphy.”
Shaun instantly drops his hands, somewhere between disbelieving and horrified. “You are not serious.”
“That I’d bill you? No. That it cost that much? Yes.” Since Shaun is less than thrilled with that, Neil adds reassuringly, “Don’t worry, it’s actually one of the cheaper ones I own.”
Oddly enough, Shaun doesn’t seem reassured. He returns his hand to his neck, brushing over the edge of the tie before complaining, “It’s too tight.”
“It’s not too tight.”
Shaun exhales dramatically. “It is.”
“It’s not. And I know because I’m the one who tied it. The last thing I’d do is strangle you.” He waits a beat before adding, “I need you alive to continue taking care of all the patients I don’t want to deal with.”
Shaun tries to look disapproving, but he’s ultimately unsuccessful. “You should be nicer to your residents, Dr. Melendez.” He emphasizes the title. “They have the power to make your life miserable.”
“Often without even trying,” Neil agrees.
Shaun frowns at the way Neil has successfully turned his warning into a mild insult. “It goes both ways.”
Neil sends him an assessing glance. “I make your life miserable, huh?”
“You do not,” Shaun answers quickly, the way he always does when he’s afraid Neil has misinterpreted something meant in jest. “You know you do not.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. “It was a joke.”
Neil doesn’t quit, because he never can with Shaun; not when he’s having this much fun. “Are you sure?”
“I suppose you want me to go back out there without you.” There’s zero sincerity behind Shaun’s threat and they both know it. (Despite that, Neil hates the idea of it, anyways.)
“You can’t. I won’t let you.” He means it, too. He’s reached the point that the thought of being without Shaun for the rest of the night… Neil can’t go back to that. He won’t. (Maybe not ever—Shaun might have unknowingly earned himself a permanent date for everything they have to attend for the rest of their lives.)
“Fine,” Shaun allows graciously, like he’s doing him the grandest favor, “I will stay with you.”
“You better. And you’d be wise to enjoy this break while you can,” Neil adds. “It astonishes me that Andrews hasn’t stormed over to lecture us yet.”
Marcus must have supersonic hearing, there is no other way to explain it, because the very next moment he’s standing next to their table, staring down at them with excessive amounts of judgement and disapproval. “Murphy and Melendez.” Despite naming both of them, his eyes settle on Shaun. “Why are you sitting in this corner, substantially far away from every single one of our donors?”
Shaun pays him no mind, turning to Neil triumphantly. “Eight minutes.”
Neil checks his watch. “Sorry, Murphy, it’s only been sev–” The minute changes before he can finish the word. “Never mind.” He glances at Shaun. “I hope you know how unnerving it is that you can be that accurate.”
“Because I was not guessing.”
Before they can rehash the same argument all over again, Marcus loudly clears his throat, making no effort to disguise how unhappy he is at effectively being ignored. “Do I want to know what you’re talking about?”
“We made a bet about how long it would take you to find us,” Shaun tells him. “I won.”
“Of course you did,” Marcus says wryly, before his expression returns to stern displeasure. “Do you have an answer for why you’re both hiding out back here, Murphy?”
“Has our goodwill from earlier already evaporated?” Neil’s question draws Marcus’s attention towards him, which is what he’d intended, because the other man knows better than to turn his censure on Shaun if Neil’s anywhere in the remote vicinity.
Marcus studies him, then wilts the slightest bit, and Neil guesses it’s a combination of being reminded how well he and Shaun have done so far, along with the clear warning on Neil’s face that one ill-advised word to Shaun means that their decision to take a break will be the least of their boss’s concerns.
“We did not even leave the room,” Shaun points out, swirling his water in the Baccarat crystal glass the bartender had insisted was all he had. (God, these galas are pretentious—no wonder Marcus is always so much in his element at them.)
“You are allowed to eat and drink,” Marcus says, and only he could manage to sound magnanimous with such a statement. “I suppose.”
“So glad we have your permission,” Neil replies, and blames hours of being ‘on’ (for lack of a better word) as to why he’s not fast enough to pull his plate away when Marcus grabs a mini-quiche.
“Do we need to have a refresher on boundaries?” Neil gripes, glaring up at him as Marcus eats his appetizer (and doesn’t have the grace to look even slightly ashamed). “I distinctly remember at the symposium we attended this summer, you—” Neil stops mid-complaint when Shaun tips his own plate over Neil’s and gives him the quiche he apparently doesn’t want. “Someone around here is thoughtful.” He directs those words at Marcus, then taps Shaun’s forearm in a wordless gesture of thanks.
Marcus looks between them, but refrains from any comment before turning to scan the room again. He’s clearly torn between lecturing his subordinates (one of his favorite pastimes) and his desire to get back to his precious donors.
“I think we’re pulling off quite the successful evening thus far,” their boss tells them, maybe seeking a more neutral topic as he motions around the room. “Would you believe that we came in under budget?”
“The committee certainly outdid itself,” Neil says, not wanting to give Marcus too much credit (his ego hardly needs it).
Of course, Marcus still takes that as a compliment meant only for him. “It’s undeniable that I run it extraordinarily well.”
Shaun glances at Neil, pressing his lips together in an effort to hide his smile, because he recognizes what Marcus is doing just as well as Neil does (and knowing that Shaun’s fighting the same reaction makes it easier for Neil to take).
Marcus starts going on about all he had to do to make the night a success, and while Neil doesn’t doubt that it was a lot of work, the other man’s insinuations about doing it out of selflessness are a little too much. Marcus knows the more money they raise, the better he looks, and Neil can’t blame him for wanting credit, but the constant self-adulation is tiring. Neil’s also heard all this before (many, many times before—i.e., at every event the two of them have ever attended that Marcus oversaw), so Neil blocks him out as he turns back to Shaun, sighing inwardly when he sees that Shaun is pulling at the tie again.
“—told me that they haven’t come across a more elegant fundraiser in their ten years of supporting our hospital. I told them it was a team effort—but wrangling that team took all my skill and patience at times!” Marcus laughs like he’s told a particularly hilarious joke, and looks pointedly at Neil, probably wanting some type of agreeable response.
“…No one can scare people into action the way you can?” Neil phrases it as a question, but Marcus’s eyes still light up. (Figures that Marcus would interpret that as the highest of compliments.)
He grins widely at Neil and claps him on the shoulder. “You flatter me, Melendez.”
The look on Shaun’s face says something along the lines of: ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing from you’, and Neil shrugs helplessly, still distracted by the way Shaun’s intermittently fussing with his collar and tie. (Besides, in his defense, he’d thought if he humored Andrews, he’d move along that much faster, but it’s backfiring and oh come on, now Marcus is taking a seat at their table?!)
Marcus begins rambling about how many donations they’ve secured so far, and aside from an O.R., Neil’s never seen his colleague more at home than at these fundraisers, surrounded by the kinds of wealthy and influential people Marcus someday hopes to be—Neil’s pretty sure his dream is to one day have people like Neil and Shaun attempting to charm him out of substantial amounts of money that he can afford to dole out the way regular people unthinkingly spend a few dollars on coffee.
“Did you try the quail?” Marcus queries, and Neil honestly isn’t sure if it’s a new subject change, or if it switched a few minutes ago and he’d failed to notice. “It’s not my favorite preparation, but I still found it exquisite.”
“Pre-ten-tious.” Neil makes sure to draw out every syllable.
Marcus makes an unflattering display of loudly shushing him that doubtless draws more attention than the calmly spoken word which had spurred it. “Keep your voice down, Melendez! Pretension is an essential tenet of these people’s lives so do not let anyone hear you say such a thing as an insult—it’s practically sacrilegious in this room. Just play along. You’re good at that.”
Neil’s mood instantly darkens, because Marcus lecturing him on how to treat the elitists he’s stuck with all night is irritating as hell (and the condescension in the other man’s voice makes it all the worse). “I’m shocked that you’re such an expert on pretension, Marcus.”
Andrews isn’t about to let that one go. “Care to expand upon that thought?”
Neil’s never heard a better suggestion, and he’s about to do exactly that, but then Shaun says, “Neil,” and everything momentarily stops; it’s like the gathering cloud over their table evaporates into thin air.
Shaun doesn’t have to say anything else—Neil knows what the quiet reminder was for (and so does Marcus, for that matter). He lets his shoulders relax, because sometimes (most of the time) Shaun is all he needs for his tension to vanish.
He sends a measured (if slightly challenging) look towards Marcus and isn’t surprised when the other man tilts his head in silent agreement to move on. After all, their goal tonight isn’t to argue, and if they keep going, they’re going to upset Shaun who despises fights more than almost anything else. He’s likely to make himself scarce—maybe even leave the fundraiser altogether.
And Neil isn’t going to make it through the rest of the night without him.
But Marcus isn’t leaving them alone, either. He’s just sitting there, seeming confused about how quickly the atmosphere changed, and trying to figure out how to proceed. Neil can only imagine, perhaps uncharitably, that Marcus is trying to figure out how to reassert his authority without upsetting their current truce.
“We’d appreciate a few more minutes,” Neil says perfunctorily, and despite the politeness of the words, his tone says nothing except ‘Go away’.
Marcus checks the time on his phone. “I can’t believe I’ve wasted nine minutes over here with you two,” he complains. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.”
Neil squints at him. “Can you? Because tonight’s proving otherwise.”
Marcus pretends not to hear him, switching his gaze between Neil and Shaun. “You two work,” he says, suddenly. “I don’t know why, or how. But you do.”
Neil’s mind must be running slower than usual, since it takes him a few long seconds to realize Marcus is referring to their supposed relationship and not their actual jobs.
“Thanks…?” Neil tries, as he and Shaun exchange a glance that reveals neither of them has any idea why Marcus would bring that up—or where he’s going with it, for that matter.
“You’re different, Neil.” Marcus sounds like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that’s been vexing him for a while. “Murphy makes you…lighter. Less severe than you used to be.” He nods, apparently satisfied with that description. “You’re more tolerable, overall. I don’t want to fire you half as much as I used to.”
“What a compliment,” Neil says dryly, sending a grin Shaun’s way.
“And you,” he rounds on Shaun, “Melendez makes you…” He trails off, casting a cautious side glance at Neil (in one of his first displays of good judgement when it comes to them this evening).
“Am I more tolerable, as well?” Shaun asks, and though his tone is light, there’s a hint of true question there that Neil can’t stand hearing.
Marcus shakes his head, with a brief look Neil’s way, maybe sensing that it’s all Neil can do to bite back his objection to the implication Shaun’s making. “No, Murphy. He’s helped you become more…relaxed. You’re more at ease with the world—with this kind of world.” He waves a hand behind him, indicating the room at large. “This part of our lives.”
“That has nothing to do with me,” Neil immediately protests. There’s no way he’s taking credit for something Shaun has worked so hard at accomplishing for himself.
“It has something to do with you,” Shaun says steadily, waiting for Neil to look at him. “I told you that you make things easier for me. That includes…this.” He’s glancing around the room now. “Everything about this.”
Neil swallows heavily, because this is another one of those things that he’d already known, but it’s so much different to hear it. “I understand what you’re saying, but it’s mostly you, Shaun. You learned this on your own. I didn’t gift you with some ability to charm donors, or fight back your own discomfort in order to navigate social situations as well as you’ve done tonight.”
“I learned much of it from you,” Shaun insists. “Talking with you. Listening to you. Emulating the ways you interact with others. And you have helped me aside from that. Your presence helps me.” He falls silent for a few seconds, running his finger around the edge of his plate, not looking at either of them. “Dr. Andrews is correct. I’m able to relax around you in a way I can’t with anyone else. At the hospital, or at home, or…even someplace like this. When we’re surrounded by hundreds of people.”
It’s a little stunning for Neil to hear how deeply he’s affected Shaun’s life, especially on a daily basis, and he needs a minute to process all of that. He replays Shaun’s words in his head, relishing the innate happiness they bring him, because this is all he’s wanted when it comes to Shaun: teaching him how to live up to his full potential as a surgeon, helping him interact with other people, and most importantly, taking away some of the stress he faces on a daily basis.
And it’s not like this is a one-way street, either.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” Neil tells him. “I hope you know that you’re just as important to me as I am to you. Do you know why Andrews says that I’m—as he so flatteringly puts it—‘more tolerable’ nowadays?” When Shaun shakes his head, Neil explains, “It’s because of you. You keep me…” He desperately searches for a word that describes the effect Shaun has had on him, especially these past few months (and stretching back well before they started this pretend relationship, which has somehow turned into one of the best ideas Neil’s ever had). “Sane, Murphy. You keep me sane.”
Marcus coughs and mutters, “That is highly debatable.”
“Especially around our colleagues,” Neil explains, with an exaggerated nod towards Marcus. “When I just can’t take them anymore, I look to you and it’s like…this calm washes over me. You remind me that…everything’s fine. Or everything will be fine.” He thinks back over a few of those instances, a handful of which had occurred tonight. “You remind me that there are very few things worth getting worked up over. Even if I do feel like strangling people sometimes.”
Marcus makes a show of pulling out his phone. “Should I be recording this for evidence in your future trial?”
“As I’ve said before,” Neil shuts his eyes, “case in point.”
“I make things easier for you, too,” Shaun says, somewhat hesitantly.
“Very much,” Neil agrees. “One might say…things are better. For both of us.” He makes an attempt at lightening his voice. “So you better stick around.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Shaun says easily.
Marcus, with his uncanny ability to interrupt whenever Neil would like it the least, decides that’s the perfect time to chime in. “You better be going somewhere, Murphy. Namely, back out to all the people I’m sure are clamoring for an audience with you.” When he catches Neil’s wordless ‘What about me?’ gesture, he smirks, “And Melendez, of course…by association.”
“We’ll be back out there soon.” How many times does he have to say it before Marcus gets the hint? At this rate, Neil might actually have to do something drastic…like get up before he’s ready.
“Soon better mean soon.” Marcus points his phone at him, in some type of silent threat. “Not the ‘Neil Melendez’ version of soon that could be anywhere from twenty minutes to five hours from now.”
Neil wants to roll his eyes but Marcus would probably find a salad fork somewhere just to have the pleasure of stabbing him with it. “The ‘Shaun Murphy’ version of soon, alright?”
“Acceptable.” Marcus nods curtly. “Don’t make me send Morgan this way.”
Neil shudders. “Please don’t, I left my collection of crucifixes at home.”
Marcus abruptly laughs, unprepared for that, before quickly schooling his features into something marginally disapproving. “That is not kind.” (He doesn’t say it’s wrong, though, which means on some level he must agree that there’s a 75% chance she’s possessed by a demon.)
“Morgan is not possessed,” Shaun says, easily reading Neil’s mind, because they’ve had this conversation maybe half a dozen times.
“You can’t prove that,” Neil insists.
“Can’t prove what?” Morgan demands, appearing from nowhere (seriously, does she float out of walls? It has to be a demon thing). She’s trying to stare Shaun down, but it has little effect, as usual.
“Neil believes in the supernatural,” Shaun explains, as he looks up at her. “Rational people, like myself, do not.”
“Is this the ‘possession’ argument again?” she sniffs disdainfully, though her tone is definitely pleased. “I assure you, if I were possessed—”
“—you’d be kinder?” Neil interrupts, as Marcus badly fails at hiding his laughter and then cringes back in his seat when Morgan’s decidedly icy gaze lands on him. (Neil’s inwardly satisfied that Marcus seems to fear her more than anyone else does.)
“Be careful, Dr. Melendez.” She’s watching him in a way that makes him suppress a shiver. “You wouldn’t want to get on my bad side, would you?”
“You have a good side?” he shoots back, though there’s more levity in it than anything else.
That still doesn’t stop her from turning the full force of her glare on him. “I’ve been known to be…loving.” Her mouth twists in distaste at that last word.
“As if you don’t revel in knowing that people are afraid of you,” Neil scoffs. “I’m half-convinced you started the rumor about possession yourself.”
“You’ll never prove it,” she hums, in a mockery of pleasantness, and great, now she’s sitting down at their table, too.
“As entertaining as this discussion is,” Marcus interrupts, with heavy disapproval, “it’s taking precious time away from the reason we’re here this evening.”
“Making Melendez and Murphy suffer as much as possible?” Morgan asks sweetly, as she eyes Neil’s plate with interest.
“I thought that was your daily goal when it came to us, Reznick?” Neil bats her hand away when she reaches for his food.
“And how am I doing?” She beams at Shaun when he slides his own plate over to her, in silent indication she can have whatever she wants.
“Splendid,” Neil assures her, then turns to Shaun. “Careful—if you feed her, she’ll never leave us.”
“Maybe Shaun secretly wants me around forever,” she suggests, winking at her fellow resident. After giving that accusation some thought, Shaun reaches to take his plate back, but Morgan only pulls it further away from him. “Too late.”
“We’re here: To. Raise. Money!” Andrews yells the last word, causing both Shaun and Morgan to jump, but their boss isn’t angry—he’s oddly reinvigorated, and Neil’s just glad that his focus is mostly still on Morgan.
“Lest you forget,” Morgan says sharply, jerking her head in Neil and Shaun’s direction, “you assigned me to act as warden to these two. By the way, they’re setting off my perimeter alert again. They might be planning to make a break for it.”
“Then why don’t you stay here and make sure they start circulating again within the next, oh, five minutes?” Marcus’s eyes are bright as he gets to his feet, patting her on the shoulder.
She tips her glass in his direction. “I won’t let you down, sir.”
“Believe me,” Neil promises their boss, “we’ll be eager to get away from her long before those five minutes are up.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” he tells Neil distractedly, already waving at someone across the room as he walks away.
“Hey,” Morgan whines at the semi-insult, but within seconds, she’s preoccupied with something on her phone.
Neil can feel Shaun watching him and turns to shrug, a bit helplessly. “What can we do? These people are the hand we’ve been dealt.”
Morgan says something under her breath that Neil’s sure is insulting, but she doesn’t tear her eyes away from her phone.
Shaun, as usual, doesn’t seem annoyed at all (and how is that possible? Neil will never know). “I like these people,” Shaun says, voice as quiet as it is adamant.
“That makes one of us.”
Shaun isn’t fooled—he never will be when it comes to Neil. “That makes two of us.”
Neil doesn’t reply; he doesn’t have to. Even if Shaun weren’t aware of the truth, Neil’s obvious amusement would have given it away.
By silent agreement, they get to their feet and Neil surveys the room, trying to figure out who they should talk to next; he’s not too particular—anyone on the opposite side of the room from Marcus will do just fine. Shaun unnecessarily smooths down his shirt, and it must remind him of the tie he hates because he starts pulling at it again, and Neil can’t take it anymore.
“Get over here.”
Shaun moves forward without hesitation, into Neil’s space, and it’s only then that he asks, “Why?”
“I’ll show you a trick I learned over the years.” Neil reaches over to take hold of the fabric around Shaun’s neck.
Shaun must interpret that as an invitation to start complaining again. “I don’t like ties. They serve no purpose. I don’t like formal attire, either.”
“Is there anything you do like, Murphy?”
Instead of the joke Neil had meant it as, Shaun takes that question seriously. “I like helping people and saving lives. I like our hospital. Our friends.” He takes a step closer when Neil accidentally pulls overly hard on the tie. “I like you.”
Neil stills his hands as he searches Shaun’s face. “We have something in common, then.”
“We do?” The corners of Shaun’s mouth are already turning up, like he knows where this is going.
Neil leans in to whisper conspiratorially in Shaun’s ear, “I like me, too.”
Shaun laughter is quiet, sending a warmth through Neil that he’s starting to get used to whenever the younger man’s around. “And me,” Shaun adds. (It’s not a question.)
“Yes, Murphy. And you.” He forces himself to focus for long enough that he’s successful with the tie, pulling it up and over Shaun’s head.
“Your trick was to…remove it?”
“It’s foolproof, huh?” Neil sets it over the back of the chair he was just sitting in, on top of his suit jacket.
“Undressing each other in public, now?” Morgan tsks, causing Neil to blink as he looks over at her, still seated on the other side of the table. (How had he forgotten she was there?) She’s tilting her glass back and forth between them. “Have you two no shame?” When neither of them says anything, she adds, “Not that I judge. Please don’t feel like you have to stop on my account.”
“This is a formal event,” Shaun tells her, and the sudden change of subject makes little sense until his eyes fall on the tie Neil had set aside. “You once told me—”
“That was before I knew how things worked around here,” Morgan cuts him off. “Far be it from me to explain, but everyone loves you, Murphy. Everyone.” She’s laughing into her drink. “You could have shown up here in surgical scrubs and people would still be falling at your feet.”
“That would hardly be professional,” Shaun protests. “And people do not fall at my feet.”
“Sure they don’t.” For some reason, her sarcasm is accompanied by a long look in Neil’s direction.
Neil swears he spends half of his life trying to get people to leave him (and Shaun) alone. “Don’t you have an actual job to get back to?”
“You mean the one that doesn’t involve watching you like a hawk for the inevitable moment when you make a run for the exit?” She heaves a sigh, though it seems more for the fact that she’s finished the last of her drink, if the way she morosely tips the glass upside down is any indication. “I’ll go because I need a refill, anyways—but remember, I’m always here. Always watching. Even when you think I’m not.” With that ominous warning, she sets off across the room.
Shaun doesn’t speak until she’s out of sight. “Morgan is…”
“Unsettling,” Neil fills in. “Eerily so, much of the time. If we don’t want to deal with her—or Andrews—anytime soon, we should find some new donors to entertain.”
Shaun hesitates, then motions to himself and says, “Are you sure this attire is fine?”
“It’s fine,” Neil says firmly.
“Because you say so?”
“Now you’re getting it. Besides, I guarantee you no one will care. On the off-chance someone did care, their opinion wouldn’t be worth considering. Know whose opinion is the most important?”
Shaun breathes out in a way that might mean he’s humoring Neil. “Yours.”
“Exactly, Murphy. Mine.” It’s a necessary thing to point out, even if Neil’s half-kidding and Shaun knows as much. The truth is, it wouldn’t matter if anyone cared because no one would dare say anything to Shaun—and that’s because of Neil. (Which is exactly the way it should be.)
Instead of arguing further on the topic, Shaun just says, “I am sorry I almost ruined your tie.”
It takes Neil a few moments to remember the joke he’d made earlier and that Shaun is now apologizing as if he’d actually been serious.
“I will be more careful with your things in the future,” Shaun continues.
“You think that’s what I care about here?” He almost laughs. “My tie.” It might be a minor thing, but there’s something truly wrong with their world, in this moment, if Shaun believes that Neil’s most pressing concern is an item of clothing that he could replace a dozen times over.
“Yes,” Shaun’s answering his question, “why else would—”
“You,” Neil says, right over him. “I care about you.”
“Me,” Shaun says flatly, and it sounds like he’s unsure what Neil is getting at.
“Yes, you. I hate seeing you uncomfortable. In any way. It makes me unhappy, Shaun. You haven’t realized that by now?”
“I do realize that,” Shaun says, indicating the space between them. “It is why we are…”
Neil’s relieved that he’s not going to have to spell it out any further, because he’s running out of words and he doesn’t know where he’d go beyond this (but he’s guessing it’s that place where he’s not sure what’s appropriate, anymore). “You should never have worn it in the first place, I told you not to. But who ignored me and went off into a spiel about the history of men’s formal wear?”
“I should listen to you more often,” Shaun says, gravely.
“Because…?” he prompts.
“Because you think you know everything.”
Neil doesn’t miss the qualifier, but all he says is, “Maybe I do, Murphy.”
“Yes,” Shaun relents, moving closer to fix his tie (for the seventh time that evening). “Maybe you do.”
As annoyed as Neil is about having to go back to entertaining people, it doesn’t take him long to remember this isn’t a typical night at a typical gala. This isn’t just another in a long line of mostly indistinguishable events where he has to repeat his same pitch dozens of times, repeat an abridged biography of himself, and repeat the same patient stories, the ones that always work to pull on donors’ heartstrings and convince them that they actually are making a difference: “And this is how your contribution saves lives, one might call people like you the real heroes!” (Marcus had actually penned that line himself, and been extremely proud of it, too.)
Tonight is different because Shaun wouldn’t allow Neil to do any of that if he tried. And the best part is that with Shaun, he doesn’t have to. The atmosphere tonight feels much more like a party than a mandated work event. Their conversations flow easily, they don’t follow the Marcus Andrews' Strategies for Success template (yes, Marcus calls it that), and with Shaun’s lead, Neil’s easily drawn back into the world that he’s never wanted to be a part of, that he’s only ever tolerated as a facet of his job, and he’s starting to think…maybe things weren’t always as set in stone as he’d thought.
If he’s enjoying himself tonight, then maybe…he could enjoy other nights, too.
Maybe he could always enjoy this.
Though he’d also be the first to admit that his feelings depend heavily on the company he’s keeping tonight.
It’s not like everything goes smoothly, either. But together, he and Shaun are able to maneuver past obstacles which would be much more difficult to overcome alone. Like the time Shaun falters while relaying the story of a patient they’d had a few months prior, a young girl who’d lost her brother in a car accident she’d barely survived. Neil takes over the moment Shaun breaks off mid-sentence, squeezing his arm in quiet sympathy, and no one even notices that Shaun hadn’t been able to keep talking. That if Neil hadn’t stepped in, he would have remained there in silence until someone else decided to change the subject.
Not long after that, a late arrival who remembers Neil from past fundraisers, eagerly asks him where his lovely fiancée Jessica’s been hiding tonight. Neil stares at Delia…something (Shaun is the one who remembers everyone’s name) and his mind goes blank, because it’s been months since anyone asked him about Jess and how is he supposed to even begin to answer that? He’s entirely unprepared as a series of images flash across his mind—the last time he’d seen this woman, he and Jess had a lengthy conversation with her about their upcoming nuptials and how excited they were. This time, it’s Shaun who steps in, saving Neil from his temporary incoherence and explaining the change in his personal life before switching topics so swiftly that no awkwardness has time to manifest. (Neill knows that Shaun learned that trick from him—it’s one of Neil’s long-time favorites.)
He lets Shaun carry the subsequent conversation, pleased when Delia accepts the news in stride, and Neil basks in the sudden feeling of not being alone anymore. He doesn’t have to get through these things alone. And neither does Shaun.
Before tonight, he’d occasionally noted how well they complemented each other, but it was mostly in an abstract way. Now, though…it feels like something else. It feels different in a way Neil can’t categorize, or place.
It feels like they’re more, together, than either of them is alone.
After their conversation comes to an end, Delia draws Neil aside to congratulate him on his ‘new relationship’ (read: to pry, to unflinchingly pry) and he needs a few minutes to skillfully extricate himself from her thinly-veiled interrogation. When he turns in a semi-circle to see if Shaun has been abducted by Marcus or any other board members, he finds the younger man being accosted (for lack of a better term) by a young woman, a nurse Neil recognizes, though not by name. She’s newish, and had come along as the date of one of the oncologists Glassman currently has gathered across the room. She must be feeling unforgivably ignored by this recent turn of events, since she’s now fixated entirely on Shaun.
“You have to dance with me, Shaun. Please?” She’s all doe-eyes and long lashes and hopeful expression that’s having next to no effect on Shaun.
“I do not have to do anything,” Shaun informs her.
She issues a sigh, though Neil can tell by the glint in her eyes that she’s charmed by him. “I didn’t mean you literally have to, just that… I really want to?”
“No, thank you,” Shaun politely declines. In response, she takes hold of his arm and tugs lightly towards the dance floor; he tries to step away, but she won’t let go, still issuing pleas and seeming not to notice the growing tension in every line of her would-be partner’s body. Neil sees it, though. (He thinks he sees almost everything when it comes to Shaun, now.)
It takes Neil all of three seconds to assess the situation: the girl’s new enough that she must be unaware of Shaun’s aversion to touching people, and she’s currently oblivious to his discomfort (maybe partly due to having had a few drinks). For his part, Shaun is reluctant to forcefully break her grip and potentially cause a scene. He’s told Neil on more than one occasion that people tend to react badly when he physically pushes them away. Shaun’s favored strategy nowadays is to calmly explain his preferences, which gets people to back off fairly quickly. And maybe that would work right now, too, except the nurse isn’t letting him get a word in edgewise through her continued badgering.
Over the past year of working at their hospital, Shaun’s become more tolerant of people unknowingly encroaching upon (or stepping over) his boundaries. He still hates it, and always will, but he recognizes that other people don’t view the world the same as he does. Neil, however, does not share Shaun’s level of tolerance when people infringe upon his resident’s personal space, because anything that makes Shaun uncomfortable tends to infuriate Neil, and that issue has only gotten worse for him over the past year, not better.
He steps up beside Shaun with the kind of silence he associates with Shaun himself. (Truly, his resident’s like a phantom sometimes—there have been numerous instances where Neil has been in conversation with him only to get distracted for a moment, and he’ll turn back to find Shaun’s vanished without a word.)
The girl’s still begging and Shaun’s repeatedly declining, though Neil can tell by the escalating volume of his tone that Shaun’s either moments away from snapping at the girl, or saying something she won’t appreciate (maybe both at the same time).
Neil deliberately places a hand on the back of Shaun’s neck and talks right over her latest round of pleas. “Careful,” he warns. His tone is intentionally light, but there’s an undercurrent to it that reveals he’s far from happy. “I might think you’re trying to steal him away.”
Shaun presses back into Neil’s hand, rolling his shoulders and turning to look at him without speaking—and Neil doesn’t need him to. Shaun’s appreciation is clear in the way he settles, breathing easier, and the annoyance clears from his expression, replaced with the beginning of a smile.
The nurse is staring at Neil like she’d forgotten he existed. “Dr. Melendez, I was…asking Shaun for a dance.”
“You were not asking,” Shaun corrects, as she seems chagrined. “You were demanding.”
Neil lets his eyes fall on her hand, which even Shaun seems to have forgotten is still on his arm. She notices what he’s looking at and wrenches herself away from Shaun as if he’s suddenly caught fire, punctuating the action by taking a couple steps back.
“I do not like dancing,” Shaun’s explaining to her. “I will occasionally tolerate it. But I do not enjoy it.”
The girl fidgets nervously, seeming unsure what to do with herself now that Neil’s here, and she finally folds her hands and says sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I…didn’t know.”
“Now you do,” Shaun says simply. Like magic, all his earlier irritation has vanished, as if it never existed at all.
Upon reminding himself of Shaun’s aggravation from only moments before, Neil reflexively tightens his hold on Shaun’s neck, inhaling slowly and trying to understand how Shaun can be this way, so kind in the face of his own discomfort. It’s obvious the girl had meant no ill will and had no clue she was making Shaun uncomfortable, but most importantly, Shaun is aware of that. After all, it’s the kind of thing he’s been dealing with his entire life—and he lets it go as easily as Neil would normally hold a grudge (which is infinitely longer on Shaun’s behalf than on his own, or anyone else’s).
The three of them have ended up in some kind of stalemate as the girl shifts her eyes back and forth between them and Neil takes pity on her, forcing himself to smile and lift his chin to send her back to her friends (who have, obviously, been watching from across the room with rapt attention).
He could (should) probably let Shaun go when the girl flees, but he doesn’t. All he does is rub his thumb along the back of Shaun’s neck instead.
“Elsie is a good person and an excellent nurse.” Shaun’s watching her, over near the bar, where she’s buried her head in one of her friend’s shoulders; Neil has no idea why Shaun’s espousing her virtues until he adds, with some emphasis, “She did not know how I feel about dancing. You should not be upset.”
“I’m not upset.” Neil has no idea why he bothers lying when they’re both aware of it…but he’ll keep doing it anyways. “You told her how you felt. Many times. And she obviously knows about us, from her reaction.” (Like usual, his mind does its normal disconnect when he thinks about what his real relationship with Shaun is versus what everyone else thinks it is.)
“She’s had too much to drink.” Shaun sounds faintly judgemental at that, and Neil can’t deny he’s amused at the perfect timing when they glance back at the group of nurses just in time to witness someone push a fresh drink into Elsie’s hands. Shaun turns more into him, carefully not breaking their contact (because Neil still hasn’t dropped his hand, how about that?). “I am fine.”
“Sorry that I got distracted. Delia wanted to ask me about Jess and…” you. He counts to three on an exhale and reminds himself that this is one of those times when he shouldn’t overreact, but it’s always exponentially harder for him to remain calm when someone causes Shaun any type of distress.
“It is not your fault,” Shaun (too easily) forgives. “And it is not your job to protect me.”
Neil (vehemently) disagrees with that. “It is.” When Shaun doesn’t respond, he repeats, “It is. You have made tonight…” He doesn’t think he could adequately describe it in a way Shaun would understand since Neil himself doesn’t even fully understand it. He settles for, “I have never been able to enjoy myself at one of these events and yet, with you…I can. So the least I can do is try and make sure that’s true for you, as well.”
“People love me,” Shaun hums. “You cannot help that.” From anyone else, it would have sounded like self-congratulations, but Shaun’s simply stating what he knows to be fact.
“They do,” Neil agrees, finally letting his hand fall away; Shaun must not appreciate it since he leans into Neil’s side in response. “I can’t fault them for it, either.”
“No,” Shaun pleasantly agrees, “you can’t.”
They lapse into silence as they both turn toward the dance floor. It’s more crowded right now than it’s been all evening, and it’s also occupied by many of their closest colleagues: Aaron and Jessica are dancing (and appear to be deep in an emotional conversation); Marcus and his wife are near them (and Neil can’t believe Marcus has temporarily torn himself away from the donors—but for all his faults, he does love his wife…so maybe it’s not entirely surprising); and Morgan and Park are out there, too, laughing about something. Neil actually does a double take—not that they’re dancing, but that he doesn’t think he’s seen Alex show that much emotion in the past year.
He points them out to Shaun. “You think Reznick cast some kind of spell on him? What else could explain it?”
“They are friends?”
“No,” Neil mutters, “that can’t be it. It has to be some kind of black magic.”
Shaun doesn’t seem half as interested in his colleagues as Neil. “Dancing involves…a lot of touching,” he murmurs, a full-body shudder accompanying that statement.
“It does.” Neil nudges his arm against Shaun’s, finding a distant sort of humor in the fact that they’re touching right now and Shaun has no objection to it. “You know, Murphy,” he says archly, “some might argue that being close to someone is the entire point of dancing.”
“It is probably one of the reasons people enjoy it,” Shaun says, like he’s the first person to ever concede that reason as a possibility. “There are many theories as to why dancing developed among humans, but it’s impossible to pin down its origins with any concrete certainty. The likelihood is that it served a number of different purposes and evolved simultaneously across various cultures and groups.”
“Are you going to educate me on the history of dancing across different social eras?”
“I am not that well-versed in it,” Shaun admits. “I never read extensively about the subject because it did not interest me. I will have to correct that.”
“You do that,” Neil says, and it’s not at all sarcastic—he’s looking forward to hearing what Shaun learns.
For someone who hates dancing because it involves too much touching, Neil absently thinks that Shaun has touched him more tonight—and for a much longer period of time—than a few dances with someone would ever cost him. But he very pointedly does not say such a thing. He never wants Shaun to feel self-conscious about their friendship or about how comfortable he is with Neil. The mere idea of Shaun second-guessing himself, questioning his innate trust in Neil, or deliberately pulling away when he starts to reach for him…it’s close to unbearable.
Shaun can lean on him whenever he wants. Literally or figuratively. (For any reason.)
And Neil’s going to do everything in his power to ensure that never changes.
Chapter 6
Notes:
Maybe I should just stop leaving notes altogether, because I never turn out to be right. Here's my new one: there will now be 4 chapters of this gala-that's-never-going-to-end, because I've had too much fun with it. So this is part 3, and there will be a part 4. And that should be it for this arc...but who ever knows? (Certainly not me, that much is clear!)
As always, your feedback means the world to me! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story and it is wonderful to hear from people who are enjoying reading it! <3
Chapter Text
Shaun’s playing with the cufflinks on his shirt again.
Neil’s been watching him do it on and off throughout the whole evening, but it’s become close to non-stop in the past ten minutes.
It’s not done unthinkingly, or out of boredom. It’s not a nervous habit, either. No, Shaun’s doing it for one reason: he’s agitated about something, and it’s manifesting in the repeated unfastening and refastening of his cufflinks.
It’s distracting enough that Neil’s lost track of the conversation around them. At this point, he doesn’t care about trying to pick it up again, either (even though he knows he probably should). He’s standing across from Shaun in a circle of (as Marcus would call them) ‘prestigious’ people. Glassman’s there, talking about where all their new funding will go, and there are a few other hospital administrators, and the mayor and her husband. The last two are the most important in their group: not only do they contribute significantly to Saint Bonaventure every year, but the mayor’s favor is crucial for a variety of reasons that benefit them, including partnership on community outreach programs. The short of it is, their hospital can implement the programs they want without her, but her office’s assistance is critical to getting anything done in an expedient manner.
To their luck, she happens to love all of them (Neil and Shaun, in particular). They all share similar backgrounds because she’d originally been on a career track of medicine before changing her mind and turning to politics; as such, she loves to discuss cases with them. It’s convenient because it means conversation with her is easy and Neil can do it mostly on autopilot, but it’s difficult in that she always wants to spend excessive amounts of time with them whenever they’re at an event together.
It happens to be particularly difficult right now because Neil knows his distraction is coming across as irritation, or perhaps even disinterest. And despite knowing that, he can’t help it. Shaun just won’t stop with those cufflinks and it’s ratcheting up Neil’s concern. He’s not about to ask him what’s wrong in the middle of a group conversation, either (and especially not when he has a pretty good idea of what it is).
They’ve been at the gala for close to three hours now and their length of time in attendance has had a direct effect on Shaun’s level of comfort: the longer they stay, the harder it is for Shaun to suppress, or ignore, his discomfort with their surroundings. Neil can feel his own nerves starting to grate after dealing with people all night long, so he imagines what Shaun’s going through is significantly worse.
Sure, they’ve managed to take a few breaks, finding quieter areas of the room to escape the immediate crowd, but there’s been no real respite from all the people, all the demands—and that damned holiday music. Shortly after they arrived, the light classical in the background (that was easy to ignore) had been switched to ‘holiday favorites’ and Neil swears it’s been the same four songs on repeat for the last two hours.
Because the universe can read his mind (and has a twisted sense of humor) Morgan joins their group, quietly humming along to ‘Winter Wonderland’. When Neil only stares at her, she asks innocently, “Don’t you just love this music?”
He won’t even dignify that with a response (seeing as she’s heard him complain about this almost daily since November 1st, which was when half the radio stations in their area switched over to ‘All Christmas, all the time!’ playlists). “It was you, wasn’t it?” he accuses. “You broke into the sound room and changed the music.”
“I might have slipped one of the staff a $20,” she smirks. “After all, what’s a holiday gala without holiday music?” She takes a slow sip of her drink, then adds (just to provoke him), “I’ve heard no complaints…from anyone else.”
“Why does every song need to have so many bells? Who made bells such an important element of Christmas music?”
“Why don’t you ask our resident genius?” she suggests, and there’s nothing except sincerity in her question. “I’m sure he knows.”
Neil’s gaze automatically returns to Shaun; he hates that he can’t reach out and touch him, but he’s too far away and there are people standing closely to either side of him—going over there would not only interrupt the conversation, but he’d have to either move Shaun or someone else to talk to him. (And despite how it’d inconvenience people, he’s about thirty seconds from doing it anyways, if Shaun doesn’t—or can’t—stop.)
The conversation about funding is still ongoing, but Shaun’s not participating; he’s switched to pulling at the edge of his shirtsleeves, and Neil’s no longer the only one who notices. Aaron trips over his own words, mid-sentence, when his eyes pass over Shaun. That alone tells Neil that he recognizes Shaun’s discomfort as readily as Neil has.
“—don’t you agree, Neil?” he catches from Davis, one of the administrators a few rungs down from Aaron.
Neil’s completely lost, and he glances briefly at Aaron, who minutely shakes his head; Neil trusts him implicitly enough that he doesn’t question it. “No, I don’t happen to agree.”
His answer sparks an eruption from almost everyone in the group and Shaun winces as people start talking over each other to argue their sides of an issue that Neil’s still ignoring (though now it’s on purpose). The momentary chaos is the opportunity Neil was hoping for and he crosses the circle, placing a hand over Shaun’s where he’s about to unfasten a cufflink.
Neil doesn’t even have to lower his voice due to the increasing volume of everyone around them as each side gets more passionate. “Can I talk to you? Alone?”
“Yes,” Shaun says instantly, relief flashing across his face. “Let’s go somewhere else. Anywhere else.”
They head for the main doors of the ballroom, and the moment they cross into the hall, the noise dims considerably. There are still plenty of people around, though, and it’s nowhere near as secluded as Neil wants. Shaun’s watching him expectantly, but instead of saying anything, Neil motions them toward the elevators.
They get in along with two middle-aged women and a young man dressed in a hotel uniform, and it turns out they’re all heading for the top floor. Shaun’s still tense, but already seems less on edge than he was a few minutes before.
“Did you know this hotel has a rooftop restaurant and lounge?” Neil asks him.
“Yes, I knew. It’s lined with glass walls which provide a 360 degree view of the city. There is also an observation deck, which is separate from the restaurant itself.” At Neil’s silent question, he explains, “I read about the hotel when Dr. Andrews suggested we do so at the last staff meeting. The hospital has reserved a block of rooms here for anyone who chooses to stay overnight instead of going home.”
Neil has no recollection of anything Shaun’s talking about. “Did I attend that staff meeting?”
Shaun breathes out lightly in a show of amusement. “Yes. You were sitting next to me.”
“Oh sure,” Neil returns dryly, “that helps.” (He tends to always sit next to Shaun because he’s found it lessens his urge to tear his hair out from sheer frustration and boredom.)
“You were late, although I’m sure that does not help you differentiate between meetings, either.”
Neil tries to send him a scolding look, but he can’t really pull it off because Shaun’s simply stating facts. Staff meetings are among Neil’s least favorite things and when he knows they’re going to be about the usual monthly issues, and nothing directly to do with him, he tends to show up…on his own time. (To Marcus’s never-ending vexation—which only gives Neil more incentive to continue doing it.)
The elevator doors open into the main lobby of the restaurant with a quiet chime. The staff member and the two women turn left, towards the hostess stand, and Neil can see most of the restaurant laid out beyond it in a fairly open floor-plan. It’s pretty crowded for this late on a Saturday evening, but this is a popular hotel that’s usually fully-booked, especially when events are going on around the city. Neil even recognizes some of the people at the closest tables as attendees of their gala. They must have been looking for an actual meal, or perhaps they just wanted to get away from the crowd downstairs. (Rather than thinning out as the night went on, Neil swore the ballroom only got more crowded, and he suspects some of the hotel’s other guests had snuck in to crash their fundraiser and take advantage of the free food and drinks.)
The restaurant takes up three-quarters of the roof level, and the final quarter is an open-air observation deck that overlooks the city. Instead of following their elevator companions, Neil gestures Shaun towards the deck, which is behind floor-to-ceiling glass windows on their right.
“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Neil asks, as he pulls open one of the doors.
Shaun stops in the doorway. “It’s illogical to be afraid of heights if you are not at risk of falling.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes,” Shaun counters, “it is.”
“You could have just said no, Murphy.”
After a long pause, Shaun admits, “I could have.”
“You do this on purpose, right? Tell me it’s on purpose.” His tone’s more than lighthearted because they both know it’s true.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shaun still tries to claim. Neil motions for him to keep walking, and they finally make it outside, effectively ending their argument-that’s-not-quite-an-argument.
Despite having been to this hotel for a few functions in the past, Neil has never made it up here, and now he’s realizing that he’d missed out. It’s a mild evening for mid-December—one of the best perks of living in California. Several comfortable-looking lounge areas are set up around the spacious balcony, secluded from each other by tastefully arranged plants and partitions highlighted by strands of warm orange lights. (And perhaps the best part, in Neil’s opinion? Aside from the two of them, the balcony’s completely deserted.)
The seating areas don’t hold their interest for more than a few seconds, since their attention is automatically drawn to the breathtaking view of the city at night. Shaun must have been telling the truth about his lack of fear, since he heads straight for the ornate, chest-high railing across from them in order to take in all he can of San Jose. Neil knows that Shaun’s probably never seen it from this perspective before; they’ve both seen their city from the roof of the hospital, but the Ritz-Carlton goes up at least twenty floors higher than that, and it’s one of the tallest buildings in this part of the city.
Neil joins Shaun at the railing, and neither of them speaks as they survey the colorful lights of the buildings, the streaks of red and white from cars driving down below, and the rolling hills they can barely make out in the distance beyond civilization. The glass walls behind them are soundproof, so there’s no hum of noise from the restaurant, and they’re up high enough that the city below is mostly muted. The loudest sounds are the occasional light gusts of wind whistling along the edges of the building.
It’s another minute before Neil glances over at Shaun, who’s holding the railing next to him, and he’s surprised to find the younger man’s eyes are shut.
Maybe he can sense Neil watching him (or maybe not), but that’s when Shaun breathes, “It’s quiet.” His words are almost carried away by the wind; Neil only hears him because they’re so close.
“It is.” He instinctively leans closer to Shaun, though they aren’t touching. “Inside, when you were…” He lets the sentence fade, brushing a finger over one of Shaun’s cufflinks. “After a while…it’s too much, isn’t it?”
Shaun’s silent for maybe half a minute before he opens his eyes and turns to Neil. “Yes,” he says simply. “The answer to that question is always yes.”
Neil feels his stomach clench in guilt and empathy and hatred of the fact that no matter what he does, he can never fully take that away. “I’m sorry.”
“It is not your fault.” Shaun looks back out over the city. “It’s not anyone’s fault. I’m used to it, but sometimes I still need to be…away from other people. Away from everyone.”
Neil shifts his weight from one foot to the other and wonders if that’s Shaun’s roundabout way of making a request. “If you want… I could go back?” He takes a step toward the doors. “Leave you alone for a little while?”
Shaun turns his head so fast that it looks like it hurts. “Why?”
“You just said you want to be away from everyone.”
“You are not ‘everyone’.”
“I’m part of ‘everyone’,” Neil points out.
“No,” Shaun says, harshly enough that Neil’s taken aback, “you are not.” As if there’s any doubt about his vehement dislike of Neil’s offer to leave, he adds, “Stay.”
“Okay,” Neil holds up his hands in acquiescence, “I’ll stay. If that’s what you want.”
“That is always what I want,” Shaun promises, bringing both hands up to rub at the sides of his neck. “Tonight has been easier than other nights, but as you guessed…as you know, it eventually becomes overwhelming.”
“You could have told me it was getting more difficult for you,” Neil says, unable to hide the regret in his voice. “I could have…I don’t know. Made sure you had a real break. Like now.” He’s moving from frustrated to angry, but it’s not at Shaun, it’s at himself. “Or I could have brought you home.”
“We have to stay until 11.”
“We could have gone home,” Neil repeats.
“Dr. Andrews—”
“Does not get to dictate our lives, despite what he believes. If you wanted—if you want to go home, right now, then we’ll leave.”
Shaun doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. “He would be angry.”
“Where have you been for the past year, Murphy? It’s practically my favorite hobby to make him angry.” He pushes his shoulder against Shaun’s. “It’d be a perk of leaving, to be honest.”
That earns Neil his first smile from Shaun since they stepped onto the observation deck, and then his resident declares, “I want to stay.”
“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that because of Andrews?”
Shaun appears to give that some serious thought. “I want to be here. We’ve already raised a lot of money that will save many lives, but there are still some donors I wish to talk to.” After another gust of wind, he takes a deep breath of the mild evening air. “In a few minutes, I’ll be ready to go back.”
“Okay,” Neil says, taking him at his word. He turns around, leaning his back against the railing, and watches as Shaun shuts his eyes again. It’s fascinating to watch the younger man visibly relax from something as simple as this. All he needed was distance from everyone else. And silence.
And Neil, apparently.
The more at ease Shaun becomes, the more Neil feels his own tension uncoil…though the guilt remains. He should have known. He’d mistakenly let Shaun’s outward act lull him into thinking everything was fine, which is the exact same mistake their friends and colleagues make all the time. But Shaun can only take counteractive measures for so long before everything catches up to him, especially when the demands are unending and he never gets a chance to recover.
Shaun will often step away when he most needs to, but he’s always more reluctant at these gatherings because of how much pressure there is on all of them to perform to the best of their abilities—to impress Aaron and Marcus and the board and their donors. So Shaun will push himself as hard as everyone else, but he’s not everyone else. What comes easily for most doesn’t come easily for him, and Neil knows that. He should have been looking out for it—especially when he knows his resident often gets so caught up in making everyone else happy that he puts his own needs last.
“It’s better out here,” Shaun murmurs, breaking through Neil’s self-recrimination. “I like when it’s quiet.”
“The lack of repetitive Christmas music is certainly a benefit.” Neil tips his head back to look up at the night sky. There’s a bright crescent moon, but no stars are visible because of the light from the city.
Shaun folds his arms along the railing and leans slightly over to stare down at the city streets below. And his next words jar Neil into awareness.
“I hated where I grew up.”
He doesn’t have to say it’s where his father lived.
“And I hated where Steve and I ran away to.”
He doesn’t have to say it’s where his brother died.
“I didn’t hate Casper, the people were kind to me and I had friends there, but it felt…temporary. I knew I wasn’t going to stay.” He pauses for a moment, maybe remembering everything he’d had to get through to end up where he is today. “No place I lived ever felt like home. Not until San Jose.”
Neil rubs a hand over his throat, wondering at the way it aches. “Aaron’s here, and he’s the closest person in your life. It makes sense you’d view this city, where he lives, as home.”
“He is one reason of many,” Shaun agrees, before stressing, “but not the only one.”
“Dare I ask the others?”
“Every friend I have is another reason. You. Claire. Lea. Alex. Mor–”
“Hold it right there,” Neil interrupts. “I think you were about to mistakenly say ‘Morgan’.”
“We’re friends,” Shaun insists, “even if she likes to pretend she has none.”
“If you say so,” Neil relents, because he can’t deny that they’ve all been getting along better lately (even if their interactions are almost always colored by her trademark brand of antagonism).
Shaun turns his attention back to the dark horizon. “I love this city and I never want to leave it.”
“I don’t think it’s the city that you don’t want to leave,” Neil tells him. “I think it’s the people.”
Shaun doesn’t hesitate. “You’re right.”
“One of my favorite phrases, Murphy. Good thing I’m right so often—I get to hear it a lot.”
Shaun doesn’t respond to that, but he’s smiling, and that’s really all Neil had been going for. (It might be all he’s ever going for, to be honest.)
Their conversation lapses just as Neil feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. He knows who it is before he checks the screen—Andrews, demanding to know where he and Shaun are (in all capital letters because Marcus knows how to be as obnoxious as possible, even in texts). Neil doesn’t reply, shoving the phone back in his pocket and ignoring when it starts vibrating again. Their boss is probably calling him now. (Or else he’s recruited some of the others to start doing the same, hoping that Neil will answer if he sees it’s not Marcus.)
“He wants us back,” Shaun says, correctly determining who it is just from Neil’s reaction.
“He does, but he’s not getting us. Not yet.” The unspoken vow is that they aren’t going anywhere until Shaun decides that he’s ready to return.
Shaun studies him for a moment. “Thank you.”
“For ignoring Marcus’s texts and calls?” Neil shrugs him off. “You know I do that every day.”
“No, not for that.” The gravity of Shaun’s expression doesn’t change. “For everything. Thank you for everything.” The way he says it, like it’s something Neil should have already known, gives him pause.
“You don’t—”
“Do not tell me I don’t have to,” Shaun interrupts, his frustration rising so quickly that Neil almost moves back. “You always say that. Let me thank you. I want to.”
If he’d known how much his protests bothered Shaun, he would have made them a lot less frequently. “Alright,” Neil easily agrees, holding his arms out in silent invitation. “You have blanket permission to thank me whenever you want, for anything you want.”
Shaun nods, appeased. “Thank you.”
Neil tries to refrain from commenting, but…he just can’t. “Are you thanking me for ‘everything’? Or are you thanking me for the permission to thank me…for everything?”
It takes Shaun a few seconds to work that out and now he’s valiantly trying to keep a straight face. “I think I might rescind my ‘thank you’.”
“Nope, too late. Already said it, you can’t take it back.”
Shaun loses the fight against his smile. “That’s okay, because I meant it. Some events are worse than others. This has not been one of them.” His words take a more serious turn. “That is because of you.”
“I tried,” Neil responds, somehow managing to keep his tone light (he truly has no idea how he pulls it off). “Do you know how difficult it is to keep people from bothering you? You’re really popular.”
“So are you.”
“That goes without saying, but I have decades of experience avoiding people.”
“I suppose I will have to practice,” Shaun says, voice equally as light, and it makes Neil think about something he’s been meaning to bring up for a few weeks.
“Shaun, you’re still…in favor of this, right? Letting people think we’re in a relationship?” He’s not sure if it’s his imagination that Shaun tenses slightly.
“I have told you that I like what we’re doing.” Shaun’s gripping the railing tighter now (so no, it’s not Neil’s imagination). “Many times.”
“I know, but you can like the benefits of it while…not wanting to do this anymore. I mean, we’re going to stop this at some point, right? So whenever you’re done, for any reason, just let me know.”
“Any reason,” Shaun echoes, staring down at the railing, or maybe his hands that are wrapped around it.
Neil has no idea if Shaun’s emphasizing the point, or if he’s asking for examples, so he decides to offer some, just in case. “Yes, any reason. Like if you’re sick of keeping up the pretense. Or…if you meet someone you actually want to date. We’ve been doing this for almost four months, and I know when we started, there was no one you wanted to pursue a relationship with. But you’ve met plenty of new people since then, even just tonight. So if you have considered dating someone…” He trails off, figuring he’s driven that point home enough.
Even though Shaun appears disengaged from the conversation, Neil can tell by his stance that he’s listening closely. Then he realizes he might have given Shaun the wrong impression about ‘needing’ a reason.
“You don’t even have to tell me why, or have some excuse for it,” Neil clarifies. “Wanting to stop because you want to stop is perfectly fine—all you have to do is tell me. What I’m getting at is that I wouldn’t be upset. I know we agreed to this because it benefited both of us, in different ways, so I want to make sure you’re not still doing it…just for me, because we’re friends and you think it’s what I want. You should want it, too.”
Shaun doesn’t say anything to that, and he doesn’t look away from the city lights, either. Neil’s starting to think he might have said something he shouldn’t have, but he replays his words and can’t find anything wrong with them—although that doesn’t mean he’d wanted to say any of it. In fact, the mere idea of Shaun telling him he wants to end this is making Neil feel distinctly unwell.
They spend a lot of their free time with each other and that’s only become more true over the past few months. So if Shaun does want to stop doing this, their time together will inevitably decrease. And if Shaun wanted to date someone? At that point, he and Neil might stop seeing each other outside of work, altogether. Shaun’s not the type to deliberately cut people out of his life, but it tends to naturally happen when people start new relationships. (Hell, look at the two of them, they aren’t even really together and they already monopolize each other’s time.)
Once Neil hits upon the thought of Shaun being in another relationship, it’s like he can’t let go of it. Because it would spread to every part of his life—take tonight, for example. Shaun would obviously want to attend functions like this with his significant other, and that means Neil would be…on his own again. He’d have to be somewhere else, somewhere away from Shaun. Because he couldn’t very well hover around him—well, he could, but it’d seem overbearing and inappropriate. (Alright, it might not just seem like it, it would be.)
And that’s what bothers Neil the most: that he wouldn’t be there. Not just at work events, but in general. He’d no longer get to spend time with Shaun, who’s become one of his favorite people; he challenges Neil at every turn and makes him better in a myriad of ways. And he’s the one person Neil feels like he can truly be himself with, lately.
But more than that, Neil’s main reason always comes back to Shaun. He wouldn’t be there if Shaun needed something. If Shaun needed him. Because even if Shaun had someone else in his life, how could that person ever know him as well as Neil does? Or read him as well as Neil does?
Who else could see the things Shaun tries to hide, or hear the things he doesn’t say? Who could ever —
“Are you asking because there is someone you wish to date?” Shaun’s question snaps Neil out of his spiraling thoughts, and he’s momentarily grateful—but then he registers the wrong conclusion and almost recoils.
“No,” he says, probably too harshly, “there isn’t.” He takes a steadying breath, wondering why this conversation seems more serious, more important, than any of the ones he’s had over the course of his real romantic relationships. “I’m only reminding you that you can change your mind about this at any time. And no matter what—even if you wanted to date someone—our friendship wouldn’t have to change. Not if you don’t want it to.” Though Neil knows it would. It would. (How could it not, if he had to let Shaun go?)
“There is no one else.”
Neil lets out the breath he was holding, but he’s still not completely at ease, because Shaun’s answer speaks nothing to his desire (or lack thereof) to keep pretending they’re in a relationship. (Neil won’t feel like the matter is settled until Shaun reassures him, outright.) “So you still want to do this?”
Instead of answering him, Shaun asks, “Why do you think I would not?”
Neil’s not sure if he can articulate it that well…but he’ll try. “Because we haven’t talked about it in weeks, and I didn’t know if you were as happy with things as you were before. Like I said, I never want you to do anything because you think it’s what I want. Because you think doing this, keeping up this pretense, makes me happy.”
“Does it, though?” Shaun tilts his head in inquiry. “Does this make you happy?”
Neil’s a little surprised at the directness of the question, framed in such a simple way that it’s odd he hasn’t considered it in those terms before. But there’s no question when it comes to his honest answer. “Yes, it does. Everything about our relationship makes me happy, Shaun. The ease with which we work together, and how close we’ve become as friends, and yes, even the fact that people think we’re romantically together—because that helps both of us. But mostly I like that last part because it helps you—that’s what’s most important to me.”
Shaun has an unusual ability to detect exactly what Neil’s looking for, sometimes, and right now he must sense that Neil needs to hear him say the words. “I want this to continue,” he says steadily. “I will tell you if I ever change my mind.”
An unexpected (and dizzying) wave of relief crashes over Neil upon hearing that, and he reflexively takes hold of the railing behind him. “You—” He replays one particular word Shaun had slipped in there. “If?”
“Earlier, you pointed out that we’re going to end this someday.” Shaun taps his fingers against the railing as he faces their city again. “But maybe I’ll never want to.”
Shaun’s sentiment is lighthearted, and Neil finds himself smiling in return. “What about me, hmm?” He makes sure to match Shaun’s tone. “Don’t I get a say?”
“No.” Shaun doesn’t turn back to him, but Neil hears the humor in his voice. “You don’t.”
Shaun says it jokingly, but Neil has the fleeting thought that even if he were being serious…it wouldn’t matter. Because honestly? Neil’s come to the realization that he doesn’t want to end this, and he can’t picture changing his mind about that anytime in the near (or distant) future. Before, he had no interest in dating anyone, but now he has an actual aversion to the very idea. (It’s a feeling which has only gotten stronger over time.)
After he and Jessica broke off their engagement, he hadn’t wanted any quick rebounds or flings—that kind of thing never held much appeal to him. The thought of dating again held no enjoyment for him, either—not after the pain of their break-up. He’d figured he would slowly recover, that he’d eventually want to get back into the dating world after enough time had passed. (Or, at the very least, he’d find the idea of dating less objectionable.)
It’s strange for Neil to realize that this thing with Shaun has had the opposite effect on him, and he knows the major reason for that is related to his thoughts from earlier: just as Shaun would spend time with someone else if he began a new relationship, Neil would be expected to do the same if he began dating someone. The last thing he wants is to sacrifice their friendship for some hypothetical relationship with a person who’s not nearly as important to him…who probably could never be as important to him as Shaun. (He’s conveniently ignoring that the whole purpose of dating is to see if he could care for someone in that way again, because he just…doesn’t want anything to do with it.)
“Alright,” Neil theatrically laments, “I guess I can keep up the pretense of our relationship for the foreseeable future.” He turns back around so he and Shaun are facing the same direction again, looking out over San Jose. “Until you decide to let me go, of course.”
Shaun hums in some kind of agreement and even though there isn’t much space between them, maybe it’s too much, from the way his resident inches closer. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Neil whispers, not wanting to break the tranquil spell they’ve found themselves under.
Shaun relinquishes the railing so he can rub his eyes, abruptly reminding Neil of how long they’ve both been awake (and when Shaun leans into his side, it only confirms how tired he must be). It’s not 11 yet, but it’s getting close, and Neil wonders how soon after that predetermined time he’ll be able to get Shaun to leave.
His phone starts vibrating again, but he determinedly ignores it. It’s peaceful out here, and still as quiet as when they first arrived (no one else has come out onto the deck), and Shaun’s presence is warm—not just physically, Neil feels it everywhere.
A part of him (that he really should ignore) is telling him that they never have to return to the gala—he could stay out here, with Shaun, for the rest of the night.
A sudden burst of cold crosses Neil’s skin and he shivers, wondering if it was some kind of sharp wind gust. But it hadn’t seemed like one, and Shaun hadn’t reacted, either. “Did you feel that?” he murmurs.
“What?”
“It felt like some kind of dark, ominous—”
“Well, well, well.”
“—chill,” he finishes dryly, suppressing his sigh upon hearing Morgan behind them.
“Someone’s screening his calls,” she tells Neil, as she crosses the balcony and rests her elbows on the railing, situating herself on the other side of Shaun. “It’s very passive aggressive of you.”
“You did not call me,” Shaun points out, as he pulls away from Neil so he can face her.
“I knew you wouldn’t pick up. With Dr. Melendez, I still had some mild hope. Though I see I was wrong.”
“How’d you know where we were?” Neil asks, suspiciously. He checks his phone, and sure enough, there are three missed calls from Marcus and two from Morgan.
“Are you questioning my superior detective skills?” She brushes some hair behind her ear when the mild breeze pushes it across her face. “Alex has been giving me pointers on how to track down perps.”
“Oh God, you’re even talking like him—I can’t decide which one of you is a worse influence on the other.”
She laughs lightly at that. “He’s going to be so annoyed that I won—he bet I couldn’t find you in under five minutes,” she takes her phone out of her clutch to check the time, “and it’s been less than four.”
Neil thinks he’s probably doing something wrong in his perpetual quest to avoid people if Morgan found them that easily. (Or maybe Park’s just an exceptional teacher.) “What’s he going to owe you?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” She’s texting someone (presumably Park to gloat about her win, if her triumphant smile is any indication). “I think I’ll make him take me to dinner. An expensive dinner.”
“Forcing him to spend an evening with you?” Neil infuses his voice with as much sympathy for Park as he possibly can. “That’s a harsh punishment for losing a bet, Reznick.”
She glances up from her phone just to send him an idle glare. “My company is delightful, Melendez.”
Shaun opens his mouth to speak, but when Morgan instantly switches her laser focus over to him, he must think better of it, since he ultimately says nothing.
Despite himself, Neil’s actually curious about her methods. “Okay, I’ll bite. How’d you find us so fast in a hotel this size?”
She presses send on a final message, then slips her phone back in her clutch. “Truthfully? Don’t tell Alex, but it wasn’t that difficult. I just asked a few people in the lobby if they’d seen the most obnoxiously in love couple at our gala, and everyone pointed me toward the elevators.”
It doesn’t even sound like she’s joking. “Really?”
“Really. And since neither of you booked a room—” At Neil’s wordless expression of ‘How could you possibly know that?’ she explains, “I checked with the front desk.”
“Guess I’m only staying at hotels under aliases now,” he mutters.
“I’d still know,” she says bitingly (and somehow, he believes her). “Now, since I knew you got on the elevator, but didn’t go to a room, that left the top floor. Nothing else—like the gym or the executive business level—made sense.” She’s grinning, clearly thrilled with herself. “Helpful hint? Next time you want to hide, find a spot that isn’t behind glass walls. I saw you the moment I stepped out of the elevator.”
“We were not trying to hide,” Shaun informs her.
“Maybe you weren’t,” her voice is shrewd, “but Melendez sure was.”
She’s mostly right—Neil hadn’t been looking to ‘hide’ so much as he’d been looking to buy Shaun some time to regain himself, but the distinction is minor and not worth arguing over.
“Look,” he begins, “you can save your spiel about needing us to return immediately. We have it memorized by now, so—”
“I’m not here to nag you, and you don’t have to worry, I won’t be telling Andrews where you are. Frankly, I’m sick of it. I have much more worth than to act as your prison guard all night.” She drops her clutch onto a nearby chaise lounge so she can grip the railing, then uses her hold to lean back and look up at the sky. “I told Andrews as much.”
Neil’s stunned into momentary silence, because that’s the last thing he expected to hear from her, of all people.
“You told him that?” Shaun’s somewhat apprehensive. “What did he say?”
“He told me something I figured out a long time ago.” She laughs a little. “You get it, don’t you? This whole thing? Why he won’t leave you alone?”
Shaun mutely shakes his head, and because she’s Morgan, Neil knows she could be going anywhere with this.
“It’s not only about what you do for him,” she tells Shaun. “Whether it’s raising money or your research or—well, you know everything that you do. And that’s all a big part of it, but there’s more to it than that.” She looks between them, searching for something, and when she doesn’t find it, she breathes out in annoyance. “You two really are wrapped up in each other, aren’t you? You don’t see half of what goes on around you. Or right in front of you.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Shaun says, and it’s better that he’s the one who answered her, because Neil’s response wouldn’t have been half as kind—not with how frustrating she’s being (which he suspects is deliberate).
And Neil’s more or less proven right when she smiles smugly at them, and goads, “Come on! You really have no idea?”
Shaun looks to Neil, seeking some sort of answer he doesn’t have, which makes Neil affect the tone that no one will argue with, not even Morgan. “Out with it, Reznick.”
Her face falls into a displeased frown at having her fun cut short, but she gives in, turning to Shaun and bluntly informing him, “Andrews is worried about you.”
“He is?” Shaun asks, and his question is the only thing Neil’s heard so far in this conversation that surprises him.
“Wait,” Neil turns Shaun back to him by his shoulder, “you didn’t know that?”
“Oh.” Morgan’s clearly disappointed that she hasn’t revealed any groundbreaking news about their boss. “So you did know.”
“Of course I knew,” Neil tells her. “That’s how Marcus is, how he’s always been. The more worried he is, the more aggravating he gets. He has difficulty expressing emotions like a normal person.”
“I did not know that,” Shaun murmurs.
“Sorry, I should have…” He looks from Shaun to Morgan, both of whom appear to be processing this new information in their own ways. “Sometimes I forget that none of you have known him as long as I have.”
“Is that why he’s on you all the time?” Morgan jokes to Neil. “Because he’s concerned about you?”
Neil can’t help laughing. “No, I just annoy the hell out of him. And it’s mutual.”
Morgan idly kicks at the leg of a chaise lounge, like she’s testing its durability. “I suppose from a purely practical standpoint, it makes sense.” She glances at Shaun. “You do a lot for him and the hospital. Obviously, he wants to make sure that you’re…doing all right. He shows that by hovering and otherwise irritating you.”
“Hmm,” Neil nods in agreement, “and what’s your excuse, Reznick?”
“You know me,” her voice teems with feigned pleasantry, “I’m practically overflowing with concern for my colleagues.” She cautiously perches on the edge of the chaise, and when it doesn’t collapse under her, she relaxes. “For what it’s worth, I tried telling Andrews he’s wasting his time worrying about Shaun.”
Neil knows where she’s going with this, and he’s not sure how well Shaun will take it, but he misses his chance to steer the conversation somewhere else when Shaun asks her, “What do you mean?”
She takes in his genuine curiosity for a few long seconds. “Why are we on the observation deck right now?” When he fails to answer, she adds, “And whose idea was it to come up here?”
Neil studies her, wondering how she’d determined it was him, and not Shaun, who’d brought them to the roof. “How did you—”
“It’s what you do,” she interrupts, not even needing him to finish the question. “What you’ve always done.” She leans back, allowing her eyes to fall shut. “And now that you’re in a relationship, I don’t know why our boss would ever be concerned about Shaun again. Which is exactly what I told him.”
At first, Neil thinks there might be some kind of subtle dig hidden in her statements, but all he hears is sincerity. Maybe even more than that, it sounds like she’s stating what she believes to be a fact. (And that causes him immense satisfaction, because if Morgan’s aware of how far he’ll go to protect Shaun, then it means pretty much everyone else they work with knows, as well.)
Shaun’s quietly putting together her (mostly unspoken) implication, but unlike Neil, he doesn’t like it. “I don’t need anyone. I can take care of—”
“Yourself,” Morgan interjects. “We know, Shaun. We’ve all heard this speech a hundred times. And you know what? We can all take care of ourselves—but that doesn’t mean you always have to refuse help from other people. I also want to add that your righteous indignation is hard to swallow when you only have yourself to blame for the conclusion I reached a long time ago.”
Shaun’s clearly lost, but he remains quiet, waiting for her to go on.
“That automatic, unhappy reaction that you just had? That’s the kind of reaction you have whenever anyone tries to help you. You shut them down immediately, often angrily. With the occasional exception of Dr. Glassman, you push everyone away. Except…” She waves a hand at Neil. “Him…you only draw closer. And that was true before you admitted you loved each other. I used to wonder about it, too. Obviously, I don’t anymore.”
Shaun’s just staring at her, like he’s consciously realizing (maybe for the first time) how right she is.
“So don’t get upset because I happened to point out the truth,” she’s continuing, slightly miffed. “Besides, what’s so awful about letting other people help you? It doesn’t mean you can’t do things for yourself.”
Shaun shakes his head before she’s done talking. “My whole life, people have tried to ‘help’ me, but it’s almost always a lie. They’re not helping me, they’re helping themselves. By doing things to make their lives easier, or to allow them to feel better about themselves.” He’s getting more frustrated as he goes on. “People try to make decisions for me. They try to do things for me. Even Dr. Glassman has made that mistake many times. None of that helps me.”
“And Dr. Melendez?” She sounds genuinely curious.
“He knows the difference between helping and…taking my choices away.”
Neil feels something inside him twist at the unwavering honesty and gratitude in his voice. Shaun’s trust in him is absolute and Neil will never take that for granted, not least of all because he knows what it costs for the younger man to extend it. He reaches over to run his hand down Shaun’s arm, for no other reason than to acknowledge that he hears him. (Neil’s gotten significantly better at listening over the past year, gotten better at recognizing that it’s not even necessarily about the words someone is saying…and a lot of that is thanks to Shaun.)
“That’s one of the things I miss the most about being in a relationship,” Morgan’s sighing, maybe to herself; her tone is one-part envious, two-parts wistful. “Having someone who knows you that well, who can help when you most need it. Without even having to ask them.” She sinks further into the chaise lounge. “What you two have…I almost find it sweet.” Her eyes widen, like she can’t believe what she’s just admitted, out loud, in front of witnesses. She presses the heels of her hands to her forehead and groans, “My God, how much have I had to drink tonight? Do not repeat any of that.”
“We could probably keep it between us,” Neil offers. “For the right price.”
“Don’t try and blackmail me,” she threatens. “I’ll blackmail you right back. A hundred times worse.”
“You have nothing on us,” Neil points out.
She narrows her eyes. “I’ll make something up. I'm very creative.”
Shaun, as usual, ignores their argument entirely as he checks his phone. “Dr. Andrews is texting me. We should go back.”
“You should say no to him more often,” Morgan suggests, stretching as she returns to her feet. “He asks so much of you because you rarely put up a fight.”
“This is our job,” Shaun says evenly. “I want to be here tonight.”
“I don’t mean tonight, which was mandatory for all of us. I’m talking about the things he’s always asking you to volunteer for. Like after work. Or on your days off.” Her voice turns more innocent. “Unless you enjoy all the community outreach programs he’s roped you into lately?”
Shaun briefly hesitates. “You know I do not.” He’s complained about it many times, to all of them. Shaun doesn’t mind volunteering when he can actively help people in their city, but many of the extra events Marcus asks him to assist with barely require consciousness—things like sitting for hours at an information booth or attending city council meetings to ‘represent’ their hospital. (Neil’s gone to a few things with him and they’re as boring as he remembers from the days of his own residency.)
“You’re part of a team,” Morgan reminds him. “Tell Andrews you want to enjoy more of your time off and he’ll spread things around more. Take the holiday fair he signed us up for next weekend, as an example.” Her smile turns biting. “Alex could stand to spend his Saturday interacting with his fellow citizens and handing out educational pamphlets. It’s not like he has anything better to do with his free time.”
“Andrews is equally as likely to make you do it,” Neil points out.
“Good,” she says snippily. “I love helping those in our community who are most in need.”
Neil wonders if she’s ever going to realize that he can see right through her. In his field, it’s people like Morgan who are common and people like Shaun, who have no use for subterfuge, that are rare. “Or, Reznick, it’s that you want more opportunities to impress him. Opportunities that would come along much more frequently if Shaun turned him down more often.”
“So what?” She crosses her arms and addresses Shaun. “It’s not like your future’s in any jeopardy here, which means it’s win-win. You get to do less, we get to do more. Think of how much you could get done in your free time if you cut back on the volunteering. I’m sure you and Melendez have plenty of mind-numbing things you’d love to do if you only had more time together.”
It must be downright impossible for her to go more than five sentences without issuing some kind of subtle insult. And yet…she’s not saying anything Neil hasn’t thought for a while. He’s always felt like Marcus asked too much of Shaun, but he’d never wanted to interfere and make it seem like he was using his position to sway things in his resident’s favor.
“Three of my last four days off, I have done things Dr. Andrews requested,” Shaun says, as he looks at Neil, which means he wants his input.
“You should do what you want,” Neil tells him. “But you shouldn’t say yes to everything just because you think it’s what he wants to hear. You’re allowed to enjoy your free time. You’re allowed to have a life. After everything we give to our jobs, we’ve all earned that.” He glances at Morgan, making sure that she’s listening to this next part, because she’s the one who most needs to hear it. “Don’t ignore your personal life for your career. You might think it’s worth it, and for years, for decades, it might be. But in the end, you’ll regret it. I’ve seen it happen to too many people. They sacrifice their families, their friends, their hobbies—any semblance of a life outside of work gets pushed aside and forgotten. But we can’t do this forever, there’s an ‘after’ for all of us, and if you retire and there’s nothing? You’ll hate it and you’ll be miserable, and you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you’d done things differently.”
“Maybe I want work to be my life,” Morgan argues, probably just for the hell of it. “I could figure out a way to centralize everything, personal and professional, around our hospital.” She sends an arch look Neil’s way. “Like you two have.”
“You could date another doctor,” Shaun says, helpfully.
She’s thoroughly unimpressed with that suggestion. “Doctors are just about the worst people to have relationships with. Arrogant, entitled, completely and utterly incapable of seeing anything beyond themselves—”
“He didn’t tell you to date yourself, Reznick,” Neil interrupts, with a smirk. When she swats his arm, he adds, “You walked right into that one.”
Shaun seems to have taken offense at her description. “Doctors are people, like everyone else. All people have good and bad qualities.”
“Yes, but a lot of the same attributes that make a person a great doctor also make them terrible at relationships.” She heads back inside, with Shaun shortly behind her, which means Neil has no choice but to follow them both. “It’s basically a scientific fact.”
“It is not,” Shaun refutes. “Claiming something is a scientific fact does not make it one. There are lots of good people who work at our hospital.”
“Murphy’s right,” Neil says, as they reach the elevators and he presses the button to go down. “You just have to open your eyes.”
“Yes, you could date an ophthalmologist,” Shaun tells Morgan.
She presses a hand to her face in a futile effort to stifle her laughter. “I don’t even know if that was actually funny.” She turns to Neil. “Was that funny? Or is it the alcohol?” Before he can attempt an answer, she waves him off. “Forget it, why am I asking you? Your extreme affection for him makes you blind to whether he’s actually humorous or not.”
“It was mostly a joke,” Shaun informs her, as they step into the elevator. “If you needed clarification.”
“What do you say, Reznick?” Neil begins, slyly. “Have you…got eyes for any ophthalmologists?”
She groans as she collapses against the back wall of the elevator. “That is so terrible. Stick to your day job, please, because that kind of humor could kill.”
“Puns are a sign of intelligence,” Shaun chimes in. “I read a study where—”
She holds up a hand to stave him off. “I don’t need a twenty minute lecture on why Dr. Melendez is the smartest person you know.”
“I am the smartest person I know,” Shaun counters, matter of factly.
“He’s humble, too,” Neil loudly whispers to Morgan.
She snickers before telling Shaun, “Fine, I don’t need a twenty minute lecture on why you love him so much.”
Shaun glances back and forth between them. “Neil has many admirable qualities. I could list them.”
“That wasn’t a challenge, Murphy,” Neil warns, knowing what tends to happen when Shaun tries to ‘prove’ that they’re together. But then he wonders… “Actually, I might enjoy hearing that list.”
“How long does this elevator take?” Morgan’s voice has taken on a decidedly whiny note as she watches the numbers for the floors tick down. “I have to get out of here.”
“I was not aware you were claustrophobic,” Shaun says, with some concern.
“I’m not yet,” she says warily, “but I can tell this is how that phobia starts.”
“A phobia usually involves something traumatic—”
“Exactly,” she interrupts.
Thankfully, before Morgan and Shaun can start an actual argument over the clinical origin of phobias, the doors open and she’s off like a shot, throwing a hasty wave at them over her shoulder.
Neil turns to Shaun as they reenter the lobby. “Sure you’re ready to go back?”
Shaun adjusts the ends of his shirtsleeves and Neil feels an automatic surge of worry before he realizes that his resident isn’t about to unfasten his cufflinks. No, this time he’s just pulling at the fabric to ensure it’s as neat as he can possibly make it. “I am ready,” Shaun says, smiling at him. “Are you?”
“Only if you are,” he says, as Shaun nods, and they head back towards the ballroom.
Neil doesn’t dwell upon the fact that his words were much more of a promise than the simple answer Shaun was looking for.
Chapter 7
Notes:
And thus, it's the end of the gala - yes, I actually finished an arc! And it's a holiday arc, I know, but January counts as close enough to the holidays, right? For those curious, this story is about 2/3 of the way through, by my estimate (and those are always very accurate ;).
Morgan and Park feature heavily in this chapter and they're pretty much going to become an unofficial (though minor) secondary pairing.
Thank you to everyone who is continuing to enjoy this story, you all keep me going! <3
[AN, Jan. 2022: a wonderful reader, anthonyred, has illustrated a scene from this chapter, Neil and Shaun at the gala. I'm so honored and wanted to give all readers a chance to enjoy this lovely artwork!]
Chapter Text
Aaron Glassman must have been hovering by the main doors of the ballroom, because the moment Neil and Shaun step inside, he appears in front of them. (It’s really a roll of the dice, at this point, on who will bother them next.)
His worried eyes are focused only on Shaun when he says, “You two are still here.” (And maybe he’s taking lessons on stating the obvious from Shaun.) “I thought—I hoped that you’d left.”
“We did not leave,” Shaun unnecessarily confirms.
“I can see that.” Now Aaron’s focused on Neil, slightly disapproving in a way that Neil doesn’t appreciate. “You can go home, though. I think you’ve put in more than enough time tonight.” Though he seems to be talking to both of them, Neil knows the excuse is entirely for Shaun’s benefit.
“We are staying,” Shaun tells him. “There are people I have not talked to yet.”
Rather than appeasing the older man, every word seems to frustrate Aaron more. “I know Dr. Andrews told you that you had to stay until 11, but he has no authority to actually issue orders like that. So don’t feel like you have to stay on his account.”
It’s all Neil can do not to laugh at that. “When have I ever done anything voluntary because Marcus wanted me to?”
“We’re not discussing your issues with authority, Neil—issues which you are in danger of passing on to your residents, by the way.”
“They’re insubordinate all on their own,” Neil counters. “They hardly need my help.”
“I told Neil that Dr. Andrews would be angry if we left the gala,” Shaun informs Aaron, “and he said that it would be a perk of leaving.”
“Now that sounds like Neil.” Aaron sends him a sideways glance and mutters, in aside, “Issues.” His concern hasn’t vanished, either, as evidenced by the way he turns back to Shaun and asks, “Are you alright?”
Shaun folds his hands in front of himself and nods. “I am fine. I’m going to say ‘no’ more.”
Aaron’s at a loss. “Okay?”
“It’s a good thing,” Shaun assures him, smiling at Neil.
“It is,” Neil agrees, relieved all over again at the knowledge that Shaun has decided to deliberately lighten his workload. (Technically, Neil has Morgan to thank for helping with something that’s been bothering him for months… Their world really works in strange and mysterious ways.) “He’s going to say ‘no’ to Marcus more often,” Neil tells Aaron, since Shaun doesn’t seem inclined to explain. “When it comes to…voluntary things.”
“Alright.” Aaron’s still not satisfied. “You should both go home.”
Neil supposes he should be glad that Aaron hadn’t issued it as a direct order, but it irritates him all the same. “He just told you he’s fine, Aaron, and he wants to stay.” It takes some effort to lighten his tone, but he manages when he adds, “Since when can I make Murphy do something he doesn’t want to do?”
“You—” Aaron wisely stops whatever he was about to say, though Neil has a few educated guesses, most of them arguments that Neil can, in fact, get Shaun to do things he doesn’t want to do. (And Aaron would merely be stating the truth, but they both know he won’t do it in front of Shaun.)
Over the past year (and the last few months, especially) Neil has learned that the best methods of persuading Shaun have to do with logic—if he can come up with a rational argument for anything, Shaun’s likely to agree. He’s also learned how to get him to comply with things he doesn’t necessarily like if they’re in his own best interest, and that usually goes back to logic, too. (Neil’s general favorite is some variation of ‘How can you care for our patients to the best of your ability if you don’t care for yourself to the best of your ability?’) He’s also not above using emotional appeals: Shaun doesn’t tend to care if those appeals are concerns for him, but if they’re for someone he cares about—his friends, or Aaron, or Neil himself? That’s an entirely different story. All Neil would have to do is say he’s had enough of their gala and Shaun would be the one insisting they leave.
Despite all of that, Neil’s very careful to never use anything he’s learned to manipulate or coerce Shaun into doing anything that’s truly against his will. That holds true across any and all situations, with only one caveat—that Shaun’s well-being isn’t a factor. If Shaun hadn’t recovered during their time alone upstairs, or if he wanted to stay when it was clear it would be detrimental to him, Neil wouldn’t have any qualms about using every method at his disposal to get him to leave. But Shaun’s perfectly fine at the moment and he wants to stay. So they’re staying.
Perhaps Shaun’s picked up on the growing tension between the two men, because he takes a step closer to Aaron, emphasizing, “I want to remain at the gala.”
“I got that, Shaun.” Aaron’s voice holds the weariness of someone who’s had similar arguments dozens of times, across dozens of places—and that’s all it takes for Neil’s annoyance with him to fade. He knows, at the heart of everything, that Aaron’s only ever operating from one place when it comes to Shaun: the desire to make sure he’s okay. (Neil happens to know that place incredibly well.)
“You do not want me to stay,” Shaun says flatly, now sounding as unhappy as Aaron.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to stay,” Aaron tries to explain. “It’s that I don’t want you to feel like you have to be here if it’s become…too difficult for you.” He looks at Shaun’s still-folded hands, causing Neil to recall that the other man had been present when Shaun couldn’t stop playing with his cufflinks earlier. (Of everyone, Aaron knows all too well where Shaun would have been heading if he hadn’t taken a break when he did.) “Are you going to try and tell me that you were fine the last time I saw you?”
“I was not,” Shaun says slowly, glancing at Neil. “I am now.”
“We both know how important these events are to you,” Aaron says quietly.
“More money means—”
“—less people die,” Aaron finishes. “And you’re right, Shaun. But it means that I worry when it comes to things like this—when you say that you’re fine… Are you sure you’re not stretching the truth, to yourself, in order to stay?”
Neil knows that Shaun isn’t (because he can tell that he’s not), but he recognizes it’s been a valid concern in the past, so the answer is something Aaron needs to hear for himself—and directly from Shaun.
Shaun stares at his own hands for maybe fifteen seconds, and Neil gets the feeling he’s performing some kind of self-assessment in response to Aaron’s question. When he looks up at them again, he says firmly, “We all have to do things that we are not comfortable with, but I’m okay. If I needed to go home, I would have.” As Aaron’s concern somewhat eases, Shaun adds, “Neil offered to take me home several times.”
Aaron mutters to Neil, “You might have mentioned that.”
“You might have figured it out yourself,” Neil replies. “Did you really think I’d hold him hostage if he wanted to leave?”
“Neil would never hold me hostage,” Shaun asserts. “He is usually quite law-abiding.”
Aaron’s obviously amused by the sharp turn into left field their conversation’s taken. “Usually?”
“He sometimes drives above the speed limit.”
“Or are the speed limits too low?” Neil muses.
Shaun’s actually ticking items off on his fingers. “He often jaywalks.”
“There aren’t enough crosswalks around here!”
“He forgot to renew his driver’s license, despite my repeated reminders—”
“Harassment,” Neil interrupts. “Your repeated harassment.”
“—which means for two days at the start of this month, he had an expired license.”
“I take issue with that one,” Neil argues. “I didn’t drive when it was expired, so I wasn’t breaking the law.” He sends a censuring look Shaun’s way that he knows will have no effect (so he has no idea why he still does it, except maybe it’s habit). “I’m going to stop telling you things.”
“These are not things you have told me, merely things I’ve observed.”
“Careful, Shaun,” Aaron’s enjoying this to an unhealthy degree, “if you keep associating with delinquents like Neil, people might start believing you have criminal tendencies.”
Shaun seems to be thinking that over as he studies Neil, then soberly announces, “I will continue to associate.”
“I’m so honored,” Neil says dryly, though his own smile greatly ruins the effect.
“I do not know what would happen to him without my influence,” Shaun says to Aaron.
“He’d probably end up in jail,” Aaron replies, complete with a rueful shake of his head in an ‘I can’t believe Neil’s life choices’ sort of way.
“I can hear you,” Neil reminds them (though he needn’t have bothered, for all the effect it has).
“I have yet to see him commit a crime that would lead to imprisonment,” Shaun’s telling Aaron. “However, it is a fact that those who commit minor crimes are more likely to escalate to higher offenses, so theoretically—”
“Are you two having fun?” Neil interrupts. “Because theoretically I could walk away from both of you and go…” He realizes, too late, that there’s no good way to end that sentence. After all, he wouldn’t leave the gala without Shaun.
Aaron knows it, too. “You could go…do what?”
Neil sighs in defeat because there’s pretty much only one option. “Talk to other people,” he mumbles.
“By all means.” Aaron sweeps a hand behind him, towards the ballroom that’s just as crowded as it was a half hour earlier. “Don’t let me or Shaun hold you back.”
“Why do you always have to call my bluff?” Neil complains. “You. And Murphy. And my residents.” His thoughts stray to everyone else in his life. “Well, and Marcus. Jess. Audrey…”
“You should practice bluffing,” Shaun suggests.
“I should find new friends,” Neil retorts. “It’d be a lot easier.”
Shaun slowly shakes his head. “You do not believe that. It is difficult to make real friends; you should hold on to them when you find them. That’s what I do.”
“You’re right. I was only kidding—I have no plans to drop any of my friends.” Neil pauses, considering. “At least, not right this moment. Every day is really a coin flip, though.”
Shaun clearly doesn’t believe that, either, but he doesn’t get the chance to keep arguing because Aaron sighs as he pulls out his phone. “Marcus. Again.” He swipes away whatever notifications he’s gotten and returns it to his jacket pocket. “I meant to warn you both that he’s looking for you.”
That’s about the least helpful ‘warning’ Neil’s received all month. “We noticed by the way he’s been stalking us all evening. And enlisting others to do the same.”
“He cannot seem to do much without us,” Shaun agrees.
Aaron’s scanning their immediate vicinity, perhaps as surprised as Neil that after saying the other man’s name out loud, he hasn’t swooped in out of nowhere. “I told him to lay off. I don’t know if it was effective.”
“I’m going to take a wild guess that it wasn’t.” Neil holds up his phone to show Aaron that he’s gotten seven new texts from Marcus within the last five minutes. “Let’s read the latest one—ah, it’s a list of the various ways he’ll torture me if I don’t ‘return to the gala, ASAP’. How fun.”
“Nothing in that message sounds fun,” Shaun counters, having leaned over to read the text along with Neil. “He is being very antagonistic.”
“It’s because he’s annoyed that I’m not answering him.” Neil internally debates how wise it’d be to temporarily block his number before deciding it’s not worth listening to Marcus complain. Instead, he writes back, This is your official notice that I’m getting a restraining order. His phone starts vibrating within seconds of sending it, but Neil returns it to his pocket without reading the reply, because he’s not looking to have his good mood ruined.
“You threatened him with a restraining order, but you do not have legal grounds for one,” Shaun informs him.
“He irritates me. That’s legal grounds.”
“That is not legal grounds.”
“It’s a joke, Shaun,” he says quickly, before his resident can start citing California state law.
“Is it a joke?” Aaron’s eyes are sharp on them, but he’s silently laughing at Neil’s predicament—he can tell.
“Mostly,” Neil mutters.
“Issuing a threat as a means of humor,” Shaun says thoughtfully. “You are overreacting to his messages and the humor comes from…your disproportionate response?”
“Disproportionate response?” Clearly, no one around here understands just how difficult Neil’s life truly is. “I don’t think I agree with your assessment, Murphy.”
Shaun seems slightly confused. “You said it was a joke.”
“Mostly a joke. Mostly. I don’t discount that one day I might have to go to extreme measures to get away from Andrews.” Neil glances at Aaron, who’s shaking his head (probably in exasperation), then at Shaun, who’s smiling now. “Don’t think I can’t see you, Murphy. Guess that means you see the humor in my joke, after all?”
“I am not smiling at you,” Shaun unsuccessfully tries to claim (and conveniently ignores Neil’s question) as he takes out his phone. “Dr. Andrews is texting me again.”
“That’s because I’m ignoring him again.” Neil looks around, but their Chief of Surgery is still nowhere in sight. “Someone he deems prestigious must have him cornered, or else he’d already be over here.”
“He would like us to join him.” Shaun’s craning his neck to try and see past the crowd. “He is at a table between the dance floor and the bar.”
“Tell him if he wants us, he can come find us.”
“I am not going to—” Shaun breaks off when Neil swipes the phone from his hand.
“Never mind, I’ll do it.” Neil starts typing as he asks, “What’s a suitably Murphy-esque response? How about… If you don’t stop texting me, I am going to follow the lead of my brilliant and infallible attending to issue a restraining order against you.” He (wisely) hits send before Aaron or Shaun can react.
“Infallible?” Aaron’s voice sounds strangely choked.
“I like that you didn’t take issue with brilliant,” Neil laughs, as a return text instantaneously comes through: Give Murphy back his phone. “Uh oh. Somehow he knows that wasn’t you, Shaun.”
Shaun retrieves his phone, rapidly typing something as he scolds, “Now I have to apologize for you.”
“No, you really don’t,” Neil assures him.
“I do,” Shaun protests, as he sends his message. “I don’t want him to be upset with you.”
“It’s easier to give him reasons,” Neil says, ever practical. “He’ll always find something to be upset with me about, warranted or not.”
“I am aware,” Shaun murmurs. “I do not like it.”
Neil reaches over to run his hand along Shaun’s arm. “I know you don’t.”
Shaun’s phone vibrates and he reads Marcus’s reply, his expression darkening. Whatever their boss has said, Shaun more than doesn’t like it—he seems to outright hate it. He types out a brief reply, hitting the button to send it with unnecessary force.
“What did he say?” Aaron asks, frowning at Shaun’s unusual reaction to the message.
Shaun watches his phone for several more seconds, nodding with satisfaction when he doesn’t get a reply, and then looks at Neil. “He said that perhaps I need a break from you.”
Neil isn’t sure whether Marcus said it as a joke, or as a means of getting Shaun to seek him out by himself, but apparently it doesn’t matter—Shaun’s reaction reveals that he’s unhappy either way.
“As usual, Marcus doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Neil reassures him. “After all, who would want to keep their distance from me?”
He’d said it to lighten the mood, but there’s no matching humor in Shaun’s voice when he adamantly says, “Not. Me.”
Neil’s gaze softens when he smiles at Shaun in return. He doesn’t have to say the reverse is also true, because it’s something he’s said before, in a hundred different ways (and Shaun’s heard them all).
Aaron’s moving his eyes back and forth between them, like there’s something here he’s missing and he’ll find it if he only searches long enough. “So, I take it things are going well for you two? With…this…whole…” He makes some sort of gesture which Neil gathers is meant to encompass their relationship.
Neil surreptitiously looks around, making sure the three of them have relative privacy. “It’s fine, Aaron. I mean, as fine as a pretend relationship can be.”
“Right.” Aaron presses his mouth into a thin line and gives an exaggerated nod. “Pretend.”
Aside from Neil and Shaun, Aaron Glassman is the only one who knows that they aren’t actually in a relationship. Shaun had told him everything—their whole plan and the reasons behind it—the first day they’d agreed to this, insisting that he couldn’t lie to Aaron, even by omission.
At first, Aaron had thought it was some kind of prank, and when it sank in that they were serious, he’d started throwing around words like ‘short-sighted’ and ‘impulsive’ and ‘crazy’. But despite his best efforts, he’d completely failed in his mission to talk them out of it.
Aaron’s disapproval had lasted for approximately a week before Shaun had issued him an ultimatum, and after that, Aaron had done a complete 180, stating that not only was he in favor of their idea, but he would do whatever was necessary to ‘help them sell it’, which mostly consisted of loudly asking them things like ‘When are you going to move in together?’ or ‘It’s your 57 day anniversary, isn’t it?’. Aaron only tosses out his random, sometimes nonsensical questions when there are conveniently lots of people around—like when they’re waiting in line in the cafeteria, or when he needlessly stops by one of their department’s staff meetings.
Of course, Neil knows that Aaron doesn’t do it to ‘help’ them—he’s fairly certain the older man does it because he’s trying to make some kind of point, probably that even though he’s no longer actively against what they’re doing, he still doesn’t entirely approve. (And surprisingly, Shaun’s actually much better at rolling with Aaron’s questions than Neil is, so he generally lets his resident field them—when Neil had once asked why he didn’t find them difficult to answer, Shaun had explained it was easy to come up with responses if they were technically the truth.)
In light of all that, Aaron’s inquiry a minute ago had been abnormally subdued compared to his usual style—and that means he must genuinely want to know how they’re doing, which Neil can’t blame him for. Despite the older man’s enjoyment of good-naturedly harassing them, Neil’s pretty sure the reason Aaron came around to their plan at all was because he saw how much it helped Shaun (despite Aaron’s initial misgivings).
“Things are good,” Shaun’s telling Aaron—another one of those ‘technically truthful’ answers he loves to give.
“Good,” Aaron repeats, without any affect.
Shaun nods in confirmation. “We’re both happy.”
Aaron hums noncommittally, letting silence fall for a few moments before he asks, “And is that pretend, too?”
Shaun’s expression clears, sharpening exponentially as he tries to determine what Aaron’s getting at. “No.” There’s an edge to his voice Neil doesn’t recognize. “It is not.”
Instead of replying to Shaun, Aaron turns his piercing gaze on Neil in silent question. Neil has the inexplicable urge to snap at him (for what, he doesn’t know), but he forces himself to remain calm when he repeats, “No, it’s not.”
“It’s not,” Aaron slowly echoes. “Funny how that works, isn’t it, Neil?”
“I do not see any humor in this conversation,” Shaun says, with no shortage of suspicion.
“Nor do I, Shaun,” Aaron assures him. Shaun doesn’t seem satisfied with that response (and neither is Neil, for that matter), but no one presses the issue any further.
Neil knows that Aaron’s questions are borne of leftover worry and concern from back when they’d first started this—even though it outwardly appears as if their feigned relationship has helped Shaun, Aaron wants to make sure he isn’t missing anything.
Neil thinks back to his conversation with Shaun up on the observation deck. The simple question Shaun had asked.
Does this make you happy?
And Neil’s equally simple answer in return.
Yes, it does.
Shaun’s happiness when it comes to this has always been what mattered most to Neil, but Shaun had reminded him that it goes both ways: Neil’s happiness is equally as important to Shaun.
Happiness. Of all the places he’d ever thought he’d find it, he can definitively say that in a fake relationship with his most challenging resident is something that he’d never have imagined, not even in his wildest dreams.
Aaron seems like he’s about to say more, but the words are forever lost when Morgan wanders up to their group and demands, “Why are you all hanging out by the door? I wanted to—” She loses her train of thought when she happens to glance up and something very close to sheer delight crosses her face. “Would you look at that?”
The three men follow her gaze and yes, this just makes Neil’s night complete.
Mistletoe.
Aaron’s the only one of them with any sense, as proven by the way he issues a hasty, barely intelligible excuse before fleeing from their group and disappearing back into the depths of the ballroom. (He might as well have said that he has no desire to stick around and see what unfolds next—he knows them all so well.)
Neil has half a mind to follow him, but he can’t, in good conscience, leave anyone alone with Reznick under mistletoe. (Okay, that’s a lie, because he’d definitely abandon Andrews with her just for the awkward hilarity of it.) He’s also relatively sure it hadn’t been there earlier, because Morgan would have commented on it in an effort to see who she could make the most uncomfortable.
“It’s definitely professional to have that at a work event with all our colleagues,” Neil says sarcastically.
Morgan’s eyes light up, which should have clued him in to where her thoughts were going. “Since when does keeping things professional with colleagues matter to you, Dr. Melendez?”
He can’t believe he set her up so perfectly. And he can’t even chastise her for it, since she’s more or less right. He can tell she’s calculating what to say next, so he can only hope it doesn’t involve anyone kissing anyone.
That’s right when she drawls, “Which one of you lucky gentlemen do I get to kiss?”
Shaun actually reels backwards, and in his horror, he neglects to check his surroundings and has the misfortune of backing straight into Park, who’d unknowingly been on a collision course in a path behind him.
Alex sets a steadying hand on his arm, keeping them both balanced. “Where’s the fire, Murphy?”
“There is no fire.” Shaun reaches for his absent tie, in a nervous gesture, and frowns when he remembers it’s gone, switching to pull at his cufflinks instead. “Morgan wants to kiss one of us.”
Alex makes an exaggerated show of waving towards the doors. “In that case, I’m sorry I blocked your exit. You should run while you still can.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Morgan punctuates each syllable with a clap. “You’re a goddamn riot, Park.” Her glacial expression has felled many, but her fellow resident doesn’t even blink. “Sorry that I’m the only one around here with any holiday spirit.”
“Holiday spirit should not involve kissing.” Shaun’s tone perfectly matches how horrified he’d looked moments earlier.
“You’ve never experienced my version of holiday spirit,” she smirks, blowing him a kiss that causes him to take another step back, then she flicks her eyes up at the mistletoe. “No takers? You’re all missing out.” Despite her complaints, it’s apparent to everyone that she’s keeping this up because they’d rather be anywhere else. (Or at least, Neil knows it’s true for him and Shaun—he can never tell much with Park.)
Shaun eyes Morgan warily, like he’s genuinely afraid she’s going to lunge at him any moment. “I am not kissing you,” he announces, loudly enough that a few people talking nearby glance over in confusion. (Or maybe amusement.) Shaun edges another step towards the exit, but Park’s not in his way anymore, so Neil reaches out to grab his elbow and pull him back. He’s half-convinced if Shaun gets enough momentum he might keep going and leave after all.
“I appreciate how thoroughly appalled you are,” Morgan’s telling Shaun, complete with theatrical pouting. “It’s not at all insulting.”
“I do not kiss people,” Shaun explains. “I do not like—”
Neil loudly clears his throat, Shaun abruptly stops talking, and Alex looks between them without any hint of what he’s thinking.
Morgan furrows her brow in confusion. “You don’t kiss people?” She motions at Neil (and he’s relieved there’s no actual question in the teasing). Morgan must think Shaun is just…being Shaun.
“Dr. Melendez is not…people,” Shaun says carefully. “He is Neil.”
“Hey! I’m a person.” Neil’s protest is mild, because he knows what Shaun is trying to say. It’s an echo of their conversation from upstairs, and it actually means a lot to hear from Shaun.
“You are not them.” Shaun’s eyes sweep over the ballroom, across the hundreds of people in attendance tonight.
Neil’s about to reply, let him know he understands, but Shaun has already turned back to Morgan, who’s suggesting —
“Why don’t you two kiss right now?”
Damn, he knew it. He knew she might get to this point, and he vigorously shakes his head while trying to find a way out of this. “Shaun is not comfortable with—”
“Oh come on!” she tries to cajole them. “It’s tradition. For good luck and future happiness and all that other probably made-up stuff. I’m sure Shaun knows this already. He knows everything.”
“It is tradition,” Shaun says, nodding. “Morgan is correct.”
“See, he doesn’t want—” Then Neil registers what Shaun said. Because it sounds an awful lot like agreement with Morgan. “What?”
“One of the main origins of the tradition was to bless a couple with fertility,” Shaun adds.
Morgan squints at them, as if she’s giving the matter great thought. “Yeah, I don’t think all the mistletoe in the world would let you two have a baby.”
“On the contrary,” Shaun says, “we could both—”
“Biologically with each other,” she groans, like she can’t believe she has to explain.
“Oh, yes,” Shaun amiably agrees. “It would not.”
“You could always adopt,” Park suggests, which sparks Morgan to chime in that she’s always liked that idea, and Neil has no idea when he lost control of this conversation, but he thinks it was a long time ago. (Maybe it was over a year ago, back when he first got assigned to these people.)
He definitely needs to get a handle on things before they start planning his and Shaun’s entire future family, but that’s when Morgan inadvertently solves the problem for him—unfortunately, it’s by reminding everyone of their previous topic.
“I’m waitinnng,” she needles, making a show of putting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot. Neil figures it’s probably a toss-up on what’s more to blame for her persistence: the amount of champagne she’s consumed or how much she enjoys antagonizing them. “You two don’t want to curse your relationship with terrible luck, do you?”
Suddenly the only thing Neil wants is distance from her, because Morgan is incredibly hard to distract once she gets an idea in her head, so barring something drastic, she’s not going to let this go. That means Shaun’s probably going to try and ‘solve’ things by doing his best to convince her and Park that they’re in a happy relationship, and she’s too good at picking up on their cues (even slightly inebriated) so Neil will have to do something to cover, or risk the truth coming out that they aren’t together at the worst time and place possible. And that means he’ll probably think about doing something completely insane, like kissing Shaun—just to convince them of course—and what would Shaun’s reaction be? Would he get upset? Would he go along with it to try and fool them? Would he think Neil had completely lost his mind, which is exactly what it’s starting to feel like?
Morgan’s looking expectantly between them, but her smile is dimming, and Neil can practically see the way she’s piecing things together in her head.
“There is no such thing as luck, either good or bad,” Shaun says. “There is also no such thing as being ‘cursed’. However, people can illogically believe such things which may influence their actions and behaviors.”
Morgan presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose and sighs. “Too late, you’re cursed.”
Shaun fidgets, and despite declaring that he doesn’t believe in curses, he’s clearly irritated with her. He unfastens and refastens his cufflinks, then says briskly, “You cannot be cursed if curses do not exist.”
She’s on a roll now, though, and won’t back down. “Sounds like what someone who’s cursed would say if they were in denial. Anyways, it’s really not a big deal if you don’t want to kiss each other. If there’s some kind of trouble in paradise I’m missing here, then I apologize.” Neil figures that last line, delivered too sweetly, was a deliberate shot to get a reaction out of them.
And it works.
“Neil and I kiss,” Shaun begins insisting. “All the time. Because we are in a relationship.” Oh no, he’s trying to convince her, which is exactly what Neil feared would happen. “We are never not kiss–”
“Murphy.” Neil wraps a hand around Shaun’s wrist to help calm him. “She gets it.”
Shaun takes a deliberate breath, staring at Neil’s hand. “I do not think she does.”
“You’re both acting really strange about this.” She’s glancing between them, far too perceptive for her own good. “And I’m not talking about the baseline level of strange I expect from both of you. This seems…different.” She looks at Alex. “Don’t you agree?”
“You’re making them uncomfortable,” Park says flatly, and while it’s mostly a rebuke, it’s also not a refutation of the accusation she’d made—and Neil knows Park well enough to realize it means he finds their behavior odd, too. He’s wise enough not to say it out loud, but if Neil can interpret his response, that means Morgan can, as well.
This is what happens when they spend too much time with people. Neil finds it ironic that when they act like their normal selves, everyone thinks they’re together—but when they try to insist that they are, that’s when people get suspicious. (He’ll never understand it.)
“I’m sorry that telling the truth makes people uncomfortable,” Morgan says, by way of ‘apology’. “I was only pointing out the beliefs behind a holiday tradition.”
“Exactly. You are telling us what people believe,” Shaun stresses. “You are not telling the truth, which is that luck and curses do not exist…no matter how much you insist they do.”
It’s clear Morgan wants to argue (probably just for the enjoyment of arguing), but she happens to glance at Park and some kind of look passes between them that Neil can’t interpret. The end result is that, by some miracle, she keeps her mouth shut.
Neil studies Shaun where he’s still standing under the mistletoe, illuminated by the colorful lights around the doorway. He takes in the younger man’s rigid posture and increasing discontent, both signs of his aggravation that he knows he’s right, but can’t prove it to Morgan (mostly because she doesn’t want to hear it). Shaun’s letting her get to him, which is always the first mistake when it comes to Morgan—Shaun knows that, but for whatever reason tonight, he’s unable to help it.
For the briefest of moments, Neil wonders what it would be like if they were in a real relationship. How it would feel to lean into Shaun, right here, right now, and kiss him until his irritation and anger vanished. Until he forgot about his annoyance with Morgan, with their conversation…with the entire evening.
He wonders what it’d be like to make him forget everything.
He tries to ignore that thought as soon as it crosses his mind because their relationship isn’t real—at least, not in the way that everyone thinks it is.
“You’ve never believed in luck, Murphy?” Neil asks, partly to distract himself and partly because he’s curious about the answer.
Shaun turns his full attention to Neil, and even something that minor has consequences—Shaun’s entire demeanor slowly changes. Neil sees it in the way he drops his shoulders, in the way the lines of tension in him begin to ease.
Mostly, he sees it in the way the unhappiness starts fading from his eyes.
Shaun moves a step closer to him and says, seriously, “I believe in…making good choices. That will lead to good outcomes.”
“That’s called making your own luck.”
“That is an expression which has nothing to do with what Morgan was incorrectly claiming.” Shaun ignores her huff of annoyance, explaining, “True luck requires no action from an individual. It simply…is. Or is not. So in that sense, it is not real.”
Neil makes sure to choose his next words carefully, since he’s more on Morgan’s side of the debate (though unlike her, he’s not looking for an actual fight). “We’ve all experienced…unusual things. People who spontaneously recover or get better by no means which we can explain. There are any number of names for it: coincidences, miracles, happenstance…luck.”
“Just because we cannot explain it does not mean there isn’t a reason.” Shaun directs that at Morgan, and Neil half-expects her to start in again, but she’s merely watching them with interest. “Attributing things to ‘luck’,” Shaun continues, “is one of the ways the human mind tries to impose order on a random and chaotic world.”
“You’re probably right,” Neil concedes, “in the strictest sense. But…some part of me will always believe in things we can’t explain.” He knows Shaun’s next question will be ‘Why?’ and answers it before his resident even speaks. “Because I want to believe, Shaun.”
Now, Shaun’s the one studying him. “So…you believe in luck?”
“I’ll take anything that helps me, or my patients, if we happen to need it. Besides, like you said, it can influence people’s thoughts and behaviors. It can help them. Psychologically. Emotionally.”
“It can hurt them, too.”
“If they take it to extremes, sure. But that’s true of anything. And I don’t think that occasionally believing in luck is going to hurt me.” He sends Shaun a pointed look. “Nor would it hurt you.”
Shaun considers that before allowing, “Probably not. That still does not mean I’m going to believe in something irrational simply because it ‘would not hurt me’.”
“No one’s saying you have to,” Neil assures him, and then he adds, without really thinking about it, “But I’m never against trying to tip luck in my favor, if I can help it.”
“You’re not,” Shaun says as a statement, not a question.
Neil shakes his head, and Shaun’s smiling now, which is a marked change from a few minutes earlier, when he’d had this similar argument with Morgan. It’s like Shaun’s almost entirely forgotten his aggravation from before. (The difference, Neil supposes, is that he’s no longer concerned with who’s right or wrong—he’s simply enjoying the debate for itself.)
And Neil wonders, if he can cause such a change in Shaun’s mood simply by talking to him, then what if…
Neil has no idea who moves first (which probably means they do it at the same time), but the next moment, they’re leaning into each other, and the press of his mouth against Shaun’s hits him with an actual jolt, a spark of lightning flashing across his mind that he can’t find the right words to describe. He distantly registers that his life has somehow become a romantic movie cliché (kissing under the mistletoe, at a work event, in front of everyone—and why does none of that matter to him?). An undeniable feeling of electricity, of warmth, spreads everywhere in him, and even though it’s been a long time since he kissed someone, Neil thinks he’d remember if it had ever felt like this.
The next second, Shaun freezes in a way that’s definitely not natural, and Neil guesses that his resident is realizing this was a crazy thing to do, that he’s second-guessing his actions (which is what Neil should be doing, make no mistake). He’s about to step back when Shaun inhales sharply and then moves closer, angling his head to increase the contact between them, and Neil’s momentarily distracted from his own whirlwind of emotions for long enough to realize that he was right. He can feel the last of Shaun’s tension vanish in the way the younger man relaxes against him, and the most insane part of his mind considers deepening the kiss, but that’s (obviously) when Morgan starts heckling them in the background.
“You call that a kiss?” she’s demanding. “I kiss my grandmother with more passion than—” She yelps in outrage and Neil learns why a moment later when she starts exaggeratedly whining that Alex ‘attacked her’ (read: elbowed her in the side to get her to be quiet).
“Clearly, it didn’t work because you’re still talking,” Park complains, and Neil starts laughing because he just can’t help it.
He presses a final kiss to the edge of Shaun’s mouth in silent apology for their friends and carefully moves back while searching his face for any sign of discomfort or unhappiness. When Neil finds none, he sighs in overwhelming relief that their kiss hasn’t just screwed up the best relationship he currently has in his life. (One of the best ones he’s ever had, come to think of it.)
“Now we’ll have good luck,” Shaun says, matter of factly. Before Neil can remind him that he doesn’t believe in luck, Shaun turns to Morgan, apparently fascinated by her declaration. “You kiss your grandmother in a similar fashion?”
“Uh…no.” Her face is turning slightly red, and her whining hasn’t stopped, either. “It’s an expression, Shaun.”
“I’ve never heard it,” Shaun proclaims.
“That’s because no one says it,” Alex confirms, reaching out a hand to grasp Morgan’s arm when she tries to elbow him, either for the comment or in belated retaliation for when he did it to her. “Stop trying to use them for your own entertainment,” he admonishes her.
“Well, it’s not like anyone’s kissing me,” she complains, rather dramatically, as she shakes off his hold. “I’m starting to feel lonely and it’s disheartening, especially at this time of year.” She futilely looks around before her eyes land back on Alex, taking on a mischievous light. “At this rate, I’m going to have to settle for you as a last resort.”
It’s a rare miscalculation on her part, trying to bring him into this, because Park’s level-headed to a point that makes even Neil envious (so trying to cause him any sort of discomfort is a lost cause).
And just as Neil predicted, it doesn’t work. All Park does is assess her in his usual, detached manner before saying coolly, “You would be so lucky, Reznick.”
“What!” she snaps, immediately irritated by his easy dismissal. “You’d be the lucky one. Trust me.”
“What is this?” Neil mutters, in aside to Shaun, as the two second-years begin bickering over which one of them would be luckier. “What’s happening here?”
Shaun makes no similar effort to lower his voice. “They both think they would be lucky to kiss each other.”
The argument before them stops cold, with two heads swiveling immediately in Shaun’s direction. The pause is almost comical as they struggle to process the conclusion he’s reached.
“You’re twisting our words,” Park finally says (and at least he’s striving for diplomatic).
“Yeah, that is not what we said!” Morgan’s tone is shrill, even for her (and that’s saying something).
Shaun shrugs, unmoved by their protests. “It’s what I heard.”
Neil’s not about to let this opportunity pass him by, not when he and Shaun have had to put up with months of grief from Morgan (and if Park happens to be collateral damage here, then so be it). “I’m going to have to back up Shaun on this,” he tells them, as Park rubs his eyes and Morgan narrows hers.
“Register my complete and utter shock that you’d take Murphy’s side,” she gripes.
Neil knows he’s not doing a great job of keeping a straight face, but the effort’s there. “I think you’re both protesting too much.”
“Save the psychoanalysis,” she orders, rather sharply. “You’re terrible at it.”
“Alright,” Park sighs, overly loud, “there’s only one way to prove that they’re wrong and we don’t actually want to kiss each other.” He pauses dramatically. “We’ll have to kiss.”
“You—wha—I—” Morgan’s barely able to form a coherent word and it’s a fascinating thing to witness.
“You’ve rendered her practically speechless.” Neil doesn’t bother hiding his admiration. “Let’s make sure we all savor this moment.”
“Are you crazy?” she finally manages to hiss at Park. “We have to kiss to prove we don’t want to kiss? What kind of logic is that?!”
“It makes perfect sense to me,” Neil chimes in, even though it might be one of the most ridiculous things he’s ever heard (which means Park had said it on purpose to get a reaction out of her—and it’s definitely working).
She’s back to borderline sulking. “You’re all acting like I’m desperate or something!”
“You aren’t?” Shaun asks, as Neil coughs to cover his laughter and has to strategically glance away so that he doesn’t completely lose his composure.
“You’re the one who first suggested it,” Alex reminds her, and though Neil can tell the other man is incredibly amused by now, Morgan’s still thrown enough that she fails to notice how her fellow resident has deliberately turned her own game around on her.
“It was a joke. I was joking.” She points accusingly at Neil. “See what you’ve done? You and Murphy have obliterated the boundaries between co-workers around here. Boss and subordinate, resident and resident—” She flings her arms out in dismay, and would have hit Park in the process if he didn’t automatically block her (this time unintentional) hit. “—everything’s chaos!”
Neil feels absolutely no guilt for enjoying how flustered she is—not when she relishes putting others in the exact same state. Still, this can only go on for so long, and if she’s never going to figure it out on her own… “I’m glad you’re not overreacting to Park calling your bluff.”
In the ensuing silence, she opens and closes her mouth a few times, and he can see the gears turning as she realizes (too late) what Alex had done. “I wasn’t over—” She cuts herself off, then turns to Alex and tries to claim, “I knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Sure,” he archly agrees, “we could tell by your inability to speak.”
“You’re misremembering,” she insists, pressing her lips together, but it does nothing to hide the fact that she wants to smile.
“Stop making it so easy,” Park tells her, leaning over to kiss her cheek, and she gives up trying to check her smile altogether. “Why don’t we go dance?”
“You’re just trying to get me to stop harassing them,” she accuses, nodding at Neil and Shaun. “I know how you operate.” (Which makes Neil realize that Park had expertly taken the focus off of them, gaining Morgan’s undivided attention in a way he’s seen few others manage to do.)
“Oh, now you know, but five seconds ago you had no clue?” Park’s rolling his eyes. “Got it.”
“You have already danced together three times,” Shaun tells them, in case they’ve lost count.
“There’s good reason for that, Shaun,” Park says gravely. “I might be the only person here who can stand her for longer than two consecutive minutes. She really has no other options.”
“Wait,” Morgan slyly begins, “so you’re saying that I only spend time with you because you’re literally my last resort?” She’s enjoying his slip way too much. “You realize that you went full circle there and insulted yourself?”
Park thinks about that for a few seconds. “Damn, you’re right. But you’re still lucky that I let you spend time with me.”
“No,” she instantly protests, “you’re the lucky—”
“Can we not have this argument again?” Neil pleads. “I don’t get paid enough for…” He glances between them. “…whatever this is.”
“And he gets paid a lot,” Shaun helpfully supplies.
Park doesn’t laugh, but it’s a near thing. “Alright, Reznick, are you coming with me or should I go find someone more pleasant?”
“Fine. Yes.” She holds up a finger. “As long as you remember my stipulations?” Before he can answer, she starts rattling off a list of demands including (but not limited to) if someone who’s ‘actually important’ wants to dance with her, he has to relinquish her without a fight.
“Alex,” Neil says lowly, as Morgan keeps listing her rules, “thank you.” It’s meant for several things, including distracting her earlier and taking her off their hands right now…though he’s starting to get the feeling that maybe nothing about this is any hardship for Park, after all.
“Do me a favor?” Park smiles wryly. “If you never hear from her again, forget that I was the last person you saw with her.”
“Jokes like that aren’t disconcerting at all to hear from a former cop,” Morgan informs him, and despite the scolding tone, she’s on the verge of laughing. “Also, I would haunt you forever.”
“Talk about a plan backfiring,” he mutters, pushing her ahead of him, off towards the dance floor.
The moment they’re out of sight, Neil turns back to Shaun. “I’m not quite sure what that was, but I liked seeing her off-kilter, for once.”
“He does that to her all the time,” Shaun says, like it’s something he should have noticed. “You should pay more attention.”
Neil has no idea if he’s being admonished or not. “I pay plenty of attention.”
“Yes. To your job. To our patients. To me.” Shaun’s looking in the direction their friends had disappeared. “That’s about it.”
Neil wonders if Shaun has a valid point (probably, he is Shaun). “Maybe I have my priorities straight. Morgan and Park’s—” he casts about for the best word, “—friendship? Is not one of them, as entertaining as it might be.”
“They enjoy pretending as if they dislike each other, but I don’t know why. It’s never convincing.” Shaun shrugs, and then adds, “I am just glad neither of us had to kiss her.”
The sudden topic change jars Neil into remembering that they were the ones who kissed each other, and they should probably talk about it. “Shaun, about that…”
“I think our kiss convinced Morgan,” Shaun says, before he can go on. “She should leave us alone now.”
Neil tilts his head assessingly and forgets everything he’d been about to say. “That was your motivation?”
“She would not stop bothering us. It seemed like the best solution.”
“It did?”
“It worked, which means it was a good solution.”
“Let me try again,” Neil wants to be sure they’re very clear on this point, “that’s the only reason you did it?”
“That, and luck.”
Neil suddenly remembers what he’d wanted to say earlier, before the subject changed. “You don’t believe in luck.”
“You do,” Shaun says simply, “and that is enough reason. For me.”
Shaun doesn’t often leave him speechless, but that…that does. (Neil inexplicably feels like kissing him all over again.)
“I assumed you did it to convince Morgan, as well,” Shaun’s saying, which causes Neil to realize he’d never offered a reason of his own.
“No.” It had crossed his mind at one point, but in the moment, it wasn’t what he’d been thinking (for the part of him that had been consciously thinking at all).
Shaun’s struggling to understand. “If it wasn’t to convince Morgan, was it because of what she said? About tradition and luck?”
“That was part of it,” Neil carefully allows, and it’d be easy to just say yes and leave it at that, to let Shaun think that was the only reason, but it’s not entirely fair. Because while it had been on his mind at the time, it hadn’t been his main reason. He’d done it because… “I thought it would help.” It sounds crazy, saying it out loud, but it’s the truth.
Shaun’s not following him. “Help what?”
“You.” That’s what it always comes back to. It seems he can’t do anything without considering how it will impact (or benefit) Shaun. “You were upset with Morgan, and then when you and I began talking, it was like your agitation started to…disappear. I thought that if I kissed you, then it might help you let go of it entirely.” He shrugs, somewhat lost at his own explanation. “I thought…it’d help you forget.”
Shaun takes that in, glancing up at the mistletoe, then back at Neil. “You did it for me.”
“I had good intentions, but it was admittedly outside of the boundaries for friends.” (Whatever boundaries they still have, that is.)
“Because friends do not kiss each other.”
Neil laughs a little at that. “Not generally, no.”
“But…we are friends.”
“Always,” Neil swears. “We will always be friends. No matter what.”
“Then by that logical progression, friends do kiss each other,” Shaun says, seeming satisfied with his conclusion. “If they want to.”
“Okay,” Neil murmurs, because if Shaun’s fine with what happened, then he is, too. (It’s really, usually, that simple.)
“It did help me,” Shaun continues. “When we kissed, I was not thinking about Morgan.”
Neil abruptly laughs again. “I would hope not. Because if you were, then I’d recommend that the two of you have a conversation.”
“I do not like Morgan romantically,” Shaun tells him, apparently feeling the point needs clarification.
“Who could?” Neil asks flippantly, more out of habit than anything else.
“I told you that you need to pay more attention.”
It takes Neil a few moments to realize Shaun is repeating his point from earlier, and now he’s looking in the direction of the dance floor, and…
“No. No.” Neil adamantly shakes his head—he has enough problems figuring out his own life, he can’t add every single resident to the list, too. “I’m not getting involved in that.”
“Did they ask you to get involved?” Shaun’s interest is piqued. “That would be unusual, but there are people who enjoy—”
“Please stop wherever you’re going with that.” Neil’s used to following Shaun’s unusual jumps in logic, but that one is going too far for him to entertain.
Shaun’s nodding, mostly to himself. “I think they will be fine without you.”
“We can only hope,” Neil agrees, and when Shaun smiles at him, Neil again finds that he has to remind himself…
This isn’t real.
What he and Shaun have, what they present to the world—it isn’t real. What they do have is friendship. A close friendship, to be sure, but that’s it. And it’s not hard for Neil to figure out why he sometimes finds himself slipping into the wrong mindset—it’s because he cares about Shaun immeasurably. It doesn’t help matters that everyone they know thinks (and acts like) they’re actually together. As such, it’s natural that Neil would sometimes get confused, like he did earlier when they kissed. It’s natural that he’d sometimes wonder…what if.
However, Neil knows those are just stray thoughts and nothing more. It’s not like there would ever be real potential between him and Shaun even if he wanted that, because Shaun has no interest in a romantic relationship—not just with Neil, but with anyone. He’s said as much, time and time again. He’d even driven the point home when he explained his motivations for kissing Neil—there had been no hidden feelings in it, just equal parts desire to quiet Morgan and to help secure them some good luck.
All of that is perfectly fine with Neil, because he’s content with the way his life is right now. At times, he thinks he never wants anything to change, even though he knows that’s unrealistic, because he and Shaun will eventually have to break up—or rather, they’ll have to stage a fake break-up. (Which is something they should seriously talk about soon and not just brush off to some distant date and time, like they’d done earlier this evening.)
Deep down, Neil knows why he hasn’t pushed Shaun on that subject more. Why he hasn’t made them confront the reality of what they’re doing and acknowledge that it will eventually have to end. It’s because there are consequences to a break-up—even a fake one. The worst of them is that he and Shaun would be expected to spend some time apart, and even if they insisted to everyone that they were ‘still friends’, they could never get away with acting the way they do nowadays. And it’s all the worse, because they don’t try to do anything to convince people they’re together, this is just how they are. So if (when) they stage a break-up, they’ll have to go out of their way to put distance between themselves. They’ll have to make an effort to try and pretend like they no longer care about each other as much as they do.
Neil had touched upon similar thoughts when he and Shaun were alone on the observation deck, but they hit him even harder now: he doesn’t want to stop acting the way he does with Shaun. Neil could easily put distance between himself and anyone in the world except Shaun. That’s what it always comes down to. It was why he’d never been able to keep their interactions strictly professional; why he’d allowed them to become as close as they had; why he’d thought up this fake relationship idea and then followed through with it (maybe Aaron had been right on that front—maybe they really are crazy). Ultimately, it’s why Neil is unwilling to end things—he’s not ready to pretend like he and Shaun aren’t close, let alone actually avoid him for some predetermined length of time.
(What if he’s never ready? What if he’s never willing to let Shaun go? What would he do then?)
Neil pushes those questions aside, mostly because he doesn’t want to face them. He’s good at avoiding things; he’s had decades to practice. If they’re both happy with the way things are, then what does it matter? They can just continue this…indefinitely. Until whatever bridge in the future they have to cross. (Neil will deal with that when the time comes and not before—he can’t deal with it before, for the simple fact that he doesn’t know how.)
One of the few benefits of their gala, at least, is that it’s easy for Neil to distract himself with other people. Over the course of the next hour, he and Shaun speak with another handful of donors, avoid Marcus as best they can (which means usually not very well), and generally enjoy each other’s company the way they have for the entire evening thus far.
It’s closing in on midnight when Marcus sits down at their table, the same one near the wall that they’d been at two hours earlier. Shaun has moved his chair over so he can lean against Neil’s side, looking about as tired as Neil feels. (They’re fast approaching the point where Neil’s going to call it a night if Shaun doesn’t end it soon.) They’ve just been left by a few people that Neil’s sure they’ve gotten on board to supporting their hospital, and that combined with his growing exhaustion means he’s in no mood for unwarranted criticism from Marcus.
To his surprise, though, when Marcus leans back in his chair to watch them, Neil can’t find any censure in his eyes.
“You’re both here unusually late,” Marcus says, gesturing at them with his nearly empty glass. “I’ve never seen that from you, Neil.”
Neil’s well-aware that Marcus is implying he’s only here this late because of Shaun (which happens to be the truth). “Things are different now.”
“I know what you mean,” Marcus solemnly agrees, as he flicks a glance a few tables over where his wife is laughing with Jessica over something or other. “About things being different.”
Shaun sits up straighter in his chair, stretching his arms. “Who raised the most money?” he asks pointedly, as if the three of them don’t already know the answer.
“You two,” Marcus says, without even a hint of the reluctance Neil’s used to when the other man has to admit something in his favor. “You did exactly what you said you would, going above and beyond even what I expected from either of you. That’s not easy to do.”
“Tell me about it,” Neil mutters. “Is this the part where you take all the credit because you taught us your ‘strategies for success’ or whatever you call it?”
Marcus sends him an arch look. “This is the part where I inform you it was one of the best fundraisers Saint Bonaventure has ever had. It’s the part where I tell you that the board and I are incredibly pleased with you both. That we’re appreciative. And grateful.”
“Appreciative and grateful mean the same thing,” Shaun points out.
It’s twenty seconds into the conversation and Marcus already looks like he regrets seeking them out—it must be some kind of new record. “Just take the win and our thanks, Murphy.”
“You are welcome. But you don’t have to thank me for something I wanted to do.”
“Yes,” Marcus insists, nodding at Neil to let him know he’s included in that, “I do.”
“We’re happy we made a difference,” Neil tells him. “And as you said, it’s getting pretty late, so…”
Marcus, of course, ignores the hint that Neil wants to get out of there. “I know you both have the day off tomorrow,” he begins, “but what do you say to a late lunch with some of our benefactors? A few friends of mine couldn’t make it tonight, but they’re free for lunch tomorrow and I told them they should meet one of our rising stars.”
“It’s kind of you to speak so highly of me,” Neil grins at him, “but I wasn’t aware I could rise any higher.”
Marcus starts to roll his eyes, but turns it into staring at the ceiling, probably in an attempt to remain professional. “I was referring to Shaun.” He finishes the last of his drink and sets it on the table. “Though you were part of that invitation, Neil, as always.” His eyes are unmistakably bright when he adds, “Wherever one of you goes, the other inevitably follows.”
“No,” Shaun interrupts their conversation.
Marcus pauses, unused to that answer from Shaun. “…No?”
“As you said, tomorrow is our day off.” He’d started by speaking slowly, but is quickly gaining momentum. “I cannot speak for Neil, but I do not want to go to lunch with donors. If you would like, I will meet with them later this week. At the hospital.”
When Marcus glances at Neil for his input, he confirms, “That goes for both of us.”
Marcus seems a little puzzled, but rather than try to convince them (or worse, lecture them) he merely takes it in stride. “Okay, I’ll set it up and let you know.” He gets to his feet when he hears his wife calling to him. “I want you both to enjoy your day off and get some well-earned rest,” he generously allows, as if he’s the one who decided they shouldn’t have a working lunch the next day.
“We will,” Shaun says, as Marcus nods at them and leaves.
“I love that Andrews feels like he’s doing us a favor by letting us keep our day off as an actual day off.” Neil turns to Shaun, unable to help his smile at how pleased his resident is with himself. “Good job saying no, Murphy.”
“I enjoyed it very much.” Shaun’s voice is bordering on excited at this new world of possibilities. “I think I’m going to say it a lot more.”
“So long as it’s not to me.”
Shaun won’t let that slide. “That depends on what you are asking.”
Neil thinks about it. “So all I have to do is ask questions where I know the answer is yes? That’s easy. How about this: am I your favorite attending?”
Shaun stares at him for a few seconds. “You are my only attending.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Neil smirks at him while Shaun seems distinctly unimpressed. “Second question: did you enjoy tonight?”
Shaun seriously considers the question before nodding. “I did. Many aspects of it were still difficult, but as I’ve told you…you make things easier. I also liked spending time with our friends. And raising money.”
“More money means less people die,” Neil says, in a rare instance where he beats Shaun to the punch.
“Less people die,” Shaun repeats in affirmation.
“I was surprised to find myself enjoying the gala, too,” Neil tells him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m never going to love this kind of thing—”
“Nor will I,” Shaun interjects.
Neil smiles and taps his fingers on the back of Shaun’s hand in acknowledgement. “I know. But I liked it a lot more than I thought was possible before tonight. That’s mostly because of you.”
“Then we feel exactly the same way,” Shaun tells him, and sometimes Neil wonders how they got here, to this place where they’ve become such close friends. Where they care about each other as much as they do. (Though maybe the how doesn’t matter as much as the fact that they made it here at all—and Neil’s incredibly glad they did.)
“Alright, third and final question. And probably the easiest one.” Neil settles back in his chair, taking out his phone, and when Shaun leans into his side again, he angles it towards him. “What do you say, Murphy,” he pulls up the app for his car service, “want to get out of here?”
Shaun doesn’t hesitate for that question at all, smiling against Neil’s shoulder when he answers, “Yes. I do.”
Chapter 8
Notes:
This begins a new arc which will span a few chapters - after that, things should be winding towards the end. (Yes, I do have an ending in sight and the vaguest of plans on how to get there. ;) As always, thanks so much to everyone for the feedback and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!
Chapter Text
“You. Are. Pathetic.”
“Did I ask for your opinion?” Neil studiously avoids looking in Audrey’s direction. “On anything?”
She’s smirking at him—he’s not even facing her and he can tell. “I’ve found that when you don’t ask is when you need my input the most.”
He drops his phone onto the couch next to him and finally spares her a glance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Let me rephrase it so that you understand me better.” She begins speaking even more obnoxiously slowly than before. “You are extremely pathetic.”
Neil launches a throw pillow at her head after deciding that offense is the best defense—she deftly deflects it with an elbow.
“Compelling argument.” She’s entirely unfazed by his attack as she neatly crosses her legs on the couch opposite him. “I’m effectively swayed.”
“I’m well-known for my powers of persuasion,” he agrees, picking up his phone again and trying to conceal a frown when he still sees no new messages. (Showing any kind of reaction definitely won’t help his cause.)
He and Audrey are in New York, at the most interminable medical conference on the planet. For starters, it’s five days long. Five. Days. On top of that, they’d had to fly out a day early to avoid storms in the northeast, and based on current weather forecasts, their return trip on Sunday is most likely going to be delayed, as well. That means, when all is said and done, it’s looking like this trip will be almost a full week long. (Though does the length really matter when Neil’s finite supply of patience ran out somewhere around six minutes after he boarded the plane?)
He usually doesn’t mind conferences because they have numerous benefits: they’re great for reviewing the latest advancements and techniques; they let him reconnect with colleagues and friends in his field who are based outside of California; they can even substitute for vacations, with everything paid for while also providing him a respite from Saint Bonaventure (and his irritating colleagues—or at least the ones he doesn’t have to occasionally drag along with him).
This conference is different, though. It spans too many days, for one thing (he likes the ones that last two or three days max—the equivalent of a long weekend). There are also too many ‘required’ dinners and meetings and panels. Plus, there are just too many people around. There’s nowhere he can find peace except in his own hotel room—and half the time not even then, with the way people are always calling and emailing him: his colleagues back home, other attendees of the conference, and worst of all…Marcus.
Their boss has been his most frequent harasser, requesting meticulous summaries of each event Neil attends. He’s half-convinced Marcus only demands them because he knows how much Neil hates giving them (and their boss conveniently—and suspiciously—never asks for the same from Audrey).
In the end, Neil’s finding almost everything about this conference aggravating. There are plenty of lectures he wants to hear (many he finds engaging, even), but it’s not enough to make up for all that’s annoying him. By necessity, he and Audrey keep having to split up to cover all the panels they’re supposed to attend and that means there’s no buffer between him and other people (one of his favorite things to do when he’s dealing with someone he doesn’t like is to introduce Audrey and then quickly find an excuse that requires him to be anywhere else).
None of that is to say that things are better on the occasions he and Audrey are together, because she doesn’t let anything slide with him. They’ve been friends for so long that she feels it’s her right to call him on everything and he just can’t take it any—
“I see you looking at your phone again,” she cuts into his thoughts, and he regrets that he already threw the only pillow at her that was within reach. (It’s not worth the energy to get up and find another one.)
They’d gotten back to Audrey’s room only an hour before, setting up in the living room of her suite (yes, Marcus booked her a suite—tell Neil their boss doesn’t like literally everyone better than him). They’re on opposite couches, facing each other across a coffee table scattered with papers, books, and various reference materials, because even with all the technology available in today’s age, the presenters love having physical packets to hand out to everyone at each panel.
Which reminds Neil that Audrey’s presenting her paper tomorrow and he’s supposed to be—oh…right. Listening to her. Providing helpful critiques and general feedback (that better be positive, Melendez, or I will throw you off my balcony, he vaguely recalls her saying).
And that’s not getting into the fact that Audrey has a balcony while Neil gets a window that doesn’t even open.
“Sorry,” he tells her, trying to sound sincere, “you have my attention, I swear.”
Except now she’s the one ignoring him as she types away on her phone, and before he can point out her hypocrisy, she leans forward and flips it around so he can see what she’s been doing.
Melendez is pathetic, reads the message on the screen. And she’d sent it to —
Marcus freaking Andrews.
Yup, he definitely regrets throwing that pillow. Maybe he’ll get up, retrieve it from the floor next to her, sit back down on the couch, and then throw it at her again. (Though if he puts that much effort into it, she might see it coming.)
“Thanks for texting our boss, Audrey. I appreciate it.” He picks up his phone to text Andrews: I am not pathetic.
He’s not. He knows he’s not. Except…he really kind of is and Audrey calls him on these things and —
Neil hates this conference. That’s the problem. It’s too long and he’s miserable and he misses home. He’s not used to missing home like this—honestly, it’s never been a problem for him before. He likes traveling and enjoys the opportunity to break out of his routine, but for some reason this trip is the most difficult one he’s been on in a long time. (Years. Decades. Ever?)
It would have been infinitely more enjoyable if Shaun had come along. They could have chosen their favorite panels to attend and discussed the newest developments with others in their field—it feels like most of Neil’s time so far has been spent thinking Shaun would love this. Sure, Neil enjoys it, too, but if he experienced it with Shaun? Getting excited about things with him…or just spending time with him, in general, is always preferable to Neil. But Shaun’s not here to do any of that with. Not here to share meals with or unwind together at the end of the day. Not here to talk to—about anything. (Such as complaining about Audrey and Marcus and this trip in general—all of which is completely justified.)
Shaun’s just…not here.
And Neil hates it.
Audrey’s grinning and actively typing on her phone again, most likely still talking to Marcus. (Good, the two of them can bond over how miserable he is, because that’s the kind of life Neil has.)
“Be honest.” Audrey draws his attention away from checking his phone for messages that he doesn’t have. “How unhappy are you right now? On a scale of one to ten? For reference, one would be anywhere with Shaun right next to you, and ten would be, well…” She waves a hand at him. “You in New York. With Shaun some 2,500 miles away.”
Neil just stares at her until she mutters, “Ten isn’t enough. I’m going with twelve.” She caps that off with an emphatic double tap on her phone and Neil sits up straighter when he realizes she typed 1 and 2. She must have. She’s sending his score of misery to Marcus! (He’s never going to another conference with her again.)
“I’m never going to another conference with you again,” Neil says, because thinking it wasn’t enough.
Audrey doesn’t bother responding to that, though she does start snickering at her phone (probably at something Marcus wrote back mocking him—maybe they’re laughing about how Audrey gets a luxury suite and Neil gets the equivalent of a walk-in closet).
He’s desperate for some kind of subject change. “Why does Andrews let us have the same day off about once a year, yet we can both have the same week off for a conference?”
“Because Marcus changes the rules based on how he feels. So…hourly,” she answers, which is more or less accurate. “Also, I don’t know why you’re whining—”
“I’m not whining.” He merely sounds…petulant. (Which is much more dignified, right?)
She looks down her nose at him. “Do I need to remind you that I’m technically replacing our boss? Before I was asked to present, Marcus was supposed to be on this trip. If I had declined, he’d be the one sitting across from you right now. Take a moment to imagine that.” She affords Neil a few seconds and he involuntarily shudders. “Exactly. You’d be complaining to him instead of me—”
“I haven’t been complaining!” (He really hasn’t been and he marvels at her ability to twist the facts to fit her narrative.) “You’re the one who’s been harassing me, for three days now, because you don’t think I’ve been acting thrilled enough about this trip.”
“Fine…you’ve been wordlessly complaining—”
“That’s not a thing.”
Her look is so scathing that Neil actually cringes. “It’s very much a thing and we both know Andrews wouldn’t humor you the way I do—”
“This is humoring me?” he can’t help scoffing.
“Believe me, letting you stay in my room is humoring you. Andrews would have kicked you out long ago.”
“Back to the broom closet he has me in?” Great, now he’s sulking. (His evening just keeps getting worse.)
“It’s a normal hotel room, Neil, just like mine.” Audrey’s so patronizing that Neil grits his teeth in response. “So what if my room is slightly bigger—”
“You have two rooms and a balcony with a hot tub!”
“Which is extremely relaxing.” She’s trying to hold back her amusement. “No doubt Marcus realized how much I’d have to deal with this week and wanted to ensure I could deal with the insanely high stress levels that you cause.”
“What about my stress levels?”
“Go back to talking to Shaun,” she sweetly suggests. “That’ll help you.”
Neil checks his phone and resists the urge to throw it against the wall. “I can’t talk to him if he won’t answer me.”
He instantly regrets admitting the issue when Audrey’s eyes widen a little in recognition; it’s the first time he’s outright acknowledged one of the reasons he’s so on edge. (Though the problem isn’t so much that Shaun’s not answering him, it’s that his contact with his resident has been drastically reduced and there’s nothing Neil can do about it.)
“I’m sure he’s just busy… I didn’t realize how much the distance was bothering you.” She sounds almost apologetic and it only serves to make him feel worse, because if he’s garnering genuine sympathy from Audrey Lim (who’s much more likely to laugh and call him pathetic, as seen already this evening), then he must really be a sight.
Neil doesn’t bother denying it, either. (He knows a lost cause when he sees one…even if it’s him.) “I look that bad, huh?”
She barely keeps herself from grimacing. “Worse. And I can say that because I’m your friend.”
“It’s… I’m not…” He sighs and gives up. There’s no point trying to explain something to her that he can’t adequately explain to himself.
Audrey waves her phone at him. “Maybe this will help. Andrews says, and I quote, ‘Tell Melendez that Murphy has been equally lackluster since you two left’.”
“He—what?” That gives Neil pause because Shaun hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort and Neil’s been gone for almost three full days. (And if Shaun really is unhappy, why has it been hours since he last texted?)
“Lackluster,” she repeats in monotone. “I’m guessing that adjective was chosen to replace some other description he knew you’d object to, like ‘annoying as hell’. Which, not coincidentally, is how I’d describe you this week.”
“I’m not annoying,” Neil automatically denies, even though he knows he is, he’s just past the point of caring (or trying to stop it). “And neither is Shaun.”
She stares at him in disbelief. “Neil.”
“Okay,” he relents, no longer able to keep a straight face, “yes, he can drive Marcus up the wall even on his best days.” His grin gets wider. “Personally, I consider it one of Murphy’s best qualities.”
“Of course you do,” she says archly. “Remember, he does that when you’re there. Now imagine a week of Shaun without you and how Marcus is dealing with that.”
Forget Marcus, how is Shaun dealing with it?
Neil shifts uncomfortably on the couch before muttering, “I hope Murphy still has a job when we get back.”
If he doesn’t make light of the situation, he’ll have to think seriously about what Audrey said and that will only serve to make him more agitated, contemplating how Shaun might be equally as miserable without him and—too late, now he’s thinking about it and it’s making him feel worse and this is exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. He leans his head on the back of the couch, shutting his eyes and taking a calming breath.
“Marcus will never let him go,” Audrey says, in answer to his joke. “Which means he’ll also never let you go.”
Neil catches her veiled insinuation and can’t help smiling up at the ceiling (which he swears is nicer than the one in his room—how is that even possible?). “I like that you think my job security depends entirely on how much Shaun Murphy likes me.”
“Because it probably does,” she quips.
“I’ll make sure I keep bribing him to rave about what a stellar attending I am.”
She shakes her head in admonishment, amused though it is. “It’s a wonder to me that they continue letting you have residents, Neil.”
“Hmm, I’m remembering a time when you had the residents cover you being ‘on call’ when you were in court and then…what was it? Oh yes. Jail.”
“Why do I tell you things?” she complains.
That answer is easy. “Alcohol.”
“I’ve made the decision to become sober,” she announces. “I’m never drinking again.” She looks longingly at her wine glass on the coffee table before picking it up and taking a long sip. “After this glass,” she amends.
“Where did you even get that?” He’s only now registering the half-empty bottle on the table between them. (Apparently he’d been preoccupied with other things.) “Did you bring that with you on the plane?”
“Marcus had it sent to my room as a gift.” Audrey glances at him over the top of the glass, asking innocently, “You didn’t get a bottle?”
“You know damn well I didn’t.” When she holds a hand out to indicate he should help himself to the wine, he shakes his head. “No thanks. I’m raiding the mini-bar for the rest of the trip, though. I’ve definitely earned it after this interminable week—”
“We’ve been in New York for three days.”
“It feels like much longer.”
“If I’d known you’d spend the entire time sulking, I’d never have agreed to come.”
Neil reminds himself that this trip isn’t about him—or rather, it shouldn’t be. (He really is happy for her, it’s just that other things are overshadowing it right now.) “You get to present your latest paper at one of the most prestigious annual conferences,” he reminds her. “That’s an honor.”
Audrey’s watching him with some sort of resignation. “It’s not worth what I’ve had to put up with.”
“You’re not helping my mood.”
“What would help your mood?” she challenges. “Besides the magical appearance of a certain resident whom you can’t seem to function without?”
Neil sighs loudly, pressing his hands to his face and letting himself fall sideways so he’s lying on the couch. (His room can’t even fit one couch and Audrey’s ‘living room’ has four.) “This isn’t only about Shaun,” he tries to claim. “I’ve always hated conferences.”
“Since when?” she accuses, because damn, he forgot she remembers past events just like almost every other human on the planet—she’s been to many conferences with him and she’s right that he doesn’t hate conferences.
“I hate this one,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and refusing to look at her (not that she’s ever needed him to in order to determine how truthful he’s being). “Who plans one for five days?”
“It’s not unusual when it’s an association’s annual event. We’ve been to plenty that were this long over the years.”
“So what, because I liked the others, I have to like this one, too? It’s some kind of requirement that I must always love conferences now?” He glares at her. “Who made up that stupid rule?”
“Oh boy, I’m upping your score to fifteen,” she mutters, even going so far as to type it into her phone to drive her point home.
“Stop texting Andrews!”
“No, I’m taking matters into my own hands. I’m telling him that I am never traveling with you again—”
“You can’t make that threat to me when I just made the exact same one to you—”
“—unless Shaun comes along,” she talks right over him.
That stops Neil in his metaphorical tracks. “Oh. Well. I might be able to live with that.”
“I thought you might,” she says, mouth curving up at whatever she’s reading on her phone. “Oh, this is rich. Marcus says it’s a phenomenal idea that he’d already settled on before I suggested it.” She arches a brow at him. “He actually used that word, Neil. Phenomenal.”
Neil finds himself focusing on one particular thing she’d said. “What do you mean he’d already settled on it? Why would he agree to something that’s technically…unnecessary?”
“Trust me,” Audrey spares him a dark glance, though it’s not without humor, “it’s necessary. And to your first question, he had some incentive.”
It takes Neil all of three seconds to parse out that cryptic statement. “Shaun.”
Audrey’s nodding. “He claims Shaun is driving him even more insane than you’re driving me, but I don’t know if such a thing is possible. He and I are going to trade horror stories when we get home.”
Neil ignores the slight. “If Shaun had come along, this trip would be…” Easier? More tolerable? Actually enjoyable? Whatever the best description is, Neil wouldn’t be crawling out of his skin and counting the 65 hours until he gets home on Sunday.
“Better?”
It takes Neil a second to realize she’s filled in the end of his sentence, and he looks at her sharply, but there’s no hint that she’s aware of how true that is, both for him and for Shaun. (Or that it’s a topic they’ve discussed before using that exact word.)
“Please, Neil, you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.” Despite her promise to give up alcohol after her current glass, she’s refilling her wine. “It’s no secret that you two have become borderline codependent.”
He’s not sure if he should be offended at her description. “That term has a negative connotation—”
“God, you’re impossible,” Audrey interrupts, rather huffily. “You’re half of the relationship, Neil, so you must know that I meant it in a positive way.” She takes another long sip of her wine before adding, “Register my complete lack of surprise that you two would manage to turn it into a good thing.”
Neil considers arguing, mostly on principle, but he ultimately can’t. He knows what she means and she’s not wrong. His and Shaun’s lives have become progressively more intertwined over the past few months and it’s undeniable that things are better for both of them when they’re together, as opposed to apart. (While he knows that some would argue that’s not an entirely healthy thing, Audrey’s right: Neil is half of the relationship and he can confidently say it’s not detrimental to either of them…quite the opposite, in fact.)
Neil checks his phone for the umpteenth time. No new messages. Shaun rarely goes this long without answering unless he has a legitimate reason. He’d promised to text Neil when his shift ended, but that should have been two hours ago, so he must have had to stay late.
After receiving no replies to his last few messages, Neil had been trying not to text again until he knew Shaun was free, but to hell with it. (He’s really curious about what Shaun’s been doing that had convinced Marcus to send them both on the same trips from here on out.)
What have you been doing to Andrews? he texts Shaun, hoping he’ll get a faster response to this message than his previous ones.
A few moments later, Audrey bursts out laughing on the couch across the way. “This is from Marcus: Neil just texted Murphy, didn’t he? I literally lost him mid-sentence. He pulled out his phone when it buzzed and then walked away from me MID-SENTENCE.” She sends Neil a significant look. “That last ‘mid-sentence’ is in all capitals, mind you.”
“Shaun walking away from us while we’re speaking isn’t exactly a new thing,” Neil reminds her, vastly amused at the mental image of Shaun doing it to their astonished boss. “I told you that annoying Andrews is one of his best qualities.”
Neil thinks she’s rolling her eyes, but he’s not quite sure because his attention is diverted by a new message from Shaun which reads: I will text you in 5 minutes.
But you JUST texted me, Neil writes back in quick reply (which he’s not surprised Shaun ignores). He pretends not to notice the way Audrey’s smirking at him—she can obviously tell, from the way he’s smiling at his phone, that he’s finally gotten an answer from the only person he wants to talk to right now. (Or most of the time, to be honest.)
Since he has to wait for Shaun, he decides to message their boss, just to admonish him: Maybe you should try to be more engaging if you don’t want your employees vanishing before you finish talking to them.
Not even thirty seconds later, he gets a reply text from Marcus that he can practically hear in his head: MAYBE I am going to send the two of you to every event remotely related to your field that I can find GLOBALLY from now on just so you’re away for most of the year and I never have to deal with either of you.
You love us, Neil writes back.
Present your proof, Melendez.
That won’t take much effort—Andrews must be really tired tonight (thank you, Murphy, for wearing him down) if he’s offering such an easy challenge. Neil simply reminds him of how much money they’d raised during the holiday gala. Normally, Marcus would argue anything with him, but this involves money and if there’s one topic he always takes seriously, it’s money.
Sure enough, the next text from Marcus proves Neil right: You raise a valid point, Neil. Yes, I love…that you’re both such effective fundraisers. Keep proving your worth and I’ll keep approving your (reasonable) requests. Also, thanks for the reminder to get started on our May fundraiser.
Why would I care? Neil writes back, hoping his scoffing tone comes through in the text. I’m still not on the planning committee.
Sure you’re not. I’ll touch base with Reznick and let you know, but I’m thinking a spring theme.
Neil actually does scoff out loud at that before typing, Spring, huh? What an original theme. FOR MAY. (Maybe these people really do need him if that’s the best they can come up with.)
Marcus predictably doesn’t respond to his taunt, and before Neil can think of something even more deliberately aggravating to say, he receives a message from Shaun in answer to his earlier question asking what he’d been doing to their boss: I do not understand your question. I have not been doing anything to Dr. Andrews.
Besides irritating him? Neil writes back. Maybe don’t walk away from him when he’s talking to you.
Neil knows by now that it’s a futile endeavor, but he can try anyways. (He’d also warn Shaun about potentially getting in trouble, but Marcus is still riding high from their record-setting fundraiser and all the fawning from the board that came with it—as such, he’s about as likely to scold Shaun as he is to book Neil a suite on one of these trips.)
Maybe if he didn’t insult you, Shaun replies, I would have stayed.
Neil pauses, mind whirling at that information as he glances at Audrey and thinks back over the last half hour. Luckily, he’s able to figure it out quickly—it helps that he knows Marcus doesn’t actually dislike him that much, not enough to outright insult him (and even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be reckless enough to do it to Shaun’s face).
Did Marcus tell you that Audrey was complaining about me? Neil asks.
He said you are insufferable and that he doesn’t know how I ‘put up with you’. That is when you texted me, so I took the opportunity to excuse myself from the conversation.
Neil smiles at that twisting of facts: Shaun ‘excused himself from the conversation’. Sure he did. However, he’s more focused on Shaun’s unhappiness with how Marcus described him, which is only a paraphrase of Audrey’s complaints. Neil's well-aware that the younger man is more upset at the insinuation Neil is someone he has to tolerate than at any perceived insult Marcus tosses his way.
Neil knows he has to correct his resident’s wrong assumptions, but all he feels is affection at the blatant reminder of how defensive Shaun gets on his behalf—and never more so than when it’s related to their personal relationship. (As if the same thing isn’t true, and ten times worse, in the opposite direction.)
He composes a message explaining the conversations they’d all been having, informs Shaun that neither Audrey nor Marcus truly meant to insult him (or so he hopes), and waits impatiently for a response.
Okay, Shaun finally answers, causing Neil to irritably tap his fingers on the arm of the couch—not due to the curtness, which isn’t unusual for Shaun, but because it feels like the end of their current conversation. And he’s really not ready to be done talking yet. This is the best he’s felt all night. All week. Able to forget the fact that he’s so far away from home, able to forget —
He pushes those thoughts aside, remembering what Audrey had told him earlier: that Marcus couldn’t deal with Shaun the same way Audrey couldn’t deal with him.
It spurs him to ask, How boring is it there without me?
He gets no response for a minute. Then two. Then five.
Maybe Shaun is busy again, or hasn’t seen the notifications. Maybe he’s heading home, or —
I miss you.
Neil’s breath stutters and fades out when he reads Shaun’s latest message. So he reads it again. And again.
Because Shaun’s encapsulated in three words the exact problem here. What Neil’s been actively trying not to think about for three days, ever since he boarded a plane in California. Not just that Shaun isn’t here, but that Neil’s not there, back home, with Shaun. Even Audrey had been wrong about this one—it’s not the distance that’s bothering Neil, it’s the separation that’s making this trip so difficult.
Shaun misses him, and he misses Shaun so much that he hasn’t even allowed himself to put it into words—to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else. All he can do is type, with fingers that have oddly gone numb: I miss you, too.
Rather than replying to that directly, Shaun responds with a message confirming Neil’s guess from earlier—he had to stay late and Alex has offered to give him a ride home, so he’ll call later.
Audrey hums from behind (and slightly above) him; Neil tips his head back to find that she’s reading the messages on his phone over his shoulder.
“Invasion of privacy,” he complains, trying to regulate his breathing into something more normal as he forces himself to set down his phone.
“It’s not an invasion if I already knew it was true,” Audrey tries to claim, sweeping around him to gather up some papers from the coffee table as she retakes her seat. “As you know, the last thing I want right now is a serious relationship, and yet I have to admit…there are times when I’m slightly envious of you two.” She picks up her wine and watches it swirl in the glass, but her eyes are distant, like she’s seeing something else. “We should all be so lucky.”
Neil’s irritation with her vanishes as he considers her confession. It’s the same type of sentiment that he’d heard from Morgan not long ago, the night of their holiday gala. He’s also heard similar things from others over the past six months or so. For whatever reason, people seem to enjoy telling him that they envy his and Shaun’s relationship.
As he thinks about it, Neil’s surprised to realize that he envies it, too. If he had this kind of relationship with someone he considered a romantic partner…that would complete his life in a way that he’d always wanted—in a way he always thought he’d have found by now.
But that’s not what Shaun is—not to him. They are not that to each other, no matter what they tell the world. And it’s fine, it really is, but he wonders if he’ll find that someday. Or if Shaun will. (He wants it for Shaun even more than himself, because Shaun deserves it. He deserves that type of unconditional love from someone who holds him in the same high esteem that Neil does.)
“He’s fine, Neil,” Audrey says kindly, able to tell that his thoughts have turned more melancholy, though she hasn’t correctly guessed why. “He’ll be there when we get home and he’ll be okay.”
“I know,” he acknowledges. “I just…” worry. That might be the worst part of this trip—he can’t stop thinking about what’s happening back home while he’s not there, or more specifically, what Shaun’s doing while he’s away. What if something comes up, some problem or issue, and Shaun could use his help? The thought of the younger man needing him and Neil not being there…it pulls at him, in a rather painful way.
No, Shaun doesn’t ‘need’ him in the sense that he’s helpless on his own (that has never been and will never be true), but over the past year Shaun has allowed himself to need Neil in a different way. He’s allowed Neil to become his mentor and friend and protector, all wrapped up into one. It had taken a lot for Shaun to do that—to let down his guard, extend that type of trust, and let Neil into his life in a way he never has with anyone else, not even Aaron.
As such, the only thing Neil wants to do is fulfill the mostly unspoken agreement between them—that if Shaun needs anything, ever, Neil will be there for him. No questions asked. (Apparently, when Neil’s denied the ability to do that, even if only temporarily, he doesn’t handle it very well.)
“You just what?” Audrey’s tone has changed from the joking one earlier, her head propped on her hand as she studies him. It’s her sincere curiosity that compels him to be honest.
“I’m not there. If he needs something. If he needs…” Neil exhales slowly. “…me.”
“He has Aaron,” Audrey reminds him. “He has Claire. Jessica. Alex and Morgan and that other girl he always goes on about…Lea? And even Marcus. He has them if he needs them.”
“Yeah,” Neil unhappily agrees, “I know.”
“Do you?” she lightly challenges. “Because I could keep going and name a few dozen more people at our hospital who would help Shaun Murphy with anything. Who would defend him against anyone.”
“I know,” he repeats. “And I believe you. But…they’re not me.”
“I get it.” She leans forward a little, eyes piercing in a way that means she’s about to say something serious. “I’ve known you for a long time, seen you in a handful of relationships—the most serious before now being Jess, of course. And yet I’ve never seen you like this.”
He bristles at her words, feeling suddenly defensive. “I’m not—”
“That wasn’t a dig,” she quickly interrupts. “All I mean is that I’ve never seen you in love the way that you are with Shaun.”
Neil bites back his automatic reaction denying it—everyone already believes they are, so refuting it would be counterproductive at this point. (Even though they aren’t in love. Obviously.)
“Don’t forget that I know you, too,” he warns her. “Which means I can tell you’re trying to get at something here. So just come out with it.”
“You already know,” she informs him. “You said it a minute ago—he needs you. But more importantly, to my mind? You need him. You two have become…necessary to each other.”
Morgan had once said the same thing, back when he and Shaun first started this, and Neil wonders if the two women had been talking to each other about them…or maybe it’s more simple than that.
Maybe they’d both seen it because it’s the truth.
“Shaun’s life is…incredibly difficult at times,” he tells Audrey, acknowledging what she’s said in a roundabout way. “More difficult, in many ways, than yours or mine, or any of our other residents, because he has to deal with things that the rest of us don’t. Shaun would actually be the first to admit that, since it’s just a statement of fact and he rarely shies away from the truth. He has to work twice as hard at a lot of things that come naturally to others—to people without autism. And he’s definitely put in the time and effort to compensate. To better understand people. To learn the best ways to react in any situation. He’s come a long way in that regard, but it’s still a lot of work for him, and he still has to deal with a multitude of other things on top of that.”
Audrey finishes her drink, glances at the wine bottle, then seems to decide against it as she sets down her empty glass. “He told me a little about what a typical day is like for him. A few months back, we were discussing a patient in one of the breakrooms and he kept losing his train of thought because the vent over us was malfunctioning and it was unusually cold. I asked if that kind of thing distracted him a lot, and he ran down a list of things that bothered him, or otherwise kept him from being able to think clearly. Then he added things people had said and done that made him uncomfortable or left him confused—and when he was done, do you know what floored me the most?”
“I bet I can guess,” Neil says grimly. “They were all from that day, weren’t they?”
She nods in amazement, though Neil’s not sure if it’s at the memory or at his correct conclusion. “It was eye-opening, Neil. I knew he had his own daily challenges, but I had no idea what it was truly like for him. The stressors in that boy’s life are insane. And you know how he ended his summation?” When Neil shakes his head, unable to guess this time, she smiles in a way that he might consider the kindest one he’s ever seen from her. “He said that he was fine. He said that you helped with most of those things. He said that even when you didn’t realize it, something as simple as spending a few minutes with you during a terrible day was enough to put him at ease. So yes, Neil, in case you’ve ever doubted it…you are necessary to him.”
Neil needs a minute to take that in. He and Shaun have spoken about similar things in the past, and Neil’s always been aware of their overwhelmingly positive impact on each other, but his resident has never outright told him any of the things that Audrey’s telling him right now. It’s also making Neil resent this trip all the more, hearing about the numerous ways Shaun quietly relies on him and knowing that they’ll still be apart for at least three more days.
“It’s not easy for me to…not be there,” Neil admits. “I didn’t realize how difficult it would be until we actually left.” (Which probably has a lot to do with the fact that it’s been half a year since he and Shaun spent any significant amount of time apart—the last time they’d been separated by a trip like this had been before they began pretending to be in a relationship, and while they’d still been friends, they hadn’t been as integral to each other’s lives as they are now.)
“You need to be needed,” Audrey says bluntly (and rather astutely). “That’s the other point I was trying to make: allowing people to depend on you is at the core of who you are. It’s how you show people you care. How you operate.” She smiles at the unintentional pun before clarifying, “Not in an O.R., but in your daily life with your family, your friends, your patients… It always surprised me that I never saw it in your romantic relationships before now.”
They’re both aware that she’s mostly talking about Jessica. “Yeah,” he agrees on a sigh. “I always gravitated towards the most independent people in my orbit, because it felt like…there was something wrong with wanting to take care of people—not professionally, but personally. It felt like a weakness, if that makes sense. It’s kind of drilled into us that relationships should be 50/50: equal work all the time. It took me a long time to realize that’s almost never reality, and more importantly, that it’s okay that it’s not reality. Everyone has different needs and they often change by the day—some days you can give all of yourself, some days you can barely manage one percent. It ebbs and flows and it’s a rare day that both people can contribute equally.”
“Personally, I like putting minimal effort into relationships,” Audrey claims, even managing a straight face. “Letting my partner do all the work is fine with me.”
“Funny, Audrey,” he says wryly, as she laughs at her off-color joke. (They both know that in all seriousness, she’s more like him than not.) “My drive to take care of people is something that I’ll never be able to change. If I’m not doing that, if I’m not allowed to do that, then it feels like…something’s missing.”
“It was missing with Jessica,” she adds, since he stopped just shy of saying it.
“That and a lot of other things,” he allows. (Audrey knows most of them, so there’s no need to get back into all of it now.) “Our break-up hurt. A lot. But I’m glad it ended when it did, because if it hadn’t? God forbid, if we’d gotten married? We’d be heading towards the end, sooner or later, and it would have been that much worse if we’d let it happen later.”
“I’m not saying you and Jessica didn’t work, because you did, in a different way. But you and Shaun complement each other in ways you and Jess never could have.” Audrey’s studying him in that eerie way she has that makes him think he could never hide anything from her. (Yet he is, because she has no idea that he and Shaun aren’t really together—if she so much as suspected his relationship with Shaun was a front, she’d have lost it on him a long time ago.) “Do you think this is it?” she asks.
Neil’s momentarily lost, too busy thinking of how accurate she is in her assessment of why his and Shaun’s relationship (their friendship) works so well. “Do I think what’s it?”
She sighs, though it’s mostly fond. “Shaun. Is this it for you?”
Neil freezes at the question, though he should have expected it was coming, considering what they’d been talking about. It makes sense she’d want to know what they planned for the future.
He can’t lie to her, either. He can’t try to downplay things or pretend like Shaun isn’t as important to him as he is—if he even attempted it, she’d know immediately. (More than that, the mere idea of lying in that way feels wrong.)
In the end, all he can do is tell her the absolute truth, which is… “I can’t envision any future for me that doesn’t have him in it.” (Because he always plans to be in Shaun’s life—so long as Shaun wants him there.)
Audrey seems immensely pleased with his answer, like it’s something she’s known for a long time and has been waiting for him to confirm. “Then ask him to marry you already! Everyone can tell that’s where you’re heading.”
“They can, huh?” Strangely enough, her suggestion doesn’t throw him half as much as her previous question had. (He must be getting really good at playing off these kinds of inquiries into their relationship.)
She’s nodding at him. “I don’t know what you’re waiting for.”
Neil takes a moment to briefly picture that imaginary version of the future. What it’d be like to have Shaun with him forever. Always being there for each other, no matter what. Never having to worry that one day they might no longer be in each other’s lives. He idly wonders how difficult it’d be to sell Shaun on the idea of a fake marriage and it’s jarring to realize how easy it’d be to talk himself into it, never mind convince Shaun that it’d be the best thing for both of them.
He quickly snaps himself out of it, because the entire idea is insane. Pretending to be in a relationship is one thing—and it’s easy to end whenever they decide it’s necessary. But a marriage of convenience isn’t even in the same realm. Shaun might still be adamant about not wanting a romantic relationship with anyone right now, but things could always change. In the year and a half that they’ve known each other, Neil’s seen him alter plenty of his formerly concrete opinions, so it’s not inconceivable that one day Shaun might want to attempt a real relationship with someone else. Neil is never going to be the person who stands in the way of Shaun finding that kind of happiness—he cares about Shaun too much to ever do that to him.
“Well?” Audrey asks, breaking into his thoughts. When he stares at her blankly, she snaps, rather impatiently, “Marriage?”
“That’s a long way off,” Neil says vaguely. “If ever.”
Audrey’s far from satisfied with that answer. “So you’re saying I’m talking to the wrong person about this?”
He tries to glare her into submission. “Audrey.”
“No, I understand,” she continues breezily. “I’ll bring it up to Shaun—I can probably convince him to ask you instead.”
“We’re done talking about this,” Neil says, with as much resolve as he can manage (and a mental note to warn Shaun about Audrey’s new plan). He’s literally saved by the bell when his phone chimes and he sighs with relief when he sees it’s Shaun again. Finally. “Shaun’s on his way home and he’s going to call me when he gets there.”
“Then you should go back to your room,” she says, waving at the door. “Not only because I don’t want to listen to your half of a lovesick conversation, but because I’m going to go enjoy the hot tub. I deserve it after an entire day of wallowing in your misery by forced proximity.”
Neil takes a moment to stare at the oversized hot tub through the glass doors to the balcony (which is enclosed in winter so that guests can still enjoy it). “I hate you.”
“I’d invite you to join me, but we both know you won’t. Because as envious as you are of my room’s amenities—of which I am richly deserving, mind you—you don’t actually care about the hot tub. All you want to do is talk to Shaun. So run along and commiserate about your awful weeks and argue over which one of you is suffering more without the other.”
“We’re not going to do that,” Neil mutters, knowing full well there’s a possibility they might do that.
“Uh huh. By the way, I maintain that I still win the ‘who’s suffering the most this week?’ contest.” She’s only half-paying attention to him now as she makes a haphazard attempt at neatening up the coffee table.
“Week’s not over yet, either,” he cheerfully reminds her, smiling at her exaggerated groan in response. He goes over to the credenza to examine an overflowing basket of muffins, fruit, and various chocolates—a gift from the organizers for presenting her paper this week. He takes out a muffin and then surveys the fruit, trying to decide if he finds any of it appealing. When he picks up an apple, he hears Audrey clicking her tongue behind him.
“You’re thinking that’s what Shaun would choose, aren’t you?”
It is unnerving the way she reads his mind sometimes. “The only reason I’m not throwing this at you is because it would hurt,” he claims, defiantly taking a bite out of said apple as he gathers his things to leave. On his way out he calls over his shoulder, “Try not to feel too sorry for me as you spend the evening relaxing in your hot tub while I languish in this hotel’s equivalent of a prison cell.”
“No one can do hyperbole quite like you, Melendez,” she yells back, right before the door shuts behind him, and he has to grin because they both know she’s right. So maybe he’d been exaggerating a little (they’re in a pretty nice hotel so all the rooms are nice), but the fact remains that Andrews had definitely given Audrey preferential treatment. While that doesn’t actually bother Neil half as much as he claims it does, he still feels it’s his duty to complain as much as he can—mostly because it annoys their boss and that’s the only satisfaction Neil needs to feel better about things.
He takes the elevator down seventeen floors (he’s pretty sure Marcus would have stuck him in the basement if it had been an option) and enters his own room, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being truly alone for the first time in 15 hours. He kicks off his shoes and settles back against the headboard of the bed, turning on the TV so he can catch the nightly headlines.
While he’s waiting for Shaun to get home, Neil sends an offhand text with the amount of time until he’s home—or at least, back in San Jose: 64 hours until my flight gets in, barring any delays.
63.65 hours, Shaun immediately corrects.
Neil feels a surge of warmth at the fact that he hasn’t been the only one counting. Shaun knows the exact amount of time until Neil gets home. (Or more importantly, the amount of time until they’ll next be able to see each other.)
When his phone rings a short time later, with Shaun’s name displaying on the screen, things suddenly don’t seem as bad as they have for the past three days.
Neil puts his phone on speaker when he answers, and hearing Shaun’s voice greet him in return causes a weight to lift he hadn’t known was there. Shaun’s okay. Hearing him isn’t as good as seeing him, but it’s enough to calm Neil’s nerves after three days apart (especially because this is the first time they’ve been able to talk on the phone since Neil left home—their schedules hadn’t aligned before so they’d only been speaking through texts).
He fills Shaun in on the conference, including details he hadn’t bothered to type out in texts because they were too trivial or he felt it was too time-consuming. In turn, Shaun tells him about their most recent patients and random news from the hospital (that is, gossip about their co-workers that he’d heard from Morgan or Claire). Neil gets lost in the ridiculous stories Shaun’s telling and for a time, at least, he’s able to forget that he’s thousands of miles from home. (With Shaun on the phone, the distance doesn’t seem nearly as great.)
After about an hour, their conversation lapses and Neil thinks he should probably wrap up their call. His resident has started making dinner, so Neil can hear the muffled sounds of pots and pans in the background, but…Shaun hadn’t told him he had to go. (Maybe he doesn’t want to end their call as much as Neil doesn’t.)
Neil’s never felt a compulsive need to fill the silence and neither has Shaun. They can spend time together quietly, sometimes for hours, doing their own separate things while sharing the same space. It’s something they truly appreciate about each other—Neil likes not being bothered when he’s busy or trying to focus on a task and Shaun likes not being bothered in general. However, there’s a difference between staying silent while they’re with each other in person and doing it over the phone. His thoughts drift and he remembers his conversation with Audrey…he’d wanted to warn Shaun about it, right? (That’s why he asks what he does next—or so he tells himself.)
“Want to guess what Audrey said tonight?”
He hears what might be the sound of a fridge opening and closing before Shaun answers, “I am sure she said many things over the course of the evening.”
“You know very well that I’m referring to something specific.”
“What did she say?”
Neil gives a long-suffering sigh, though the effect is probably lost because they’re on speaker. “One of these days you’re actually going to guess.”
“Guessing is an unproductive use of time. You could have already told me what she said and our conversation would be ten seconds further along than it is now.”
He can picture Shaun’s expression perfectly in his mind. “Stop looking all exasperated.”
“I look no such way,” Shaun says indignantly (which proves he looks exactly that way).
“Sure you don’t.” Neil debates the wisdom of continuing, but part of him is really curious about Shaun’s reaction. “She said that everyone thinks we’re going to get married.” He’s greeted by silence, so he waits, guessing Shaun’s probably busy with cooking. When it goes on for too long, though, he starts wondering if the call has dropped. “Shaun?”
Instead of explaining his absence, Shaun just asks, “What did you say?”
What had he said? He hadn’t laughed it off or changed the subject. Nor had he distracted her by joking that she was more invested in his and Shaun’s relationship than they were. No, he’d gone and let himself think about it. He’d actually envisioned what it’d be like, going so far as to imagine a future where they kept this up for so long that they got married for the sake of convenience. And it’s as crazy to think about now as it was an hour earlier.
Usually, Neil tells Shaun virtually everything, but there’s no way he’s going to reveal where his wayward imagination had gone. Even though he knows it didn’t mean anything, Shaun might not be entirely convinced of that. It could make him uncomfortable and that wouldn’t be fair—especially not when the whole point of their relationship is to avoid situations where Shaun’s made uncomfortable by other people. (Neil had already been one of those people, back when they first met, and he vowed a long time ago that he’d do everything possible to ensure it never happened again.)
“I didn’t really answer her,” Neil tells him, which is more or less true. “Then we went back to discussing this trip and how much I hate it.”
“You hate it?” There might be something hopeful in Shaun’s question.
“I do. I can’t wait for it to be over—a sentiment which you seem to share, since you’re the one who corrected my hourly countdown, remember?”
“I remember. We just passed 62 hours.”
“Still too long,” Neil complains. “Anyways, my point about Audrey was that she threatened to bring up the subject to you because she got nowhere with me. I wanted you to be prepared.”
“Okay,” Shaun acknowledges, but when he says nothing further, Neil’s left oddly frustrated. (And he doesn’t really know why.)
“Do you want to get married?” he finds himself asking, because it’s something he’s wondered before and never asked.
“To you?” Shaun’s voice has taken on an unnaturally high-pitch.
What? Neil replays his words, shaking his head at own carelessness. “No, Shaun, you don’t have to worry—that wasn’t a proposal. I should have worded it better—could you see yourself getting married? Is that something you might ever want? With anyone?”
Shaun doesn’t answer right away, but Neil can hear him moving around in the background, presumably still cooking. He figures his resident is pondering the questions, and he’s proven right when Shaun finally says, “Maybe.”
“Maybe? What are the factors you’re basing it on?”
“It would have to be the right person.”
“Well, I think that goes without saying. For everyone.”
“People get married for many reasons and not all of them have to do with finding the ‘right’ person,” Shaun argues. “Some people don’t care about that. Some people marry for wealth, or protection, or power. Morgan once told me she wants to marry someone of distinction.”
“Of course she did.” And now that Shaun’s brought it up… “What would your reason be?”
There’s a significant pause before Shaun asks, “You really do not know?”
“I could probably guess,” Neil replies, lightly. “But you don’t like guessing, do you?”
“Love,” Shaun stresses, sounding rather put out that he has to say it.
“Love,” Neil echoes, in agreement. “Look at that, Shaun—our reasons are the same.”
The line falls silent again until Shaun points out, “You almost got married shortly after we met.”
Neil slides further down on the bed so he can lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling, but the only thing he sees is Jessica. Their relationship had taken a course neither had expected, and snippets of memories pass fleetingly through his mind, capped off by endless arrangements for a wedding that would never take place.
Then Shaun’s asking, “Do you regret that you did not?”
“No, not at all. I’m glad Jess and I didn’t get married. We weren’t right for each other…not for the long-term.”
“But you loved each other.”
“We did,” Neil agrees. “We still do. But not the way people should if they’re getting married.”
Shaun hums and seems satisfied with that answer, if the fact that he doesn’t follow up is any indication.
Neil turns his head to look at the phone next to him. They’ve never discussed their views on marriage, but now that he’s heard some of Shaun’s thoughts, he only wants to know more. “So you would get married if you thought you’d found the right person… Do you think there might be any ‘right’ people on the horizon?”
“What do you mean?”
Neil hears the sound of water running and waits until Shaun turns off his sink to explain, “Like…in the distance.”
“As in…” Shaun hesitates. “…geographically?”
Neil smiles a little. “No, I mean in the figurative distance. We spoke a couple months ago about whether we should keep doing this, remember?”
“At the gala,” Shaun confirms, his voice becoming more clipped. “We agreed that we both wanted to and that we would tell each other if we changed our minds.”
“I know,” Neil says, “and that’s related to what I’m saying. I know there isn’t anyone you think of that way right now or you would have told me. All I’m wondering is if you’ve met anyone where you’ve thought…there could potentially be more one day. Perhaps at some point in the future, if you were open to pursuing it. That’s what I mean by someone ‘in the distance’—or on the horizon, so to speak.”
“On the horizon,” Shaun repeats thoughtfully, before saying, rather firmly, “No.”
Neil’s mostly relieved to hear that, even as he recognizes how conflicted he is about the entire thing. On one hand, if Shaun expressed any desire towards dating or finding a real relationship, Neil would actively encourage him because of how strongly he feels that Shaun deserves that kind of love. On the other hand, a very real part of him would despise everything about it because…he knows he’d be left behind.
He blames Audrey for this. She’d been the one who steered him down this track again, bringing up the issue of marriage, which had caused him to think of Shaun in a way he knows he shouldn’t. Not when Shaun doesn’t feel anything romantically towards him (or, as his resident had just confirmed, anyone).
Any feelings he has for Shaun must be kept strictly in the category of friendship. Always. He has a deep love and affection for Shaun, but as a friend, and if any small part of him had been wavering, or wondering about the possibility of them ever becoming more, this conversation is reaffirming every reason why it would never happen. Not only that, but Neil knows it’s a terrible idea to contemplate, even in the most idle of ways. It had taken him months to get over Jessica…he can’t begin to imagine the hell he’d have to go through if he fell in love with Shaun and then had to get over him. (He doesn’t know if he’d get through it, to be honest. So he can’t do that to himself. He won’t.)
“You would tell me,” Shaun begins, sounding rather uncertain, “…right?”
Neil’s brain momentarily short-circuits as he struggles to recall if he’d accidentally said any of his thoughts out loud. “Tell you what?”
“If there were anyone…on your horizon.” Shaun’s voice has gotten much quieter and Neil wonders if he’s moved further away from the phone.
Shaun often turns Neil’s own questions around on him, but this is another thing they’d talked about at the gala—at the time, Shaun had asked if there was anyone Neil wanted to be in a relationship with and Neil reassured him there wasn’t. So for him to ask again…what if this is something Shaun’s been worried about? Neil’s always been aware that Shaun dating someone would lead to less time with him, so what if Shaun has those exact same fears about him?
The possibility of a relationship (a real one) is something that’s taken Neil a long time to consider again, but lately he’s been thinking about it more—thinking about dating at some point in the future, after he and Shaun are over. He simultaneously loves and hates the idea of it, which is something he hasn’t been able to figure out, for the life of him.
What he does know is that he doesn’t want to be alone. After Jessica, and the toll it had taken on him, he’d thought that he might be okay with being alone. That maybe falling in love and marriage and children weren’t in the cards for him and that’d be fine, because he has his friends and family and career. That all would have been enough if it had to be enough. It wasn’t until he and Shaun became closer friends (and then began their arrangement of letting others believe they were together) that Neil remembered how much he thrives when he’s with someone. It doesn’t matter that what he and Shaun have isn’t actually romantic—it still fulfills a very real need in Neil: to have someone that close, who knows him that well, and who’s there for him as much as he’s there for them.
He has no idea how he’ll manage what comes after this is all over. No clue how he’ll return to his own solitary life.
“You would not tell me.” Shaun’s voice, rather subdued, reminds Neil that he’d never answered his question. So now Shaun thinks —
“Of course not.” Wait, that’s the wrong answer. Or rather, Neil has worded it the wrong way. “I mean—no. That’s not—what I’m trying to say is of course I would tell you. If there was anything to tell.” He sits up, feeling strangely flustered as he fumbles for his phone on the bed next to him. “Which there isn’t. Anything to tell, that is.”
“There isn’t.” It sounds like Shaun had meant it as a question, but it hadn’t come out as one.
“No. There isn’t.”
Starting a romantic relationship with someone? Despite knowing he wants it in an abstract way, the image of it won’t coalesce into anything real in Neil’s mind. The thought of opening himself up to a person he hardly knows feels so incredibly wrong that he recoils whenever he thinks about it. He doesn’t want to jump randomly into the dating pool to try and find someone he could spend the rest of his life with. Neil had never liked dating in that sense; he’d always preferred letting things happen naturally, becoming friends with someone first and seeing if more developed, as opposed to going in blind and hoping for the best with a stranger.
Since Shaun hasn’t spoken again, Neil takes a moment to think over the past year, across all the people he’d met in the course of his job and daily life. If it had been any other time in his life (such as a few years earlier, back before Jessica), there were a handful of people he might have been open to dating—but the crucial difference is he doesn’t want it with any of them now.
He hasn’t felt that flare of recognition in a very long time, the one that lets him know he’s met someone new that he could have in his life forever (in any capacity, be it close friend or lover or even something beyond that. Something more).
Unbidden, a rather significant memory comes to the forefront of his mind: the first time he’d met Shaun Murphy. He remembers the younger man, rain-soaked and slightly lost and yet absolutely certain in himself and his assessment of the young boy he’d saved in an airport terminal—the boy whom he’d been determined to save again, despite the fact that no one would listen to him. The tenacity he’d had, that refusal to give up when every door closed on him, both literally and figuratively—it’s the same drive he carries to this day and one of the things Neil loves most about him.
He’d always felt a spark with Shaun, and it wasn’t that he’d expected them to become romantically involved, or even that he’d seen a future where they were friends—it was that Shaun treated him differently than all his other residents had, up to that point. Shaun didn’t defer to him when he thought Neil was wrong, he voiced his protests. He challenged Neil, his direct superior, and he’d never been afraid of him.
Shaun had always respected him—always liked him—even when Neil didn’t deserve it.
Even when, looking back, Neil didn’t much like himself.
That connection between them that Neil had initially tried to ignore with forced distance, that he’d tried to drown out with antagonism, had eventually evolved into the friendship they have now. Some part of Neil had known, from their first surgery together when Shaun had challenged him, that there was something between them that he didn’t share with any other resident. He’d known that Shaun Murphy was someone he could get along with exceptionally well—if he let it happen. (And it had taken a serious reevaluation of himself to let it happen.)
Neil has always admired in others what he sees as some of his own best qualities: the ability to think critically and form independent opinions; the spine to question authority instead of blindly following orders; the strength to never fear anyone, even (and especially) those in positions of power.
The problem, of course, is that even though he likes those qualities, Neil doesn’t necessarily enjoy having that kind of open defiance directed at himself.
Shaun had pointed out Neil’s blatant hypocrisy one day, very early on, and instead of angering him like it would have coming from anyone else, Neil had just stared at him in mild surprise before laughing in acknowledgement. The fact that Shaun had him figured out so thoroughly despite knowing him for less than a month had settled somewhere in the back of his mind. He’d filed it away as important. He hadn’t known why, at the time, but he’d later realized it was one of the reasons they’d become as close as they had. He could never experience this kind of intimate friendship with someone who didn’t understand him (and no one seems to understand him quite like Shaun).
The clinking of dishes through the phone tells him that Shaun hasn’t disappeared on him, reminding Neil that he never wants Shaun to disappear on him—nor does he want Shaun to have that fear about him. (Worrying over Shaun worrying…he’s glad Audrey’s not telepathic because she’d never let him live this down.)
“I hope you don’t think that I’d neglect our friendship if there was someone that I wanted to…start seeing,” Neil tells him. It feels strange saying that out loud, like there’s something wrong with even mentioning the idea while he and Shaun are still ‘together’.
There’s enough of a pause before Shaun answers that Neil thinks he was right about the younger man having similar concerns. “Okay,” his resident finally says. “You may do whatever you want.”
“I’m aware of that, Shaun. And so can you.” Neil wishes, more than ever, that he was talking to Shaun in person. (Mostly so he could see him, but also, maybe, so he could reach out and touch him.) He’s not sure if Shaun understands what he’s trying to say—what he feels with renewed urgency that he has to make perfectly clear. “I never want us to stop being friends. No matter what. And I hope that we’re always in each other’s lives.” No, that’s not strong enough. “I want us to always be in each other’s lives.”
“You do.” Again, it’s not a question.
“Yes.” Neil instills as much conviction into the words as he possibly can. “I do.”
“Always,” Shaun echoes, and Neil pictures the way he’s almost certainly nodding as he says it. “Yes, I want that, too.”
“Okay.” Neil breathes out. “Good.” They’ve been talking long enough that he figures Shaun must be close to done cooking. “I’ll let you go if you want to eat,” he adds, with too much reluctance.
“I can eat and talk to you,” Shaun assures him, and Neil’s mostly just relieved at the excuse to keep talking to him.
“I didn’t ask what you were making because I was trying to determine what it was based on sound alone—is it pasta?”
Neil hears what’s probably a fork tapping on a plate a few times before Shaun curiously asks, “How did you—” He breaks off, and there’s a definite smile in his voice when he answers his own unfinished question. “It’s Thursday. You know I usually eat pasta on Thursdays.”
“Do you?” Neil feigns innocence. “I completely forgot. Face it, I’m just that good, Murphy. In another life I could have been a detective.”
“You should tell that to Alex.”
“I did. He laughed and walked away from me. Probably because I intimidate him.”
“Yes,” Shaun agrees, so genially that Neil can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, “that must be it.”
“I hope you enjoy your dinner.” Neil unwraps the muffin he’d stolen from Audrey, having long ago finished the apple. “Mine was fruit. And now a muffin.”
“You should eat better,” Shaun scolds.
“You can cook me dinner when I get home if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Can I,” Shaun says flatly.
“Yes,” Neil strives to sound serious, “that’s how generous I am.”
His phone screen lights up and he swipes it to find a message from Audrey: Any idea why Murphy just sent me a scathing text to reprimand me for ‘not ensuring you had a nutritious dinner’?
“Murphy.” Despite his attempt at sternness, Neil knows he’s failing at it. “Are you really harassing Audrey for not forcing me to eat well?” He types a quick response to her explaining that it’s her fault he hadn’t had a real dinner (she’d been so distracting that he simply hadn’t thought of it earlier).
“You are clearly not going to do it on your own,” Shaun’s telling him.
They both know Shaun has a valid point—Neil actually eats much healthier because of Shaun and how often they share meals. When left to his own devices, Neil tends to go for whatever’s most convenient to save time, which usually isn’t the healthiest option. It’s a habit he learned back in med school and has never been able to fully shake (though to be fair, it’s not like he’s tried to shake it, either). “I take vitamins, Shaun. It all evens out.”
“And to think you are a doctor.” Shaun’s voice holds the slightest hint of complaint.
“Yes,” Neil laughs, “to think.”
He expects more disapproval, or perhaps a lecture about taking better care of himself, so he’s surprised when all Shaun says is, “I wish you were here.”
Neil pauses, trying to connect that to their conversation. “To share your much healthier dinner with me?”
“No,” Shaun answers slowly. “I just wish you were here.”
Here. Not back in San Jose. Not even back home. Shaun wants Neil to be there with him.
The admission leaves him staring at his phone, wishing once again that he could see Shaun and not just hear him. He’s pretty adept at reading Shaun’s emotions, but it’s much more difficult when he has nothing visual to go on. He could ask Shaun to switch to a video call, but they’re both eating so it’d be a hassle. Besides, he knows that despite being unhappy, Shaun’s still perfectly fine—even if Neil can’t see that for himself. (So why doesn’t knowing it feel like enough?)
“I wish I was there, too,” Neil admits. “I’ll be home soon.”
“Not soon enough.”
“Think you’ll make it?”
“I suppose,” Shaun says, somewhat dramatically, and now Neil thinks that his resident’s at least partly teasing him. (Which means he must have forgotten who he was talking to, because no one can turn things around like Neil can.)
“Hey, if everyone’s getting along fine without me,” Neil begins, mildly, “I could extend my trip after the conference is over. Maybe take in a few days of sightseeing—”
“No!” Shaun interrupts, before quickly lowering his voice back to a normal level. “No. Just come home.”
“I’m kidding.” Neil taps the edge of his phone, realizing too late it’s the exact thing he would have done to Shaun to reassure him if they were right next to each other. “I’ll see you Sunday, as planned.”
“I will be there,” Shaun promises, referring to the fact that he and Claire had volunteered to pick them up at the airport. “In three days.”
“I’ll make it up to you that you’ve essentially had Andrews as your direct supervisor for the entire week.”
“You will?” Shaun’s voice brightens considerably. “How?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“I will think of something,” Shaun counters, and it’s obvious he’s smiling again.
Neil instantly feels better after hearing the proof that his resident’s okay. “Alright,” he agrees, “that works for me.” (Anything Shaun wants tends to work for him, really.)
Their conversation continues for a while longer, through dinner and beyond, discussing everything and nothing and a lot in between. It’s not until Shaun starts getting ready for bed that he reminds Neil they both have obligations the following day—obligations which won’t be that easy to fulfill if they spend the rest of the night talking.
“60.25 hours,” Shaun says, a final reminder of how long until Neil’s flight gets in.
“60.25 hours,” Neil confirms, before they bid each other goodnight.
Neil still hates this trip and wishes it were over already, still misses home and Shaun with a fierceness that’s not going to go away until he’s back in California, but he falls asleep a lot happier than he woke up that morning.
Chapter 9
Notes:
Still here and still writing! After a very busy few months, things have calmed down enough that I hope to get back to working regularly on all my stories this summer. I truly appreciate all the love I have gotten on this story and I hope everyone still here with me enjoys this update.
Since I can never manage anything by halves, this is part 1 to their reunion, and part 2 will be the next chapter.
Chapter Text
“You’re lucky this airline didn’t put me in one of the emergency seats,” Audrey’s griping, as she knocks back the rest of another mini bottle of liquor. “I’d have opened the door over the ocean just to throw you out. Or maybe so I could jump out myself.”
“Disregarding the fact that you’ve forgotten about cabin pressure,” Neil feels obligated to point out, “last time I checked, we didn’t fly over an ocean to travel from New York to California.”
Their plane had just landed after the week-that-wouldn’t-end, and as it slowly taxis to the gate, Neil tries to shrug some of the tension out of his shoulders. He’d thought he’d start feeling better when he got on the plane back in New York, but it hadn’t happened. Then he’d convinced himself the flight itself would help him relax, especially the closer he got to California, but that hadn’t happened, either. So then he’d decided that once they landed his unease would finally disappear—after all, he’s been counting down to this moment for the entire week.
Much to Neil’s dismay, though, it feels like his anxiety has only increased since they touched down. He’d felt a momentary wash of relief when they landed safely, but since that moment he’s only felt apprehensive. Restless. Unsettled.
He tamps down on the emotions, telling himself he’ll feel back to normal once he gets off the plane, and nods at the small bottle in Audrey’s hand. “How many of those have you had?”
“Not enough, I assure you.” She caps that off by obnoxiously waving the empty bottle at him, close enough to his face that he leans backwards. “And I know we didn’t fly over the ocean.”
Neil’s somewhat skeptical. “Do you?”
“I was using hyperbole, Neil, and you know damn well what I’m getting at.”
There’s no way he’s letting it go that easily. “I know it’s a good thing you became a doctor and not a geography teacher.”
She heaves a sigh, like he’s proving her point or something. “You are exhausting and I’m telling Marcus I want hazard pay for this trip.”
“Oh, so the oversized suite and regular gifts weren’t enough for you?” Neil can’t believe she has the audacity to complain when she got the preferential treatment (actually yes, he can, because she’s Audrey Lim). “Allow me to list all the perks I got during this trip.” He makes a point of staring at her in silence for about ten seconds. “Did you catch them all?”
She’s peering into the empty bottle, probably hoping it will refill itself if she wishes hard enough. “You haven’t listed anything,” she tells him, distractedly. He continues to stare at her, counting the seconds (twelve) until she finally turns to him again. “Okay, I get it. You’re very clever, aren’t you?”
“I happen to think so,” he agrees, reaching over to flick the bottle she’s holding. “By all means, have a few more of these. They’re really keeping you sharp.”
“I’d like to remind you that I earned every perk I got—I had to listen to you complain for a week. Wait, sorry, ‘you don’t complain’.” It sounds suspiciously like Audrey’s trying to mimic him (and Neil wonders even more suspiciously if she’s been practicing that impersonation on the residents). “We’ll compromise and call it ‘annoying the hell out of me’.”
“I’m pretty sure you’ve got that backwards,” Neil tries to protest, though it’s not entirely believable, even to himself. As the week had progressed—as the days had interminably dragged on—he’d found himself getting more aggravated with her (and anyone else who’d upset him in the slightest of ways). Neil’s pretty good at masking his irritation with people (God knows he’s had enough practice), but he’d allowed himself to be more open with Audrey because she’s a friend…and that meant by the end of the week, she’d been subject to a lot more…okay, complaining than usual from him. (Much like Morgan, Audrey’s always at her most annoying when she’s right and she knows it—come to think of it, Morgan’s probably learning from her. What a truly terrifying thought.)
Still, he maintains that Audrey had been equally insufferable in her own right.
“Are you sulking right now?” she tosses at him, in an insufferably (see, this proves his point) sing-song manner. This past week, it’s been one of her most frequent (and as much as he hates to admit it, minorly true) accusations.
“I’m…discontent,” Neil rephrases, “because I’m tired and want to get home.”
“Suuure,” she annoyingly drawls. “That’s what you want. To get home.”
Neil’s pretty sure he’s being mocked and tries to throw her off by issuing an accusation of his own. “You’re just as miserable as I am.”
“I’m miserable because of you.”
They both know she’s lying; Neil might be done with this trip for a whole variety of reasons, but Audrey’s on edge because of her discomfort with flying. They also both know he won’t call her on it because he’s a good friend, and she tends to overlook that much too often, in his humble opinion. Her unease is the main reason she’s had one too many shots today—no matter how much she loves to insinuate she was driven to it, all while throwing pointed looks in Neil’s direction.
Neil decides to circle back to their original topic. “You think you suffered on this trip? I had to listen to you complain about me for an entire week! That has to be worse.”
“I don’t think you understand how this works.” She waves her hand between them and he barely dodges the bottle again. “My complaints are more valid than your complaints.”
“Why, exactly?”
“Because they’re mine and I’m the one who has to suffer through them. Therefore, they’re much more important than yours.” Her tone implies he should know this already, though the faintest hint of a smirk on her face means she’s (mostly) joking.
“Audrey Lim,” he intones dramatically. “Never was there a woman more selfless. More altruistic. More concerned with the feelings of others—”
“I care about others,” she protests his mocking, “but sometimes I need to put myself first—”
“Sometimes?” He grabs the empty bottle from her hand before she can almost hit him for a third time.
“—because if I don’t,” she loudly continues, ignoring his interjection, “then my mental and emotional well-being suffers. Do you want me to suffer? Wait, don’t answer that.”
“You survived the conference, didn’t you?”
“Barely,” she grouses, and he suppresses the urge to secretly record her on his phone just so he can play this back every time she insists that (unlike their residents) she does not whine. “Today was the final straw, Melendez,” she continues whining. “As if a nearly week-long conference with you wasn’t enough, to then spend an entire day with you at the airport—”
“It wasn’t an entire day,” he corrects, “it was 8.45 hours.”
She eyes him for an uncomfortably long five seconds. “You’re turning into Murphy. I thought he’d be a good influence on you over time, but sometimes…it’s beyond even what I imagined.”
“You thought he’d be a good influence on me?” No, there might be a more pressing question here. “Why were you imagining anything about me and Murphy together?”
“I need something to keep me warm on the cold nights,” she says, so innocently that he flips the empty bottle back at her. “Hey!” she splutters, trying—and miserably failing in her slightly buzzed state—to catch it.
“Hey yourself,” he shoots back, in admittedly not the best retort. “I’ll thank you not to make that kind of joke anywhere in Murphy’s vicinity, lest he act awkwardly around you for the next…eternity.”
“Who said it was a joke?” Audrey smirks at him, and Neil regrets that he doesn’t have another bottle to throw her way. (…Maybe Murphy has a point about his propensity to throw things around.)
Neil decides, as usual, that his best bet is to ignore her. He settles for sighing as he stares past her out the window. “Are we ever going to get to the gate?” The plane had stopped a minute earlier, but they’re still a good distance from the main terminal.
Maybe Neil is never going to get off this plane. Stuck on the tarmac forever with Audrey Lim annoying him on one side and restless passengers starting to get increasingly riled up on the other…
He idly wonders how many laws he’d be breaking if he made a run for it and dove out the emergency door. Shaun would know. (And the idea of him reciting the list leaves Neil smiling.)
“Shaun has been a good influence on you, though,” Audrey interrupts Neil’s increasingly detailed imaginings, which have switched to Shaun lecturing him on what a dangerous and reckless thing he’d done. (‘You had already landed, Neil. You could not have waited several more minutes to deplane legally?’ ‘If you’d been there, Murphy, you’d have seen why I couldn’t.’)
“A good influence, hmm?” he echoes. “And why, exactly, would I need a ‘good influence’?”
“Let’s face it,” Audrey says, “outside of patient care, you can be somewhat…impetuous.”
“It’s called ‘following my instincts’,” Neil corrects her (because he swears she deliberately words things in the most unflattering way possible). That said, her point itself is true. He does have a tendency to choose what he feels is right rather than spend significant amounts of time weighing the pros and cons of a situation. It’s a skill he had to hone because of his profession: there often isn’t much time before needing to make a quick decision that could save someone’s life, especially in surgery. That skill has mostly served him well in his personal life, too—his instincts have rarely ever led him astray.
(Ironically, perhaps, his most egregious recent example of acting without thinking is that he’s faking a relationship with one of his residents. He’s kept that ruse going for over six months, too—and Audrey doesn’t even know about that one.)
“Call it whatever you want,” Audrey shrugs, “but everyone can see what’s been happening.”
His eyes snap over to hers. “What?”
“You’re becoming more like him.” She’s shaking off the mild haze the alcohol had left her with, eyes becoming more sharp. “That’s what we were talking about, remember?”
No, he hadn’t remembered. For a moment, he thought she’d been referring to his increasing…affection for Shaun. But of course she wasn’t, because that’s something everyone already knows—something, in fact, that many had claimed to know even before he did. (The more Neil thinks about their relationship lately, the more confused he becomes—or is it the more he confuses himself?)
When he takes too long to answer, Audrey must guess that he’s still not seeing her point. “8.45 hours,” she unerringly mimics Neil again. “That’s something Shaun would say.”
“That’s because it’s something Shaun said,” Neil confirms, scrolling through his messages to show her the one Shaun had sent where he’d told Neil exactly how long he and Audrey had been stuck in the airport due to storms that delayed their flight home.
Their chain of messages is part of a much broader statistical analysis of the trip, the main point of which was Shaun’s offer earlier today (upon hearing Neil’s complaints about never having enough time to get everything done) to sort Neil’s various activities into categories: productive versus unproductive. Their subsequent arguments about which activities belonged in which category had lasted for hours and pretty much kept Neil sane the entire day (especially since every time he’d checked on their flight it was delayed even further).
Audrey takes the phone from his grasp before he can stop her, though he doesn’t really mind as she reads through some of his and Shaun’s messages. “Productive versus unproductive?” she snickers. “Yeah, that’s Murphy, alright.” She sends Neil a sly glance. “Tell me, in which category would you place ‘pining’?”
He refuses to acknowledge such a ridiculous question in any way, shape, or form.
“It’s fine,” she says, dismissively, “I’ll ask him myself.”
Maybe Neil’s slow due to fatigue after a long day—a long trip—or maybe he’s distracted by the pilot announcing there’s going to be a short delay while they wait for other planes to clear before they can get to the correct gate (so close and yet still so far), because he doesn’t register until a couple of minutes later that Audrey was holding his phone when she said she was going to ask Shaun herself. Which means…
He glances over in semi-panic and sure enough, Audrey’s scowling at whatever she’s reading on Neil’s phone.
Where she’s having a conversation with Shaun.
Which means Shaun thinks he’s talking to Neil.
“Give me that,” he says, trying to keep his heart rate from skyrocketing, because God knows what she might have said to Shaun. And God knows how Shaun might have responded.
If she figures out that their entire relationship has been a lie…
Well, she certainly wouldn’t out their secret to everyone, but she’d definitely confront them, and that’s not a conversation Neil wants to have tonight (nor one he ever wants Shaun to have to suffer through).
(He has a fleeting thought that his problem is somehow inverse to the usual one of its kind: instead of fearing people might discover a secret, real relationship, he’s afraid that they’ll discover a secretly fake one.)
“Honestly, Neil,” Audrey sighs, as he wrenches his phone from her hand before her fingers can fully open, “Shaun seems to have no idea how much you love him.” She crosses her arms, scowling in a way that means she’s becoming more upset the more she thinks about something. “Do you not tell him that enough?”
“What are—” He glances up from skimming through ‘his’ texts with Shaun (the ones that Audrey had actually written) and registers that she’s moved beyond upset. “Are you angry at me?”
Upon seeing his genuine surprise, she tries to push back some of her frustration. “Far be it from me to…interfere in your personal life—”
“That’s a good one.”
Her expression softens the slightest bit. “There are things that…” She shifts her gaze to her lap, and he can tell she’s uncomfortable now. “Murphy sometimes doesn’t…” She presses the heel of her palm against her eyes, groaning in frustration. “You sometimes have difficulty expressing yourself.”
Trust that she’d only manage to finish a sentence when it involved criticizing him.
“I have difficulty expressing myself?” he can’t help joking, exasperated enough that he manages not to smile, despite his amusement. “You’d level that criticism even after you made three poor attempts to explain something, while still failing to get across the point you’re trying to make?”
She reaches over to his phone, scrolling back several messages, and taps her finger on one in particular. It’s the first question she’d sent to Shaun after taking Neil’s phone (so Shaun thinks it’s from Neil): Would ‘pining’ be considered a productive or an unproductive activity?
Neil’s almost afraid to keep reading, but he forces himself to do so.
I don’t think that ‘pining’ would ever be a productive use of time, Shaun had initially written, then followed it up twenty seconds later with, For what, or whom, are you pining?
And of course Audrey hadn’t ignored that question. Of course she’d written back one simple word:
You.
Neil momentarily shuts his eyes in dismay. This is what he gets for not paying enough attention. Audrey’s still complaining about his ‘inability to articulate himself properly’ and he ignores her in order to read through the rest of the conversation.
The next message Shaun had sent was the literal definition of pining; it looks like an excerpt from a dictionary, though Neil’s pretty sure Shaun just wrote it from memory. Someone else might have guessed Shaun was trying to evade a potentially awkward conversation by joking that Neil didn’t know the word, but that’s not how his resident operates: Shaun’s simply lost and trying to figure out what Neil is getting at. He’d most likely thought that citing the definition would spur Neil to clarify, and it would save him from asking a question he’s not sure how to ask.
It would have worked perfectly…if he’d actually been talking to Neil.
Audrey, however, responded to Shaun’s message the way Neil would expect anyone else to—slightly defensive, and perhaps even offended at Shaun’s seemingly patronizing tone: Why are you quoting the definition to me?
The conversation had gone steadily downhill from there, with both Audrey and Shaun getting increasingly confused by the other’s responses—Shaun because he thought he was talking to Neil, and Audrey because she thought they were discussing a real relationship.
The painful back-and-forth finally ended after Audrey asked what Shaun’s objection to the word ‘pining’ was and Shaun had replied, There is a decidedly romantic connotation to that word.
That last message had been sent four minutes earlier—right when Neil had taken the phone from Audrey.
Neil very determinedly ignores the vague sense of hurt at Shaun’s astonished reaction to the possibility that Neil might ever use a word that had a ‘romantic’ connotation when it came to them or their relationship. Of course Shaun was surprised. And bewildered. And maybe (worse) uncomfortable. (What else would he be?)
Neil quickly types an explanation to Shaun that Audrey had taken his phone, and apologizes for the fact that it had been her on the other end, not Neil. He hopes Shaun believes him, hopes he doesn’t think it’s the type of barely believable excuse someone would use to avoid having to answer for messages they regretted sending —
I noticed that your typing patterns and responses were not typical, Shaun answers, almost immediately.
Neil sighs with relief even as he ponders Shaun’s claim. You not only know how I type, but what I’m going to say before I say it?
You are very predictable, Shaun says, then adds a few seconds later, in an obvious joke, Sometimes.
Neil reads that a few times, picturing the way Shaun must have been smiling when he typed it, and he wants to see him more, in that moment, than maybe he ever has.
I’ll try to be less predictable, he writes back, just so that he doesn’t accidentally type what he’s actually thinking: that missing Shaun has become more than an abstract feeling or emotion. It’s become an actual, physical ache, centered somewhere in his chest, and he knows it won’t go away until he finally sees him again—because he’s tried other methods to ease it and nothing has worked. Nothing.
Over the past week he’d done everything he could think of that might help. He’d talked to Audrey and Jess and various other friends, in a bid at distraction, but the conversations always led back to Shaun. He’d immersed himself in the conference, the lectures and the panels, but that had only made him think more about how Shaun wasn’t there to enjoy any of it. He’d tried rationally, logically, to talk himself out of the way he felt, but it had only reminded him that was the method Shaun favored. He’d even attempted Audrey’s tried and true method: drinking. Unfortunately, it had only made him more melancholy (a fact which he hadn’t thought possible until it happened).
(Even though he’d stopped drinking once he realized it was backfiring, he’d proceeded to empty the entire mini-bar just to give it all to Audrey in an ill-thought-out desire to spite Marcus. He has no doubt their boss will be forwarding him that bill, and Neil will refuse to pay it on ‘principle’—a principle which does not exist, he just likes to cite that as his reason—and then Shaun will pay it because he’s hard-wired to avoid conflict, even when it’s between Neil and someone else. Especially when it’s between Neil and someone else. This type of pattern has repeated often enough that Neil gave Shaun the passwords to his accounts months ago, because it’s easier than having to pay him back.)
His phone draws him back to the present with another message from Shaun: If I factored unpredictability into your behavioral patterns, they would become predictable again in their unpredictability.
Neil’s not even sure he understands that logic, and considers replying with a quip about Shaun’s predictability, then casts it aside for something that will irritate him much more: Sometimes I think you string words together nonsensically in the hopes of confusing me enough that you’ll win the argument through my forfeit.
He laughs at Shaun’s subsequently cool response: I do not need to confuse you, nor secure your forfeit, in order to win an argument.
If you say so, Neil answers, glancing up at the speaker over his seat when another announcement claims they’ll be moving to the gate soon. He tells Shaun as much and promises to continue their conversation in person.
Audrey’s still going on about Shaun’s messages from earlier, trying to figure them out, and Neil’s only half-listening until she mentions something about him ‘neglecting Shaun’s emotional needs’.
Neil can let a lot of things go, but her accusation stirs an unease that takes hold. “You would say that to me?” He tries to keep the hurt out of the question. “You would think that?” After everything he’s done for Shaun, the things she knows about—and the things she doesn’t. The fact that Shaun’s well-being is more important to him than even his own… She’d seen how much he struggled with this trip for the mere fact that he couldn’t be there for Shaun if necessary, so to hear her say something like that is not only troubling, but also makes him wonder if there’s more that he’s missing.
Audrey’s eyes have widened in surprise at his reaction. “That’s not how I meant it, Neil. I know you love him. Everyone knows you love him. What I’m saying is…Shaun sees the world differently than we do. Maybe what’s obvious to us isn’t that obvious to him.”
“He knows how much I care about him,” Neil says firmly, because even though they don’t have the kind of relationship Audrey believes they do, it’s the truth. (They’ve told each other as much, both with words and without.)
“Okay,” she relents, “you would obviously know better than me, but…” She gestures to Neil’s phone, forgotten in his hand. “He seemed confused just now, like he doubted how much you missed him this week.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been drinking the entire flight home,” Neil says, hoping the alcohol is still affecting her enough that she might brush off this entire incident. “He was being argumentative on purpose.”
She furrows her brow. “He was?”
“Of course he was. You know how much he enjoys being difficult.”
Now her skepticism is laced with confusion. “I do?”
“With me,” he reminds her. “He enjoys it with me.”
“Well, that much I’ve seen,” Audrey admits, her consternation slowly fading as she buys into his explanation, and it helps that it’s true. Shaun’s always loved harassing him—in the beginning, it was probably because he thought Neil deserved it (and maybe Shaun hadn’t even been fully aware of what he was doing). Nowadays, though, it’s definitely intentional. Sometimes, Shaun will even go as far as telling Neil it’s intentional. Neil knows that he’s the safest person for Shaun to have that kind of back-and-forth with, since he’s not going to get confused or offended or angry—all he’s going to do is throw it back at Shaun equally. (Truth be told, he loves their lighthearted arguments as much as Shaun does.)
“He doesn’t exactly hide it,” Neil agrees. “Not when it comes to me.”
“No, he doesn’t.” She’s leaning back in her seat again. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have implied…well, anything about your relationship. That’s between you and Shaun, not me.”
“Really?” he asks wryly. “Because sometimes it feels like it’s me, Murphy…and everyone else who works at our hospital.” (It sounds like he’s complaining, but he’s really not—making sure everyone’s aware of their relationship is the entire point.)
She abruptly laughs. “I’ll grant you that we love our gossip, but no one’s overly intrusive, are they?” She sits up straighter, expression turning halfway menacing. “If anyone ever—”
“Stop right there. We’re fine.” He takes in the way she relaxes at that, and not for the first time, counts himself (and Shaun) lucky to have her as a friend. “I do appreciate your eagerness to rip someone apart. Shaun would, too…though he might phrase it a little differently.”
“I was going to say, I know our friends can pry, but it’s from a place of caring. And outside of our immediate circle, I haven’t seen anything like that when it comes to you or Shaun.” She points at him. “You tell me if I miss something.”
“Gotta say, now I’d be a little afraid to.” When he’s met with confusion, he sets his hand on top of hers—where she’s still aggressively pointing at him—and gently pushes it back down to the arm of the seat.
She’s slightly sheepish, a truly rare state for her. “Sorry. I can get a little over-zealous.”
“I love the hostile enthusiasm,” he promises. “But really, you’re a good friend.”
She glances suspiciously at him. “Have you been sneaking some of my vodka?”
“No, I’ve been painfully sober all day.” He wasn’t about to risk sliding into a morose state of self-pity on the way home—he’s close enough to it without the alcohol. “You were right about our co-workers, too. They’ll ask how things are, but Shaun and I have never gotten any intense scrutiny. Thankfully.”
He’d let the last word slip accidentally, but no harm’s done when Audrey nods sagely, thinking he’s grateful for the privacy, when he’s actually thankful that he and Shaun were never treated to the usual, friendly interrogation that most new couples are subjected to by their friends. The worst they’d had to get through was when Jess confronted him on that very first day, which Neil had somehow (he’s still not sure how) managed to navigate his way through well enough that she’d believed everything he told her. His and Shaun’s relationship, the supposed secrecy of it, Neil’s feelings on the entire matter, even Shaun’s rocky attempt at selling her on his ‘feelings’—none of it had so much as made her blink.
Ironically, everyone thinking they’d been hiding a relationship for a while had worked to their advantage, with people too satisfied at being ‘right’ to ever really question how their relationship had come about. And it’s a good thing, too, seeing as he and Shaun had discussed nothing beforehand—they would have had no answers to even the simplest of questions, like How’d you realize you had feelings for each other? or Where’d you go on your first date? or even something as basic as When did you get together?
Suffice it to say, things would have immediately fallen apart if anyone had bothered with the easiest of questions.
“I think we got a pass because people…” He has to word this carefully. “…knew about us before we officially told anyone.”
Her expression turns so incredulous, so quickly, that he’s afraid he accidentally gave them away somehow. “Is that all?” she scoffs, with the air of someone who knows everything.
Neil has to make a snap decision and hope it’s not the wrong one. He discards humor, distraction, and even doubling down in favor of feigning innocence (which is risky, especially with her, but it’s served him well when he’s used it sparingly in the past). “What do you mean?”
“Neil.” She crosses her arms and he suddenly feels like he’s about to be scolded. “I’m sure what you’re saying played a part, but there’s a lot more to it than that. People respect you. They respect Shaun. But mostly…” Now she’s failing to hide her amusement. “They’re afraid of you.”
Neil knows that; he’d known it long before Shaun delighted in telling him, in fact. But he’d never made any kind of connection between that information and the way people approached his relationship with Shaun…probably because other people being curious about them isn’t the kind of thing that would ever anger Neil, so it hadn’t occurred to him that other people thought it might anger him. The truth is that he’d liked it on the few occasions that people (whom he didn’t quite consider ‘friends’) inquired about their relationship, because the more people who knew how important Shaun was to him, the better.
“I suppose I never put things together because people asking about us isn’t something that upsets me,” he tells her, honestly.
“You’ve got to be joking. After you all but threatened to fire the boy who was harassing Shaun before you told everyone about your relationship—”
“I didn’t threaten to fire him,” Neil automatically denies, not caring that the threat was obvious without being explicitly stated. (With some of the things he does… It’s best to maintain plausible deniability.)
“And that happened the day you ‘officially’ told everyone. Did you think many people—outside of your close friends and our foolhardy residents—would risk asking you invasive questions after that? Or worse, risk asking Shaun? On the chance he might not appreciate it, or become uncomfortable, or mention it to you? No one we work with wants to be perceived as a threat to Shaun—and no one remotely sane wants to be perceived as a threat to Shaun by you.”
“Good,” he says vehemently, without even thinking about it. He’d known that the number of people who bothered Shaun, even indirectly, had dropped drastically since they began ‘dating’, but he hadn’t thought about just how far their consideration might extend.
She watches him knowingly. “You’ve thoroughly enjoyed hearing this, haven’t you?”
He doesn’t deny it or try to hide his grin. “More than you know.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she sighs, with a wave of her hand, “but you’re in love, so I’ll let you have this one.”
Despite appreciating what she’d told him, it does make him wonder… “Do I come across as too protective? Do you think I should…ease up a bit?”
“Nice trick question,” she says, without inflection. “You wouldn’t even if I told you to.”
“I do listen to you, you know.” It’s too easy for him to add, imperiously, “When your advice is the right advice.”
“Which is what my advice always is,” she says, mocking his tone, though she gentles it when she continues, “In this case, the right advice is: don’t change.” Her eyes have drifted to somewhere beyond him, maybe picturing their youngest resident and the protectiveness it’s all too easy to feel towards him. “Remember what I told you a few days ago? About the conversation I had with Shaun where he told me all the ways you help him, sometimes without even realizing it?” She becomes more focused, snapping her eyes back to meet his. “Anything that makes his life easier is the right thing to do.”
Neil knows she has no idea how far he’d gone to ensure that was the case—engaging in a fake relationship with his resident was certainly one of the most ‘out-there’ ideas he’d ever had—but Audrey’s calm reassurance reaches somewhere inside Neil, soothing his deeper worries and fears in an indescribable way. Even though he knows this has been beneficial to both him and Shaun, he’s worried at times whether Shaun exaggerates his own happiness because he wants Neil to be happy. He’s also been afraid of what others might say (or do) if they discovered the truth—and how difficult it might be for Shaun to deal with the scrutiny from that type of fall-out.
Mostly, though, he’s wondered about the wisdom of continuing this…indefinitely. (Which is not the same thing as forever. Absolutely not.)
“You’re right,” Neil tells her, because she really does know him after so many years. “I wouldn’t have changed even if you’d suggested I do so. I don’t think I’m capable of it.” Not when it comes to Shaun—the way that he is with Shaun. Still… “You’re sure that I don’t seem…” He’s not even sure how to word it.
“Crazy?” She’s smirking at him (obviously that’s the word she’d choose). Before he can get too defensive, she hastens to reassure him, “No, Neil, you don’t. Believe me, I’d take great pleasure in telling you if you did.”
“Thanks,” he mutters, with a brief shake of his head.
“Anytime.” She places her hand over her heart like she’s swearing an oath. “As to your initial question, it’s not that you come across as too protective, it’s that everyone knows how you are with the things—the people—who matter to you. So when it comes to Shaun…everyone can tell.”
It feels like she’s leaving out crucial information. “Tell what?”
She frowns at Neil like he should already know this. “That Shaun is the most important thing in your world. Same goes for him, by the way, when it comes to you. Neither of you says it, it’s just there. In every conversation. Every interaction. The love you have for each other is obvious.”
Neil’s starting to feel disquieted by this description of a life he doesn’t have. There’s no possible way Audrey can see all that—no way everyone they know sees all of that. He and Shaun care about each other, and maybe that’s never been a secret, but people must be viewing them through some skewed emotional lens since they ‘know’ about a relationship that doesn’t exist. “I think people see what they want to see,” he tells her, as his unease from earlier comes rushing back full-force. “We can’t really be the way you’re describing. I would have noticed.”
He would have noticed.
Right?
Some of her concern is returning and Neil wonders if he made a mistake to push her further on this topic, considering what he’s trying to hide.
“You think I’m only talking about after you admitted your feelings?” Audrey sounds torn between confusion and exasperation. “Because if so, I have to break your delusions, Melendez. What I’m talking about goes back months before that.”
He waits for her to laugh, maybe make some ridiculous joke at his expense, but nothing comes. “…Months?”
“Yes.” She shakes her head in dismay. “You never wondered why so many people knew you and Shaun were together before you admitted it?”
“I gave some thought to it, sure, but…” Neil figured that people had drawn their own conclusions because he and Shaun were becoming closer friends and had never hidden that they spent time together outside of work. In his experience, people usually enjoyed imagining the most shocking, sensational, or scandalous scenarios that they could. An attending surgeon and his resident carrying on (what people thought was) an illicit affair had ticked every box in the playbook of salacious gossip. Neil hadn’t thought people’s conclusions had anything to do with their…how did Audrey put it? Their ‘love’ for each other being ‘obvious’.
“It’s amusing to me that you were so lost in your own world that you didn’t notice what was happening around you. You’re usually more savvy than that, Neil.”
“Usually?” he echoes, still in disbelief. “How about always.”
“As I’ve just informed you,” she says coolly, “not always.”
He laughs shortly and lets it go, in no mood to continue the argument, lighthearted though it is. He’d much rather mull over the things she’d told him; she’s certainly given him a lot to think about in only ten minutes time.
Audrey looks out the window, delighted smile flitting across her face when she realizes they’ve started moving again and are almost at the gate. “This might have been the longest week I’ve ever spent with anyone,” she says. “And capped off with the day from hell? I’m officially done.” Their plane hasn’t even stopped yet when she hauls herself upright, shoving past Neil to get to the aisle so she can open the overhead compartment where her carry-on is stored.
Neil bristles at the reminder that their most recent conversation aside, they’d mostly been getting on each other’s nerves for seven days straight. (She’s right that today had been the worst.)
“Today was torturous,” he pleasantly agrees, “but not because of me. It was because you wouldn’t stop whining about the delay and the storms and the airline—”
“What kind of lousy pilots do they employ that can’t fly during a little rain?” she rails, throwing her hands up.
The plane lurches to a sudden stop and Audrey almost goes careening down the aisle, which earns her a stern lecture from a nearby flight attendant about the dangers of standing while the plane’s still in motion. Audrey tries her best to seem contrite (she might as well not bother), and by the time the attendant’s done, everyone else is standing, too, so she misses her extremely narrow window to sprint ahead of Neil and get off before he does.
It’s probably petty, but he’s really satisfied about that.
Until she starts in on him again.
“Eight extra hours with you. Eight.” Instead of returning to her seat, she leans a hip against the seatback in front of him, resigned to waiting along with everyone else—but in the aisle where she can still make a run for it if the opportunity presents itself. “I don’t know how Murphy puts up with you nearly 24/7. The kid must be a veritable saint. I always suspected it, but this trip has only confirmed it in my mind.”
“Hey, spending time with me is an honor,” he reminds her, starting to smile as a few of his favorite memories with Shaun flicker through his mind. “In truth, when it comes to the time we spend together…” His smile softens, becoming impossibly fond. “I definitely get the better end of the deal.”
“I could have told you that,” she quips.
“Yeah,” he laughs, shrugging up at her helplessly. “It’s not exactly a secret.”
She’s staring at him with some emotion he can’t quite identify, but he knows that it’s warm, and quite the change from how annoyed she’d been with him a few moments before. “You’re so far gone that I can hardly see you in the distance. I mean that in the best of ways, but…seriously, Neil. Gone.” She doesn’t wait for a response, turning instead to look down the now-crowded airplane aisle and issue an infuriated sigh. “Can we move it along a little faster, people? Some of us have places to be!” She’s mostly ignored by everyone in their vicinity and Neil can’t blame them—he’d ignore a crazy woman yelling on his plane, too. (Too bad the whole ‘ignoring’ tactic doesn’t work when he knows the person.)
He tilts his head back to look at her. “I hope when you’re inevitably arrested by the air marshal that they don’t mistakenly take me down with you because we’re traveling together.”
“At least being arrested means I’d get off this plane faster! ” She deliberately raises her voice at the end and Neil sinks down further into his seat in a futile attempt at hiding.
“Want me to turn you in?” he offers. “I’d be more than happy.”
“For what?” she demands.
“Disturbing the peace. Mostly my peace.”
“Next time we travel together, there better be a buffer between us,” she warns. “And his name better be Shaun Murphy.” She’s texting someone on her phone now, maybe to say they’ll be getting off the plane soon. “Shaun might be the only one that can get you to be less…you.”
“Thanks,” he says, sarcastically. “And if we ever take another flight together, I’m drugging you so you sleep through it.”
“It’d be preferable,” she sneers, but it’s not without a semblance of humor; he can see the relief in her that they’re back on the ground and about to get off the very plane she’d worried might be a ‘flying death trap’ a few hours earlier. That’s the main reason he doesn’t argue with her any further. (That plus the fact he’s also been able to hear himself this whole trip and knows if he were anyone else, he’d be irritated, too.)
Audrey had been telling the truth about the week getting progressively worse as it went on. The night Neil and Shaun talked had been much better, but it was the only chance they got to actually speak over the phone for the rest of the week. They’d had to go back to texting when their work schedules wouldn’t match up, and it had been bothering Neil more by the day (and Shaun, too, it was clear).
It seemed like the closer they got to seeing each other again, the more difficult it was to wait.
Today’s significant delay hadn’t helped matters, either. It’s past 8 in the evening and they should have gotten in shortly before noon.
Thankfully, it seems like Audrey remembers how tired she is after their incredibly long day, and any further discussion (or argument) is shelved as the plane starts clearing of passengers. Once they finally disembark and are back in the airport, Neil has to stifle a sigh that getting off the plane did absolutely nothing to defeat the malaise that’s gripped him all day.
Well, there’s nothing for it. Maybe what he needs is to be back in his apartment, in his own bed, and then he can finally wipe the entire trip from his mind, firmly leaving it in the past where it belongs.
As he and Audrey wind their way through the airport, heading for the main concourse where people are waiting to greet arriving passengers, Neil finally begins to feel better. His nerves are settling with every step that takes him further from the plane and closer to —
Shaun.
His resident has his back to the far wall of the concourse, out of the way of most the crowd, scanning the people streaming into the room from various entry points. Judging by the amount of people here at this time of night, several other planes must have recently arrived.
Morgan’s leaning against the wall next to Shaun, but she’s not half as interested in the surroundings as her fellow resident, reading on her phone instead of watching the new arrivals. It takes about three seconds for Shaun to catch sight of Neil across the room. Once he does, he breaks out into a welcoming smile, and Neil feels like he can breathe again for the first time in seven days.
Everything else fades into the background—the laughing families and shouting children and couples embracing and Audrey hovering behind him (she’s back to—what else—complaining about something or other). All he sees is Shaun and he wonders why it feels like he’s been gone for months when they were saying goodbye to each other only a week earlier, in this very airport.
“You’re home,” Shaun states, when they come to a stop a few feet from each other. There’s something in his words, though… Something that almost makes it sound like Shaun doesn’t believe them.
“I’m home,” Neil confirms, studying his resident closely—every line of his face, every flicker of his eyes, every aspect of him that Neil can see—and he measures it against everything he’s learned over the course of his career. It takes him around ten seconds to reassure himself that Shaun is in perfect health, and that’s when he realizes the automatic assessment is something he unconsciously does with Shaun whenever they see each other. Being unable to do it for an entire week had been a major reason why he was never able to fully relax. He’d never been able to confirm that Shaun was okay. (The night they’d talked had helped somewhat, but it was no substitute for being able to examine him in person—to see firsthand that Shaun was fine.)
That said, something about Shaun still seems off, but Neil can’t determine what it is. There’s a tension in the other man that isn’t going away—Neil can see it in the pinched lines around his eyes, the slightly downward set of his mouth, and the rigid, overly formal way that he’s standing. He’s not comfortable and Neil can’t tell if it’s because of the crowds around them or if it’s due to something else.
It bothers Neil—a lot—but he sets aside his worried questions to ask at a later time, when they’re alone. He’s not going to ask Shaun here, in front of their friends, as strangers continue to stream by them in the middle of the airport.
As he and Shaun stare at each other, Neil’s inexplicably at a loss, which is something he rarely feels (and Shaun’s one of the few who can elicit that reaction from him). Neil’s not sure how to greet him, what’s appropriate, or what’s not. Audrey and Morgan are probably expecting some sort of enthusiastic reunion, but trying to convince them of something that isn’t is the last thing on his mind. Maybe Shaun’s at a loss, too, because he’s not moving, either. The only thing Neil wants to do is touch him: seek out tangible proof that Shaun’s really here, right in front of him, within reach, when for so long they’ve been separated by literally the entire country —
Before he can finish the thought, Shaun closes the distance between them, hugging Neil so fiercely that it seems like he’s not entirely in control of himself. Or maybe like he never wants to let go. (Which might be just fine with Neil—practical logistics of how they’d get through the rest of their lives, aside.)
Right, Neil remembers, breathing in. This is easy.
(How could he have forgotten how easy this is?)
After a belated few seconds, Neil realizes he’s standing there frozen, so he drops his bag in order to hug Shaun in return, though much more gently because he’s very aware of the younger man’s aversion to being held too tightly. When Shaun doesn’t seem satisfied with that, shaking his head and pressing even closer, Neil allows himself to hold on tighter than he has in the past, hoping his actions convey exactly what he’s feeling in that moment. (Which is that if he goes the rest of his life without 3000 miles between them, it still wouldn’t be long enough.)
He must be doing exactly what Shaun wants because that’s when the younger man relaxes, dropping his face to Neil’s neck and murmuring something that Neil feels more than hears.
I missed you.
Neil shuts his eyes when the last of his tension melts out of him, the misery of each day they’d spent apart vanishing, as if his trip to New York never happened at all.
He doesn’t have to wonder if Shaun feels the same way. He knows he does. He can tell.
He turns his head to whisper against Shaun’s ear, “I missed you more.”
“That is not possible,” Shaun counters, and though his voice is low, it’s as fierce as Neil’s ever heard it.
“It’s possible,” Neil assures him. Shaun’s still pressing his forehead to that space between Neil’s neck and shoulder, and when he mutely shakes his head in protest, Neil adds, “Quick, Murphy, if you try to confuse me, you might win this argument.”
Shaun huffs out a laugh, but doesn’t turn his head or lean back or otherwise separate himself from Neil in any way. “I do not care if I win this argument.”
“That has to be a first.”
“I do not want to win this argument,” Shaun clarifies, and the waver in his voice is what causes Neil to register that Shaun’s breathing is slightly uneven—an indication that he isn’t as composed as he appears on the surface. He’s trying to keep his emotions under control, at least here in public, and he’s using Neil to do it. The gesture is so trustingly vulnerable that Neil thinks his heart might skip a few beats. (Shaun’s done this with him before and it never fails to make everything in Neil twist into knots.)
His thoughts are abruptly thrown into the past week, when he and Shaun had been thousands of miles apart. He wonders if Shaun had needed this—needed him—and he hadn’t been there. The thought of Shaun struggling through difficult times alone…it’s exactly what Neil feared and what made the trip practically unbearable by its end. It’s just…it’s not acceptable to Neil. Not when it’s within his power to help, even if only in some small way.
He makes a silent promise to himself and Shaun (and maybe the universe) that it’s not going to happen again. He’s not going to let it happen again. Andrews had already made that promise, but it’s one Neil will never allow him to break. (Which isn’t to say that he’s going to embark on some sort of stalking campaign centered around his resident—people probably think he does enough of that already—but simply that if Shaun never wants to be separated from him again the way they’d been this past week, then he never has to be.)
He sets a hand on the back of Shaun’s neck, and starts tapping his fingers, an even rhythm in time. Shaun steadily gathers himself, his breaths coming slower as they begin to match Neil’s.
Neil has no idea how long they stand there, hugging in the middle of the crowded concourse, but when they finally let go of each other, neither of them moves back very far. They’re still standing much closer than normal, and Neil can’t bring himself to put any more distance between them right now. Not after so much time apart.
“How about neither of us wins and we’ll call it a draw?” Neil offers, to settle their mostly forgotten argument.
Shaun seems to consider that. “It would only be a draw if…”
Neil starts to smile when he sees that Shaun gets it. “We missed each other the same.”
“The same,” Shaun repeats, analyzing the words as he says them. “I like that. Even though we could never know for certain.”
“And why not?” Neil asks, with feigned seriousness.
“We cannot experience what another person feels,” Shaun spells out for him, not because he thinks Neil is confused, but because he’s trying to prove his point. (Not to mention that he loves having the last word when it comes to Neil.) “So no, we could not conclusively know we felt the same.”
“I’m not so sure.” Neil’s aiming for casual, but thinks he’s missed it by a mile. He’s surprised to see his hand come up, reaching out to touch Shaun’s face, pressing his thumb to the frown lines around his eyes. Trying to soothe them away. “I’ve learned a lot over the years, Shaun. I think I can tell.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Shaun says, solemnly. “You do have more experience than me.” He breaks into a half-smile, turning his face slightly into Neil’s hand. “Much more.”
“Not that much more,” Neil protests, lightly pinching Shaun’s ear in chastisement. Shaun’s smile only grows wider as he swats Neil’s hand away in reflex.
This is what Neil had missed. The comfortable patterns he and Shaun always fall back into, the ease with which they can discuss anything. The familiarity of it. The contentment in it.
Happiness, his mind whispers. It’s called happiness.
That’s when Neil realizes why he hadn’t felt any better today, despite his trip coming to an end. It hadn’t been enough to board a plane in New York, or to watch the miles between himself and California tick away. It hadn’t even been enough to land here, safe in the knowledge that he’d finally be back at his apartment before the evening was through.
Nothing had been enough to feel like he was home again.
Not until he had Shaun standing in front of him.
Chapter 10
Notes:
They're never getting out of this airport! Which is another way of saying there will now be a third part to this reunion. (And no, this isn't even the last arc I had planned, this was supposed to be a one-chapter interlude...what else is new?)
To answer a question I keep getting: yes, they are going to "officially" get together - at the end, which is still several chapters away (3? 10? Who knows!). And if that's not soon enough, it might help to read this as a story about two people who end up in a real relationship, based on real feelings, and it just takes them a while to consciously realize/accept it - because that's always been my mindset. ;)
Thanks for all the awesome feedback and encouragement, you guys are the best! <3
Chapter Text
“I did not like it when you were in New York.”
Shaun’s statement startles Neil out of his momentary reverie—he’d been staring across the concourse, wondering when (and how) Shaun became the primary factor in what he considers home. But that’s no longer his main concern, because the edge in Shaun’s voice says as much as the words themselves: Shaun might be happy he’s back, but he hasn’t gotten over his unhappiness that Neil had to leave in the first place. That sentiment is at the heart of Shaun’s deeper discontent (which Neil hadn’t been able to determine the cause for until now).
He doesn’t resist the urge to reach towards Shaun’s face again, but catches himself when his hand is halfway there. He can’t just… He shouldn’t keep doing that kind of thing. Shaun might be more comfortable with him than with anyone else, but he still values personal space more than anyone Neil knows (so he probably doesn’t appreciate Neil’s repeated attempts to erase it).
Neil lets his hand fall back to his side, and Shaun tenses, an expression flitting across his face that Neil can’t identify (but he knows he doesn’t like it).
A distinct coldness spreads through him as he wonders if his worries have just been confirmed—if Shaun’s relieved Neil hadn’t touched him again. Shaun’s never said anything like that in the past, never protested or put a limit on the ways they interact, which includes casually touching each other…but maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe they’ve gotten closer than he’s strictly comfortable with; it’s possible he wants more space, or just feels differently now, for some reason.
Maybe he doesn’t know how to tell Neil that —
Shaun takes a step forward and Neil’s thought disappears because he’s never known anyone who signaled they didn’t want to be touched by moving closer.
Partly to test his theory (and wouldn’t Shaun just love that), but mostly because he wants to, Neil brushes his fingers over the skin of Shaun’s wrist. When Shaun breathes out slowly and leans incrementally towards him, Neil wraps his hand around Shaun’s wrist without consciously planning to do so and the younger man relaxes right before his eyes.
The problem hadn’t been that Neil almost touched him again—it was that he hadn’t followed through.
The realization causes him to reflexively grip Shaun’s wrist tighter, trying to strengthen their point of connection. “I didn’t like being in New York, either.”
Shaun tilts his head. “Which one of us disliked it more?” he asks, in a callback to the ‘argument’ they’d just settled a minute earlier, though he’s not exactly keeping a straight face.
“We disliked it equally,” Neil plays along, as Shaun allows his smile through and drops his eyes to where Neil’s still holding onto him.
“Make that three of us who didn’t like Neil going to New York,” Audrey says, from somewhere behind Neil.
Shaun’s gaze slides from Neil’s hand around his wrist, up to his face, and then over his shoulder, where it lands on Audrey with a small measure of surprise—almost like he’d forgotten Neil had been traveling with her.
When no one says anything, she sighs loudly. “Yes, it’s wonderful that Neil’s home. And I’m home, too, if anyone cares.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “Which I can see that no one does.”
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Lim,” Morgan practically simpers, moving forward and handing over a cup of coffee to her attending that Neil hadn’t noticed she was holding. “Obviously, we’re thrilled to have you back! I just couldn’t tear my eyes away from the spectacle of these two,” she jerks her head at Neil and Shaun, “reenacting the ending of every romantic movie I’ve ever seen.”
“I guess if I don’t get that kind of over-the-top greeting, coffee will do,” Audrey grumbles (in a rather questionable version of thanks).
Shaun takes a half-step sideways so he can more easily see Audrey behind Neil’s shoulder. “We all care that you’re home,” he assures her. “Would you like a hug, as well?”
Audrey freezes in the middle of lifting the coffee to her mouth. “Oh no, Shaun. You don’t have to hug me—I was making a joke.”
“I would not have offered if I didn’t mean it,” Shaun tells her, leaving Audrey as mystified as Neil’s ever seen her.
“Okay?” she says, mostly as a question, coffee still not lowered.
Shaun glances at Neil and Neil doesn’t understand why until he realizes he’s still holding onto his resident; instead of pulling away, Shaun’s waiting for Neil to let him go. He squeezes Shaun’s wrist, in a gesture he hopes feels like apology, then releases him so Shaun can go over to hug Audrey. The fact that it happens at all is enough to make her stare at Neil over Shaun’s shoulder, looking vaguely speechless as she hugs the younger man back, taking care not to spill her coffee in the process.
“Welcome home, Dr. Lim,” Shaun says, as they separate after the brief embrace. “I missed you.”
“Thanks, Shaun. I missed you back.” The smiles they exchange are so warmly contagious that Neil can’t stop his own (and he even catches Morgan rubbing a hand over her mouth in a poor attempt at disguising one herself).
“You missed me, too, right?” Morgan asks her attending, probably worried that they’re forgetting about her. “Should I hug you, as well…?” She takes a step forward while awkwardly holding out her arms, and Audrey makes a valiant effort to not let her eyes roll right out of her head.
“Try and look a little less tortured, Reznick. And no, you don’t have to hug me. While I always appreciate my residents trying to butter me up, the coffee was more than enough gesture.”
Morgan’s eyes widen in a comical expression of feigned innocence. “I would never do something nice just to win your favor.”
“I can’t believe you managed that with a straight face,” Audrey says blandly, as Morgan sulks a little. “Your acting could take some work.”
Shaun’s watching them with interest—maybe they amuse him or maybe he just appreciates Audrey calling Morgan out the way he usually does himself. No matter the reason, he’s smiling when he tells Audrey, “I’m glad you’re back.”
She sends him an assessing, half-teasing glance. “Are you?”
Shaun folds his hands in front of himself, nodding. “Your company is pleasant.”
“What a glowing description,” she says, trying not to laugh.
“You’re talking about Audrey Lim, right?” Neil can’t resist asking Shaun, in a loud aside that’s intended for her to overhear.
Shaun knows very well what he’s doing. “Yes,” he says, with obvious amusement and no hesitation.
“Yes,” Audrey haughtily echoes to Neil. “You have good timing to say that now, Murphy. Just when I was beginning to wonder about your taste in people.” She drives her point home with a sharp smile in Neil’s direction.
“Murphy has excellent taste.” Neil gestures up and down at himself. “He’s with me.”
“Why are you citing evidence to the contrary?” Audrey asks, all too innocently.
Neil expects Shaun to jump in, but when his resident stays silent, he turns to him. “Feel like defending yourself here, Shaun?”
Shaun’s surprised at the question, which means he’d had no intention to speak up. “It is pointless to assign a value judgement to a person’s tastes or preferences,” he tells them, sounding rather uninterested in the topic. “Every person is biased in their own favor. It does not matter what other people think of my taste. Or anyone else’s.”
Neil shakes his head a little—typical that Murphy would give him nothing to work with when he was trying to compliment himself. “What he’s trying to say,” Neil tells Audrey (though he’s really trying to goad Shaun), “is that he’d classify his taste as exceptional.”
Shaun sighs in a way that means he expects this kind of thing by now. “That is not what I am trying to say.”
“I understand, Shaun,” Audrey assures him, as she motions in Neil’s direction. “We’ll settle for calling your taste questionable. At best.”
Shaun’s not pleased with either of them now (and they must have convinced him to try and clarify). “My taste is…” He pauses in a struggle to explain, rocking back on his heels in frustration. He looks from Audrey, over to Morgan, then settles on Neil. “…you?”
“Shaun,” Neil murmurs, hoping to head him off at the pass, before he feels like he has to keep convincing Morgan and Audrey that their relationship is very much real.
“My taste is you,” Shaun repeats, much more confidently. “Other people may label that however they wish, but…their opinions don’t matter.”
“No,” Neil warmly agrees, “they don’t.”
It’s not until he hears himself that he realizes what he said: other people’s opinions don’t matter?
That directly contradicts what he’s believed for months. The last time he’d checked (every time he’d checked), the main reason they started this (and the whole reason they kept it going) was for the benefit of what others would think. He and Shaun had been trying to create their own insulated worlds where people didn’t bother them, where they were left alone, and they’d more or less accomplished that.
Is it even necessary for them to do this anymore? And if it is, how long can they realistically keep up the pretense?
Neil feels a terrible sensation of dread sweep over him, just like always when he wonders how things with Shaun will inevitably end. He has no idea how he and Shaun will be able to act out an ‘ending’ to their relationship that's even remotely believable.
“What is it?” Shaun’s not doing a great job of hiding his worry at whatever he sees on Neil’s face.
“Nothing,” Neil promises. When Shaun clearly doesn’t believe him, he adds, “Nothing important.”
“Okay,” Shaun says, that easily, because he trusts Neil (often implicitly when it comes to things like this). Oh sure, he’ll argue with Neil over…well, some days it seems like anything, but for more serious matters, the ones that truly bother him? He believes Neil without needing to hear the argument, which is a benefit he doesn’t extend to anyone else. It means that when Shaun’s worried, he generally looks to Neil first—and often exclusively—because Neil reassures him in a way no one else usually can (and certainly not as quickly).
If they end this, Neil won’t be able to do that anymore.
So many aspects of their friendship have become wrapped up in the relationship they’ve let other people believe they have. From the amount of time they spend together, to the way they place each other as a priority, to the simpler things, such as the way they speak to each other. The way they are with each other.
No matter how many times Neil has circled this problem over the past few months, he’s never been able to find a solution. If he and Shaun make a point of ‘breaking up’, yet continue interacting the same way, it will invite a lot of questions that neither of them wants to answer. Questions which could much too easily lead back to the fact that their relationship was never romantic in the first place. It means that if—when they ‘break up’, they’ll have to fundamentally alter their friendship, at least for a while, and spend time apart in an attempt at making it seem like they’d been together in the first place…and no longer wanted to be.
Which leads Neil to the actual problem: he doesn’t want to do any of that. He doesn’t even know if he can. He might be okay with lying, with telling people they’d ended things, but he can’t set aside his friendship with Shaun and intentionally avoid him, even if they’re both pretending in an effort to make a break-up seem more convincing.
The fact of the matter is that Neil barely got through this past week. How is he supposed to keep that type of separation up for a month? Or two? Or six? (How long would be long enough?) And what would their friends think if Neil (or Shaun) couldn’t cope any better than they had during this trip? If he and Shaun were both miserable, how long would it be until people started badgering them about ‘getting back together’? Or began inundating them with well-intentioned advice about moving on, or worse, dating again?
Even if they made it past some benchmark ‘acceptable’ amount of time and then resumed their friendship, would that only pique people’s interest further? Or would it make them suspicious? Would they think he and Shaun had gotten back together and were ‘lying’ about it again, just like everyone thought they had the first time around?
Would people begin questioning why he and Shaun acted the same with each other whether they were ‘in a relationship’ or not?
Every course of action seems like it will only attract more attention and scrutiny, which completely defeats the point of their whole feigned relationship in the first place. They hadn’t formulated any exit strategies when they started this, which was mostly because they didn’t plan anything about it. At all.
Neil might blame the fact that the whole thing had just been…too easy. They hadn’t had to do much, hadn’t had to concoct any elaborate lies or act out any scripted scenes—all they had to do was ‘confirm’ something most people already believed was true. They’d had no pressing reason to think much further ahead, let alone all the way to the end—namely, when and how they’d put a stop to it.
As usual, Neil has to set all of that aside yet again. An answer isn’t miraculously going to occur to him—certainly not tonight. Maybe down the road he’ll come across a new idea or perhaps Shaun will suggest a brilliant solution he’s overlooked. Until then, he’ll do what he does best: try not to think about it.
The most important thing, to Neil, is that he’s realized he doesn’t just want Shaun in his life, he needs him in it. And Neil needs to be there if Shaun needs him. No ‘solution’ is acceptable if it denies Neil either of those things…because those worlds they’d been so intent on creating, back when they started this? The worlds where they could escape from everyone else? Over time, those worlds had slowly overlapped, to the point that Neil thinks they might be the same world, by now.
If maintaining the pretense of a relationship ensures that they can keep that world, Neil’s not about to take any steps to dismantle it.
“Neil.”
Shaun’s voice pulls him from his thoughts (because apparently, staring off into space while the others continued talking without him hadn’t been the best way to assuage his resident’s concern).
“Sorry,” he says. “I’m still here. Just…thinking.” Shaun’s clearly interested, so Neil adds, “About you and me.”
Shaun tips his head from side to side, like he’s considering what Neil could mean. “Good things?”
“When it comes to us,” Neil says, like he’s imparting a secret, “it’s always good things.”
Shaun doesn’t have to say anything—his smile reveals what he thinks of that answer. He’d probably press Neil for specifics, but Audrey and Morgan’s laughter draws their attention.
Neil isn’t sure what punchline he missed, but he’s not about to ask them to repeat it—especially not when one or both of them will take that as an invitation to pry into why he’d missed the joke in the first place.
Luckily, neither woman is paying him or Shaun any attention; Morgan has returned to checking her phone (and sighing at whatever she doesn’t find there), and Audrey’s sipping her coffee (and sighing because of how much she’s enjoying it). It’s making Neil a little jealous, actually—he doesn’t really want any, but he wonders if he’s missing out.
“Why didn’t you get me coffee, Reznick?” he asks, simply for the joy of complaining. “If you’re going to bribe people into liking you, then at least do it equally. I might not be your attending anymore, but I can still order you around.”
“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” she says, without even looking up from her phone. “And you hate drinking coffee this late if you’re not working.” Her answer gives Neil pause, causing him to exchange a look with Audrey; Morgan’s right, but how had she known that?
Audrey frowns as she studies the coffee Morgan gave her, then turns to her resident with renewed suspicion. “How did you know my favorite blend from the coffee shop in the airport?” She then explains, for Neil and Shaun’s benefit, “This isn’t like she knew the coffee I always buy on the way into work. I only get this kind when I happen to be passing through this airport.”
“You mentioned it once,” Morgan says, matter of factly. When Neil and Audrey stare at her, she shrugs. “I know everything about you. Both of you.”
“That’s…” Audrey probably casts aside a dozen words before settling on, “…troubling.”
“You mean terrifying,” Neil corrects her, thoughts turning more uneasy when he wonders what Morgan means by everything.
“Morgan does not know everything about either one of you,” Shaun says, with a brief look at Neil that has him wondering if Shaun’s somehow read his mind. “No one knows everything about another person.”
“I know enough,” Morgan says coolly. “I’m observant. It’s a handy trait when you’re a doctor—I hope this group is familiar.” Her barbed statement causes Audrey to scoff into her coffee. “A lot of the things I’ve figured out are things that people don’t even know about themselves.”
“I don’t think I want to know, Reznick,” Audrey mutters.
“I wouldn’t tell you even if you did,” Morgan claims. “I keep secrets very well.” She hums thoughtfully, then adds, “When it benefits me.”
“Name one secret you’ve kept,” Neil challenges, an intentional jest that makes her laugh.
“Hilarious, Dr. Melendez,” she says breezily, and he’s not sure if it’s his imagination that her eyes linger on him a beat longer than they should before she turns back to Audrey. “No one has anything to worry about from me.” Her brow furrows at some memory. “Except Alex. But that’s a given.”
“Again, I don’t want to know. So I’m not going to ask.” Audrey takes another sip of her coffee and must feel Neil watching her. “Oh for—I’ll let you try it if you stop staring at me.”
“I wasn’t staring,” he informs her. “I was looking your way. For several consecutive seconds.” He takes the proffered coffee, figuring he has to take a sip after going out of his way to complain about not having any…though he really should have known that she had a motive other than ‘being nice’—he nearly chokes to death when he takes a sip of her god-awful drink. “What is that?”
“Extra sugar, extra cream—” Audrey begins.
“—and extra mint,” Morgan finishes.
“Mint?” He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the taste out of his mouth. “Is there even any coffee in there?”
“I’m sure there’s a splash or two,” Audrey says brightly, holding out her hand for the cup, which he almost spills in his haste to return to her.
“I’m sure you already know this,” Neil tells her, “but your taste is terrible.”
“Taste is subjective,” Shaun reminds them.
“Subjectively terrible,” Neil says, under his breath, which predictably gets Shaun to dig in his heels.
“Her taste is not good or bad,” Shaun insists. “It is different than yours.”
“Yeah, Melendez.” Audrey’s eyes are sparkling with hidden laughter. “It’s just different.”
“Fine,” Neil relents. “Your taste is different from mine because yours is terrible and mine is not.”
Shaun’s scrutinizing him and Neil thinks he’s going to start another argument, but then he shakes his head. “You are being difficult on purpose.”
“Does that sound like me?” Neil asks the group, though they’re all aware it’s rhetorical.
“It does not sound like you,” Shaun answers (because he’s never let a question being rhetorical stop him). “It is you.”
Neil nods, saying gravely, “And you wouldn’t know anything about arguing with me just to argue with me, would you?”
“I argue with you when it’s justified,” Shaun claims.
“You argue with me always!”
“It’s always justified,” Shaun says archly, as Neil has to silently concede that he’d set himself up for that one.
“I thought you two were arguing about me.” Audrey sounds like she has no idea where she lost track of their conversation.
“How shocking that they’ve managed to become completely absorbed in each other, as usual.” Morgan’s tone is dry as she glances amongst the three of them. “I can’t remember if I missed this or not.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Audrey informs her, ignoring Morgan’s sputtering protests in favor of turning to Shaun. “So Murphy, a few minutes ago, Reznick was telling me that you all barely survived without us.”
“I don’t remember those exact words,” Morgan mumbles, petulant enough that if Neil hadn’t already been inclined to believe Audrey, he would have immediately done so.
“It was…” Shaun’s looking out the darkened windows behind Audrey, briefly shutting his eyes before turning back to her. “…different. Without you.”
Sympathy flashes across her face when she hears the unhappy nuance to his words. “Different, hmm? That sounds like code for ‘awful’.” Shaun doesn’t argue her interpretation (and quite tellingly, neither does Morgan this time).
“I told you,” Shaun says slowly, “I’m glad you’re home.”
“We’re both glad,” Morgan says quickly.
Audrey waves her coffee back and forth between them with amusement. “You two kids want to fight over which one of you is happier about it?”
“Audrey,” Neil interjects, getting the ominous feeling that she’s going to somehow turn this into a commentary on his misery the past week, “we don’t have to compare how much we all missed each other.”
“But I have so much fun doing that,” she says slyly. “And if we’re debating who I missed the most, I have to go with the resident who got me coffee.” She takes another sip, causing Neil to grimace in sympathy. “Reznick bought my favor—sorry, Murphy.”
“I was trying to do no such thing,” Morgan insists, unable to hide her smug satisfaction. “…Even though you just admitted it worked.”
“I was kidding,” Audrey tries to backtrack. “Though this coffee is really good… No!” she scolds herself out of it. “Remember that I’m you, Reznick, just ten years in the future. So don’t ever think you’re getting anything past me.”
Morgan might be trying not to laugh. “I would never think that, Dr. Lim.”
“Sure you wouldn’t,” Audrey mutters.
Neil figures it’s his obligation to back up his fellow attending, since she’d do the same for him. Occasionally. (Besides, they need to present a united front against the residents, right?) “Reznick, what you’re forgetting is that Audrey’s been around…and around…and around the block.” He relishes the way Audrey’s expression is getting progressively darker. “You might say a thousand—no, a million times—”
“Watch it,” she snaps. “We’re the same age.”
“But no one would ever know it, since you look considerably—”
“This coffee doesn’t need to stay in this cup.”
“—younger than me,” he finishes smoothly. “What did you think I was going to say?”
It’s Shaun who interrupts her mild death glare at Neil, watching her with no small amount of disapproval. “You are more than ten—”
“You can stop right there,” Audrey cuts in. “You might be able to harass Melendez about his advancing years—”
“We’re the same age,” Neil says incredulously. “As you just pointed out!”
“—but unlike him, I have youthful vitality on my side. So those jokes don’t land with me.”
“I was not making a joke,” Shaun says, confused. “I was stating a fact, which is that you are more than ten years older than Morgan. Why would you lie ab–”
“I wasn’t lying. I was rounding.” She turns to Neil. “Would you do something?”
“Like what?” he asks innocently. In truth, there are any number of things he could say or do in order to distract Shaun, but he’s not inclined to follow through with any of them—not least of all because he rather enjoys seeing the younger man unintentionally rile her up in a way she can’t even get upset with Murphy about. (No, she’s content to direct her irritation at Neil, instead.)
“I don’t know,” she tries to throw her hands up, but remembers her drink at the last second and reins the motion in. “Kiss him or something.”
Of all the things in the world to suggest… “Audrey.”
“It would not work,” Shaun says, ever practical. “I would resume talking after.”
“Sounds like a challenge to me, Melendez.” Audrey’s enjoying this to an unhealthy degree (because Neil works with people who love to torture him).
“It was not a challenge,” Shaun must feel compelled to add.
“Is he not that good at it?” Morgan loudly whispers to Shaun. “Because kissing always distracts me—if the other person knows what they’re doing, of course.” She casts a skeptical glance at Neil, like she doesn’t think he’s capable of that much.
“I resent that,” Neil snaps. “I’m very good at it and I’d prove it if I could. Which I can’t. Because it’d involve kissing everyone here.” What is he saying? He clears his throat, muttering, “So you’ll have to take my word for it.”
Audrey’s trying to stifle her laughter by sipping her coffee, which isn’t going well; Morgan looks vaguely horrified at Neil’s hypothetical scenario (though not more than him, he’s certain); and Shaun is watching him with a neutral expression, even as his eyes reveal that he’s actually amused.
There’s a very long silence where they all continue standing at an impasse, though he catches a couple fleeting glances the two women send Shaun’s way, and it hits Neil rather abruptly: this is the kind of situation where they’d expect Shaun to speak up in Neil’s defense. Like he so often does, usually when it’s not needed. And yet, this time it seems it hasn’t occurred to him.
Neil can’t take it anymore and waves at Shaun in fond exasperation. “This, Murphy! This is when you can feel free to vouch for me.”
Shaun blinks a few times, then must realize the women are watching him expectantly. “Neil is…he’s…very good…at it?”
“Are you asking us?” Morgan laughs a little, the scolding unusually gentle for her. “What a ringing endorsement of his abilities.”
Shaun doesn’t laugh along with her, and even though he’s looking at Neil, he appears to be lost in thought. “Neil is…he can…” He glances down, maybe searching for the best explanation to convince their friends of feelings he doesn’t have. The pause lasts long enough that Neil thinks he’s given up until Shaun looks back up at him and says, “He can make you forget who you are.”
Neil doesn’t look away from Shaun. Or maybe he can’t look away from him. Because Shaun doesn’t sound like he’s trying to convince anyone of anything. He sounds like he’s relating a fact, something that’s true for him and that he doesn’t mind everyone else knowing.
Which is rather remarkable given that their relationship isn’t real.
And they’d only kissed that one time.
Has Shaun really gotten that much better at this charade? Or is he, as Neil suspects, talking about their kiss at the holiday gala? Had Shaun been so completely thrown by it that ‘forgetting’ himself was the best description he could come up with? And if so…
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Neil hears himself asking, in an echo of their conversation from earlier.
“A good thing,” Shaun easily answers. “When it comes to us, it’s always good things.”
So Neil hadn’t been the only one who remembered. He can’t help his smile upon hearing Shaun repeat his own words back to him. “Sounds like something a wise person would say.”
“Yes,” Shaun agrees, waiting a beat. “I just said it.” (Apparently he’s back to harassing Neil, one of his favorite things to do.) Neil tries to send him a warning look that ultimately fails because there’s no actual ‘warning’ behind it—and Shaun knows it.
“Only ‘good’, huh Shaun?” Morgan needles, surprising Neil into remembering that she and Audrey are still right next to them.
“More than good,” Shaun tells her, and Neil recognizes his change in tone back to the enthusiastic one he loves using when he’s trying to convince other people about them. “The best.”
“Now, I’d say that’s a ringing endorsement.” Audrey’s words are light, twisting Morgan’s earlier sarcasm into something genuinely sincere.
Shaun opens his mouth to continue his no doubt fervent praise, but Morgan speaks before he can. “You don’t have to rub it in, Murphy.” She’s exasperated, which is rather comical considering she’d been the one to steer him down this path only moments before. “You’re happy. We get it.”
Shaun shrugs, like maybe it’s all beyond him. “Yes.”
They’re still close enough that it’d be easy for Neil to lean over and kiss him. Just like that first time—the only time. But he had a reason back then. And now…he doesn’t.
Sometimes Neil wonders if that night had been a fluke. If it was simply a chance occurrence in space and time that shouldn’t have happened and definitely shouldn’t be repeated.
But that doesn’t stop him from wondering…
If they kissed again, what would it be like? Would it feel like nothing?
Or would his thoughts scatter and disappear the way they had the last time his mouth touched Shaun’s?
And is that what Shaun meant when he said it made him forget who he was?
“—bringing back some welcome memories for me, Shaun,” Morgan’s saying, the words snapping Neil back to reality. “Some very welcome memories.” She’s staring off into space, reliving a moment that Neil’s glad he can’t see, and while he’s grateful for the reprieve from his wayward thoughts, this isn’t a conversation he wants to let continue much further.
He snaps his fingers a few times, waiting until she refocuses on him. “No one wants to hear about your personal life, Reznick.”
“I might want to hear about it,” Audrey says, then winces at her own words. “My God, since when do I care about the personal lives of my residents?”
“Oh, sure,” Morgan’s complaining to Neil, as she gestures between him and Shaun, “it’s fine for everyone to witness your personal life play out in high definition on a daily basis, but hearing about mine in passing is too much for your delicate sensibilities.”
“It is when it comes to certain topics.” Neil eyes her warily. “It seemed like you were about to get into too much detail. Or something worse, such as…” It’s disconcerting to think it, let alone say it. “…kissing techniques.”
“I’ve yet to receive any complaints,” she says sweetly, as Neil rubs his eyes in a futile attempt at erasing the images—nebulous though they are—from his mind. “I’d be more than happy to lend my expertise.”
“Please,” Shaun sounds as pained as Neil feels, “do not.”
“I can’t believe how much I’m enjoying this.” Audrey’s smirking in Neil’s direction, probably because most of her ‘enjoyment’ is due to his increasing discomfort. “Maybe I’ve been alone for too long,” she adds, thoughtfully.
“It’s never too late to find someone, Dr. Lim,” Morgan says, seriously.
“Did I say I thought it was too late?” Audrey snaps. “I’m not exactly old.” She sends a sideways look to Neil. “Although…I’d definitely need someone younger than you.”
“We’re the same—” He breaks off, giving up with a sigh. “Never mind.”
“If you’re looking for someone younger,” Morgan suggests, “you could expand your dating pool to include the residents—it’s worked wonders for Dr. Melendez.”
Audrey’s just taken a sip of her coffee and almost inhales it at the suggestion. “The day I ever date a resident is the day I need to be removed from my job due to senility.” She smiles broadly at Neil. “No offense.”
He stares at her. “Why would I take offense at that?”
“Have you met our residents?” she muses, carelessly.
He knows enough to answer cautiously in front of both Shaun and Morgan (especially because of the latter’s rapidly increasing annoyance). “I am familiar with them, yes.”
“Then the question answers itself,” Audrey claims, ignoring Morgan’s huff of displeasure in order to wink at Shaun. “You got the last good resident we had. If I can’t do better than Murphy, why bother?”
Shaun, of course, defends everyone. “We are all good residents.” He’s definitely wary of their current topic (and Audrey’s compliment), but Neil’s glad that he doesn’t seem upset by her sense of…well, she calls it humor.
“Alright,” Audrey relents, “I suppose I can admit that Claire and Park are mostly tolerable.” She snaps her fingers, like something brilliant has just occurred to her. “Are they both single? They should get together. That might work.”
Neil wonders if she’d said that on purpose to irritate Morgan even more than she’s already irritated, but Audrey doesn’t so much as glance her way, which tells him she really has no idea what’s going on in their residents’ lives. (And oh, how Neil misses those carefree days, but not enough to go back to them…which might have a lot to do with the fact that Shaun hadn’t been such an important part of his life back then.)
“Ahem?” Morgan crosses her arms for effect. “Claire and…” She pauses for a half-second that Neil’s pretty sure only he notices. “…Alex get complimented—”
“She called them mostly tolerable,” Shaun interjects. “That is not a compliment.”
“Believe me, Park would take it as one.” Morgan’s smile is distant and not for any of the people she’s currently with, though she quickly returns to leveling her accusations at Audrey. “Meanwhile, every other resident, save Murphy, gets…‘you’d have to be senile to date them’.”
Audrey shrugs impassively. “And?”
“You could at least wait until I’m not standing right here if you’re going to insult me!”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Neil quips, instantly regretting it when he draws her attention.
Luckily for him, Audrey draws it right back. “Sorry, Reznick, did you want to date me?”
“I don’t think dating my attending would be the wisest decision to make,” Morgan says blithely, probably savoring the opportunity to throw a mild insult back at her boss. When Shaun shifts his weight from one foot to the other, Morgan immediately holds up a hand to stave off the protest she knows is coming. “Not you.” She tosses a glance Neil’s way to include him in her next statement. “You two are, as always—” she exaggeratedly sighs, though there’s a lightness to it, “—an exception.”
The pause after her words is significant: everyone seems to understand that Shaun wants to reply to that, but needs a moment to think it over. Audrey knows better than to chime in with a snide joke or comment, and Morgan just waits for Shaun’s response as patiently as Neil. After a few long moments, Shaun settles on a simple, if somewhat lost, “Why?”
“Because we’re not talking about the same things,” she answers. “There’s a difference between casually dating someone and being in love with them. I would never recommend anyone casually date their boss—or their subordinate—but if those people already have strong feelings for each other, then in my opinion, that qualifies for an exception.”
Instead of being satisfied with that, Shaun only seems bothered by it. “Most people do not fall in love until they begin dating,” he says, slowly. “That is the point of dating: for two people to determine if they are compatible. To see if they can develop stronger feelings for each other on which to base a solid relationship…and a future.” He’s getting more frustrated as he continues. “If people followed your suggestion and never dated unless they had strong feelings first, very few people would date at all.”
“That’s why I specified boss and subordinate,” Morgan replies, in a tone practical enough that it’s often mistaken for cold. “That relationship’s complicated enough without adding romance—personally, I don’t think anyone should risk it unless there are feelings involved first.” She shrugs, appearing apologetic now, and Neil actually believes it’s sincere. “I didn’t mean to suggest there was a wrong way to start a relationship, I was only stating my opinion on the matter. I guess I was under the impression that you and Dr. Melendez had feelings for each other first and that’s why you got together.” She’s studying Shaun, intensely curious. “Is that not how it happened?”
Shaun takes a breath, like he’s about to answer, and then he just…doesn’t. In fact, he stops looking at them altogether in favor of staring out the windows again, as if he’s done with the topic entirely.
Neil has no idea what Shaun’s issue with the question is, only that he must have one, because even though they don’t get too many questions like Morgan’s, Shaun has proven himself more than capable of answering them—he even enjoys answering when it’s someone like Aaron throwing what he thinks are trick questions their way. In the few other instances that Neil can remember where they’d been put on the spot, Shaun had responded by going on about their relationship in the easy (and over-the-top) way he tends to favor. It’s not like Morgan asked something difficult: all Shaun has to do is agree or disagree with her and Neil will back him up. Neil will always back him up—and Shaun knows it.
So the fact that Shaun’s chosen not to answer is…disconcerting. (Neil isn’t sure why it’s so disconcerting, but it is.)
There’s a strange tension building after the abrupt drop-off to their conversation, and Neil worries that it means Morgan’s about to press the issue. He’s not going to wait and see if it happens, either—Shaun not wanting to answer is the only reason Neil needs to move on. He’s about to divert Morgan’s attention, but Audrey gets there first, albeit in a different manner.
“Why are we grilling Murphy on his personal life?” she asks, on a note of warning, which immediately sets the younger woman back on her heels.
“It’s hardly grilling,” Morgan retorts, drawing herself up straighter. “It was an innocent question.”
“Like you know the meaning of that word,” Neil accuses, drawing her ire on purpose—the more time she spends annoyed with him, the less time she has to focus on Shaun.
“It was innocent,” Morgan insists, more upset than she should be, which makes Neil suspect she’s telling the truth.
Audrey casts a measuring look between Neil and Morgan, then says to her resident, “A week of him without any escape. Can you feel my pain?” The two women share a commiserating look that Neil doesn’t appreciate. Not at all.
“Stop that,” Neil orders. “If any two people should be commiserating around here, it should be me and Murphy commiserating about you two.”
Audrey holds up her hand, stage whispering behind it to Morgan, “A week.”
“That must have been incredibly difficult, Dr. Lim,” Morgan says sadly, with a sympathetic pat on her attending’s arm for good measure. Yes, she actually pats Audrey Lim on the arm and instead of verbally flaying her resident, Lim just smiles and nods in agreement.
Neil has no idea what he’s watching, but he doesn’t think it bodes well for him in any universe if they decide to gang up on him.
Then again, no one’s paying attention to Shaun anymore…and Morgan seems to have forgotten her earlier curiosity about how their relationship began… (Maybe Audrey deserves more credit than he’d thought.)
Neil isn’t at all surprised that Audrey would change the course of the conversation by complaining about him. Loudly. She’s still doing it, in fact, while Morgan nods along in rapt attention.
“Why’d I come back to California?” Neil glances up at the ceiling in an exaggerated display of how put out he is. “Someone remind me, because I haven’t even been home an hour and I’m already thinking about buying a return ticket to New York.”
“You are not,” Shaun says, voice low, and closer than Neil had thought. He glances over to find his resident frowning at him and there’s too much unhappiness in the expression for Neil’s liking.
“If anyone could push me to it, it’d be our colleagues,” Neil insists, even as he reaches down to find Shaun’s hand so he can run his thumb over the back of it, amazed that a gesture so simple can bring about such a radiating sense of calm. Shaun’s expression eases and he tilts his head, assessing in a way that reminds Neil the younger man knows him. (And when Shaun doesn’t feel like humoring Neil’s theatrics, he takes just as much delight in calling him out on them.)
“Not our colleagues, our friends,” Shaun corrects, placing a distinct emphasis on the last word.
“Semantics,” Neil shrugs, refusing to give in.
Shaun shakes his head, probably in exasperation at Neil’s stubbornness. “You are not going back to New York just because our friends—” he pauses significantly, “—are irritating.”
The dual protests from Morgan and Audrey cause Neil to smile—he takes great pleasure in ignoring them. “How about this, Murphy: if I go back, you’re coming with me.”
Shaun’s answer is to move another step closer as he hums in agreement.
Neil automatically shifts his weight to the other leg, a silent invitation that Shaun instantly understands and accepts, leaning into Neil’s side. Shaun twists his hand so he can tighten his fingers around Neil’s (in affection and gratitude and comfort and the hundred other emotions between them that are always there even if they’re not always spoken out loud), and that’s when Neil remembers —
This goes both ways.
Shaun had been just as unhappy during their separation as Neil. In fact, that’s probably why he’s keeping a lot closer to Neil than he normally would. They’re used to being in each other’s space, by now, but it’s not something they tend to keep up for prolonged periods of time around other people, like in public or at work…
Unless they’re trying to make a point about their relationship for the benefit of others.
Or one of them needs the other—Shaun because he’s struggling or Neil because Shaun’s often the only calm he can find in the middle of chaos.
Or one of them simply wants to be closer to the other—no reason necessary.
(Alright, so maybe they spend a lot more time in close proximity than Neil had previously realized.)
Morgan and Audrey have wandered off in the direction of the baggage claim, leaving Neil and Shaun to follow at their own pace (which Neil figures was probably intentional).
Shaun lets go of him when they start walking, but he doesn’t leave that much space between them, their arms occasionally brushing as they follow the signs through a few corridors. Neil glances over, but Shaun’s not looking his way, focused instead on the hallway in front of them (though Neil doesn’t think he’s seeing it).
“You alright?” he asks quietly, because even though he suspects that Shaun simply missed him, he doesn’t want to overlook any potentially more serious reasons for the younger man’s desire to be near him.
Shaun looks at him blankly until Neil presses his arm against Shaun’s, nodding between them, and something guarded (if not outright troubled) enters the other man’s expression. “I should not—”
“Walk next to me?” Neil interrupts, mostly because he doesn’t want to hear whatever Shaun was about to say.
Shaun comes to a stop, which Neil only realizes when he’s two steps ahead and his resident’s no longer at his side. “I should give you more space,” Shaun says, as Neil turns back to face him.
“Did I say I want more space?” Neil asks. When Shaun just looks at him, he adds, “Do I ever want more space?”
“I…” It seems like Shaun thought he knew the answer, but lost it while he was speaking. “I don’t know.”
“No,” Neil tells him. “The answer is no.” He thinks back over their short conversation, trying to determine where things went wrong. “That wasn’t some roundabout way of telling you I want more space. Or that I don’t like it when you’re near me. The only thing I want is an answer to the question I asked.”
Shaun must be rewinding their conversation now, too. “If I’m alright?”
Neil hears what Shaun’s really asking: not confirmation of the question, but the reason behind it. “Sometimes, when you’re close to me…it means you’re not alright.”
New understanding crosses Shaun’s face, and with it comes an obvious relaxation of his demeanor. “That is true,” he acknowledges, “but it’s not the case right now.” He looks down at his hands, which he’s folded in front of himself. “I told you that I did not like it when you weren’t here.”
No, he hadn’t. Shaun said he didn’t like it when Neil was in New York; it’s a subtle distinction, but an important one. Rephrasing it means Shaun’s comfortable enough right now to admit the real problem (which Neil already knew—he’d known it the moment Shaun couldn’t let go of him).
Shaun looks back up at him after the silence goes on too long, and Neil reminds himself that Shaun cannot, in fact, read his mind. “I told you I didn’t like it either,” Neil reminds him (and there’s that twisting around his heart again). “But I’m here now.”
“You’re here now,” Shaun echoes, and when he takes a careful step forward, Neil recognizes it as another question: he wants to make sure it's okay to be closer to Neil right now.
His answer is to draw Shaun closer by his sleeve. On the surface, the move is so Neil can lower his voice and still be heard, but it’s really an excuse to erase most of the distance between them. “So what you’re trying to tell me is that you’re alright?”
“I am.” Shaun’s voice lightens considerably when he adds, “I’m more than alright.”
Neil appreciates the wash of relief, confident enough that they’ve resolved the misunderstanding to joke, “What’s more than alright?”
“Good?” There’s too much humor in his tone for Shaun to have chosen the word by accident.
“Good, huh?” Neil pretends to think on that. “Do you ever feel like we’re having the same conversations over and over again, Murphy?”
“Yes,” Shaun says, “but I don’t mind.”
The unexpected seriousness of his answer causes Neil to forget whatever joke he’d been planning to make. Instead, he nudges Shaun’s arm again, saying with a grin, “I don’t mind, either. In fact, I might even enjoy it.”
Shaun nods in thoughtful agreement, then begins smiling when he asks, “Which one of us do you think enjoys it more?”
Neil can’t even attempt a straight face at that question. “I bet we enjoy it the same.”
“I like that,” Shaun agrees. “Even though we could never know for cert–”
Neil starts laughing the instant he realizes what Shaun’s doing. “You’re really going to repeat your same argument from last time? Verbatim, no less.”
“I told you I did not mind having the same conversations over and over,” Shaun solemnly reminds him, like he hasn’t done this on purpose. (Like Neil can’t read him instantly, can’t recognize by his resident’s half-smile, and the light in his eyes, that he’d taken the ‘literal’ part to extremes as a joke, just to see Neil’s reaction.)
Neil suddenly knows that his earlier agreement hadn’t gone far enough—he’d be perfectly content to have these kinds of conversations forever.
As long as they’re with Shaun.
Chapter 11
Summary:
They finally escape the airport! (Well, at the very end and technically after the chapter ends, but still...) It only took them (yes, them, not me) 2 months?? After this, there will be one more significant arc, and then the story wraps up. Probably. I make no promises anymore because I know myself too well and I can always think of things to add, but I can see the end in sight, it's just a matter of getting there.
As always, much love to everyone who has left kind words and encouragement on this, you will probably never know how much it means to me. <3
Chapter Text
Neil and Shaun aren’t even in sight of the correct baggage carousel when a too-familiar voice cuts through the din of the people around them.
“I’ll sue the airline if they lost my bag, and believe me, I’ll win,” Audrey’s loudly complaining (presumably to Morgan, but it could be directed at an airline employee, or hell, just the crowds in general). “I know some very expensive lawyers!”
Neil stops walking in order to rub at his temples, which earns him a concerned glance from Shaun, just as he’d known it would (but he couldn’t stop himself). “I’m fine,” he promises, then gestures vaguely towards where he’d heard her voice. “Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.”
His resident’s studying him in a way that gives Neil pause—Shaun’s assessing him in the way he assesses Shaun whenever he’s trying to figure out if anything’s wrong. “Who do you think it is?” the younger man asks, carefully.
Neil laughs shortly despite himself, wincing when the movement causes a twinge of pain in his neck. This might be the beginning of a headache; there’s no serious pain yet, but the tightness in his shoulders and neck is a warning sign that if he doesn’t get away from his co-workers soon (and one of them in particular, Audrey Lim), he’ll be paying for it later. “Right now I’m hoping that Lim has a voice twin,” he tells Shaun. “Or maybe that I’m not really in an airport at all. Maybe the entire week in New York was a dream. Or a nightmare.”
“You are awake and the week was not a dream.” Shaun’s curt tone says a lot more about his thoughts on Neil’s trip than any complaint he might have added. “And that was Dr. Lim speaking. She did not sound happy.”
“She’s never happy,” Neil mutters, even though he knows it’s both unfair and untrue. He’s still not in the best mood. Getting home and seeing Shaun has gone a long way towards setting things right in his world, but he still needs time to recover. That means time alone in his apartment with uninterrupted sleep and preferably lots of silence. Silence. (He’s forgotten what it sounds like.)
“I’ve seen Dr. Lim happy many times,” Shaun’s saying, with a faint note of disapproval. He’s not defending Audrey so much as pointing out that Neil’s statement was wrong. (Neil amends his earlier list: he needs sleep, silence, and Shaun in order to recover from his trip—not necessarily in that order.)
“I know,” Neil relents, a lot faster than he would with anyone else. “I just need a break from her.” He rubs at the back of his neck, relieved when it helps alleviate some of his tension. “You know how if you spend a lot of time with one person, sometimes you just can’t take them anymore? I need some separation after seven straight days with Audrey, most of them from morning until evening. I’m not trying to insult her, either. She feels the same way about me.” He waits a beat before adding wryly, “If not even more strongly.”
Shaun’s not looking at him when he says, “I spend most of my time with…you.”
“You trying to tell me something, Murphy?” Neil’s joke is automatic, which he’d have to blame on the fact that he’s not firing on all cylinders after a taxing week (capped off with what seems like the longest day he’s had in months).
Shaun doesn’t answer for a few long seconds. “Are you?”
The hesitation in his words clears away Neil’s lingering exhaustion, the question surprising him in a way it really shouldn’t. “No, I don’t feel that way about you.” He lets the statement stand between them for a significant moment. “I would tell you if I did, just like I told Audrey all week long.”
“Okay,” Shaun says, relaxing a little—it wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else, but Neil can see it.
Something new occurs to Neil and he’s flooded with what he assumes is the same discomfort (and is that fear?) that Shaun was experiencing. “You would tell me if you felt that way,” he orders, trying for stern, but he’s afraid it sounds more worried than anything else.
“I would never tell you that.”
“Murphy. You would.”
“I wouldn’t,” Shaun stubbornly insists.
Neil takes a calming breath, because this is too important to let go. Except he’s not even sure how to phrase it now—not in a way that Shaun will agree with. “You have to tell me if you ever feel like…we see too much of each other.”
“No,” Shaun says, and just when Neil feels his frustration reaching insurmountable levels, his resident explains, “I would not tell you that because it isn’t true.”
Their conversation rearranges itself, clicking into place in a way it hadn’t before. “Okay,” Neil breathes, mostly in relief, “but if your opinion on that ever changes—”
“It will not,” Shaun interrupts. “It will never change.”
Neil had been pretty sure that was the case, but Shaun’s worry had sparked a corresponding cascade of worry all his own. They’ve discussed their ‘relationship’ plenty, but never specifically talked about whether they want to continue spending as much time together as they currently do. Neil had never broached the topic because he’d never thought he had to—and it turns out his intuition had been right.
(He really should trust himself better—everyone knows that he’s almost always right.)
“Never, huh?” he asks Shaun lightly. “That implies a very long time.”
“Yes.” There’s a hint of a smile on Shaun’s face now. “It does.”
Neil’s about to tell him that his opinion’s never going to change, either, but his phone vibrating stops him before he can. An ominous feeling sweeps over him when Shaun takes out his own phone at the same time—that’s usually not a good thing. (All too often, it’s a terrible thing.)
Neil lets out an internal sigh of relief when a quick glance at the display reveals it’s not the hospital—he never thought he’d be so happy to see a message from Audrey…until he registers that she’s sent him and Shaun a group text.
Maybe he’d jumped the gun on that whole ‘relief’ thing.
He puts his phone away without bothering to open the message, while Shaun (of course) reads it instantly.
“Dr. Lim would like to know where we are.”
“That’s how she politely phrased it?”
“…No.”
Neil hadn’t needed the confirmation, though it annoys him that she’d take her irritation out on Shaun instead of just on him. He reluctantly takes out his phone again to read her message (which is shockingly expletive-free, though he still takes issue with the tone).
He composes a new message and sends it only to her: Don’t make me block your number.
Her response to that is decidedly not expletive-free.
She must have texted another message to Shaun, too, because his resident is shaking his head at his phone. “Dr. Lim would like me to do a better job of keeping you in line.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“I don’t.” Shaun puts his phone back in his pocket, and there’s that hint of a smile again. “I like the way you are.”
A statement that simple really shouldn’t cause Neil to feel as much affection as he does. He returns Shaun’s smile, even as he laments, “Why can’t everyone be as appreciative of my charm as you, Murphy?”
“I do not know if ‘charm’ is the most accurate word.”
“Oh, it definitely is,” Neil argues. “Those who disagree are simply jealous they don’t expertly wield that ability the way I do.”
“Envious,” Shaun corrects. “Envious is the better word if you mean that people would want your charm for themselves. Jealousy better expresses a fear that someone will take something you have. However, the definitions of both words are evolving because people use them interchangeably without knowing, or acknowledging, the difference.”
“Guess I’m one of those people,” Neil says, wondering why he never feels chastised even when Shaun’s lecturing him (in fact, he’s usually only charmed by it—which is rather ironic, given the topic. …Or is it ironic? He’s tempted to say his thoughts out loud just to see if Shaun will correct him on that, too).
“Yes,” Shaun’s saying, “you have proven that you cannot distinguish between the two words.”
“Funny, Murphy.”
“I am not trying to be funny.”
“You do realize that you just admitted I’m charming?”
Shaun might be appalled at his possible slip-up. “I did not say that.”
“You might as well have,” Neil insists, and just when Shaun’s about to continue arguing, he jokes, “You still sure you like the way I am?”
Shaun’s stance relaxes, argument entirely forgotten. “I will always be sure of that.”
Neil looks past Shaun (because standing there and grinning at him all night is not going to speed up getting out of this godforsaken airport), and notices the crowd’s beginning to thin out as people collect their luggage and make their way to the exit. Despite that, he still doesn’t see Morgan or Audrey, though the latter’s texts prove that she’s actively searching for the next person on whom to take out her frustration, and Neil’s certain he will be that person…if he’s not already. “How about we go back the way we came and find a different exit?” he suggests to Shaun, unsure of how much he’s actually kidding.
“Morgan is the one who drove here.”
“I’ll order a car. They’ll be fine without us.”
“You don’t have your suitcase,” Shaun points out, as if that’s his main objection to the plan (when Neil knows it’s not).
“I kept everything important in my carry-on.” Neil shrugs his shoulder, indicating the bag he’s slung over it. “So I don’t really need my suitcase, not when I can replace everything that’s in it.”
“That would be expensive,” Shaun informs him. “You would also have to buy a new suitcase.”
“I can afford it.” He could afford it a hundred times over and Shaun knows it, so that means it’s not about the money, but about Shaun’s disapproval.
“That’s very wasteful,” Shaun tells him, proving Neil’s thoughts.
“I’m sure they’d donate the one I left here. Or something.” He actually has no clue what they do with suitcases that remain unclaimed.
Shaun takes his uncertainty as invitation to answer his unspoken question. “If you did not claim your suitcase, the airline would try to contact you to return it. If they could not find you within ninety days, they would sell the entire suitcase and its contents to the Unclaimed Baggage Store in Alabama. The store sorts through the items, donating or selling anything of value, and the rest gets thrown away.”
Just when Neil thinks he’s stumbled upon a question that Shaun might not be able to answer—despite his seemingly endless fountain of knowledge—new depths are revealed. “How do you know that?”
“I read it when I moved from Wyoming to California,” Shaun says. “It was a feature story of the airline’s in-flight magazine.”
Neil’s not sure which part of that to question first. “A feature story?”
“Yes.” Shaun appears to be contemplating Neil’s disbelief. “I suppose interesting topics related to flying are limited.”
“You found it interesting?”
“Very.” Shaun narrows his eyes the slightest bit. “Are you going to keep emphasizing random words in your questions?”
“They’re not random, they’re perfectly reasonable words to emphasize. And yes, now I think I have to.” Neil presses his mouth into a straight line in an attempt at suppressing his smile. “I had no idea people actually read those magazines.”
Shaun’s exhale is a little too loud. “I am a person and I read one,” he succinctly summarizes. “So yes, people read them.”
“Admirable refusal to take the bait, Murphy.”
“I have a vast amount of experience with you.”
Neil’s subsequent laughter is interrupted by Audrey. Shouting his name. From across the room.
Since Shaun’s facing her general direction and Neil’s back is to her, he pleads, “Tell me she’s only blindly hoping I’m nearby and can’t actually see me.” When Shaun scans the crowd behind Neil, raising a hand in greeting, Neil quickly pushes it back down. “What are you doing? You’re going to give us away!”
“Dr. Lim has perfectly adequate eyesight,” Shaun says, raising his hand again. “If I can see her, she can see us.”
“It’s not too late,” Neil tries, one last time. “I don’t think you understand how worth our while it would be to leave.”
Shaun doesn’t respond to that, instead brushing by Neil to head over to one of the endlessly circling baggage carousels at the far end of the room. Neil has no choice except to follow…which Shaun had very well known.
“Where did you two go?” Audrey’s demanding of Shaun, as Neil approaches the group. “Did you take the longest detour possible through the airport to get here? I thought you might have left.”
As much as Neil might like to ignore her questions entirely, it’s unfair to make Shaun answer her when it was technically Neil’s fault that they’d taken their time catching up (and if he’d had his way, they’d never have caught up at all). “You’re paranoid,” he tells her dismissively, which should be the end of it as far as he’s concerned, but then he feels Shaun’s eyes on him… “However, Murphy’s going to make up a story about how I wanted to leave and that he…dissuaded me.”
“Oh, yeah right,” Audrey sniffs, in disbelief. (Not that it had been a halfway plausible lie.) “Murphy’s too good for you.”
That’s…actually true. (He might be in real trouble if Audrey’s starting to make sense.) “Don’t I know it.”
“He wanted to leave,” Shaun tells her, then turns back to Neil. “I did not ‘dissuade’ you, I walked away from you.”
“Don’t you get it, Shaun?” Morgan’s looking between them with a perfectly crafted smirk. “That’s the most effective dissuasion there is when it comes to Dr. Melendez.”
Neil wants to argue with her, but infuriatingly he can’t, because it’s another thing that’s true.
He and Shaun have been known to debate everything, from the most mundane topics to life and death matters. Nothing gets Neil to seriously reconsider his stance, or a course of action, more than a perfectly reasoned argument—and with Shaun, no serious argument is anything less than perfectly reasoned. They’re usually able to come to a satisfactory agreement or compromise, and as such, Shaun walks away from him a lot less than he walks away from anyone else—but when he does, that’s when Neil knows that he’s lost, because it either means that Shaun’s come up with some other way to achieve what he wants, or he’s deemed Neil’s arguments (or behavior) as too ridiculous to entertain.
So alright, maybe ditching Audrey and Morgan would be going a little far, even for Neil. No matter how justified it might be.
He’d been mostly joking, anyways. (Or so he’d claim if anyone truly pressed him on it.)
“While you two were taking your damn time,” Audrey’s back to complaining, “I’ve been standing around waiting for my suitcase. Which still hasn’t appeared, despite the fact that we landed forever ago. And I know some of the people who got theirs were on our flight.” She’s glaring around at random people (and Neil doesn’t bother pointing out that the undeserving subjects of her current ire haven’t gotten their luggage, either—hence why they’re still hanging around the baggage claim). “How long does it take to unload a few suitcases from a plane and throw them onto a conveyor belt? I could easily go do it myself.”
“You could not,” Shaun says. “You would be arrested if you tried to access the plane or any secure areas of the airport, such as baggage handling.”
Neil might like the sound of that. “Audrey, I think it’s a great idea,” he encourages, as her ire turns from random passengers to him. “You should go try and hurry things along. We’ll wait right here for you.”
“I don’t have enough to cover your bail,” Morgan says, bored tone revealing what she thinks of their current topic. “So don’t make me your one phone call when you’re tackled by the TSA and dragged off to airport jail.”
Neil has a lot of fun imagining that scenario, but Shaun’s already shaking his head. “Actually—”
“Yes, Murphy,” Morgan quickly interrupts, “I know you could explain the whole detention process. In excruciating detail. But my point is: who runs the TSA?”
“The Department of Homeland Security,” Shaun supplies.
“What a specific answer.” The sincerity of her smile negates the bite to the words. “But it’s close enough to what I wanted to hear, which is the federal government.” She turns to Audrey. “Do you want to never be heard from again? Because that’s how you’re never heard from again.”
Neil really can’t believe the conversations he gets dragged into sometimes. (Or maybe he can, which is even scarier.) “Our government isn’t disappearing its citizens, Reznick.”
“Or is that what they want you to think?”
Audrey’s expression indicates her thoughts on the matter are pretty much aligned with Neil’s. “Reznick, keep your conspiracy theories to yourself. And I’m not going searching for my suitcase. Not because I’m afraid of—” if possible, her voice gets even more dry, “—never being heard from again. The real reason is that I’m too lazy to do it.”
“Imagine my shock,” Neil says, under his breath. When he feels Audrey’s stare turn to him, he pointedly doesn’t acknowledge her, instead looking at Shaun silently for help. It’s always a toss-up on whether his resident will bail him out of the situations that are…sometimes…of his own making, but he’s in luck tonight—maybe because of how much Shaun had missed him.
“Dr. Lim,” Shaun begins, recapturing her attention, “suing the airline would be a waste of your time because there is already a set amount they are legally required to compensate people for lost luggage. They generally settle such claims without a fight.”
“I don’t care,” she grumbles, petulantly. “I’m still going to do it. Out of spite.” (And she has the audacity to claim Neil is petty, at times.)
“Let’s give them a few more minutes before filing suit,” Morgan suggests, seemingly in an effort to calm down her attending, but the subtle mocking in it has Audrey narrowing her eyes over her coffee.
“I’ve given them ‘a few more minutes’ about ten times over, by this point.” Audrey’s gaze sweeps over Shaun, Morgan, and (oh great) resettles back on Neil. “It’s like the universe wanted to ensure we had to spend as much time with each other today as possible.”
“We did land over an hour ago,” Neil says, hoping his agreement will appease her somewhat, because as frustrated as he is, another fight will only make things worse. (He is capable of showing restraint…when it makes his life easier.)
“Your suitcase isn’t here,” Shaun tells him, which reminds Neil that he hadn’t even looked for it on the baggage carousel. (It’s a wonder he remembers anything around these people.)
Neil absently scans the conveyor next to them, which is awash in a sea of interchangeable black and gray suitcases, with an occasional colorful one to break up the monotony. Many of the bags have brightly-colored tags to allow their owners to easily spot their own (Neil’s is orange—Shaun had attached it to his suitcase at some point before the trip). Sure enough, he spies nothing orange amidst the mostly indistinguishable suitcases.
“We’ve been here forever,” Morgan takes over complaining from Audrey, promptly forgetting she’d begged for patience not thirty seconds before. “Why didn’t you two take a different airline? Like one that offered the option of tracking your luggage?”
“Andrews booked our flight,” Audrey says, “and our convenience means little to him. I’m pretty sure he went with the cheapest airline he could find.”
“Even so, this is excessive.” Morgan appears transfixed by the never-ending conveyor belt. “What could be taking so long?”
“Maybe instead of bringing your luggage into the airport, it was mistakenly moved to another plane,” Shaun offers. “Or perhaps it was put onto the wrong plane in New York—in which case, it could be anywhere in the country right now.”
“You’re not helping, Murphy,” Audrey sighs. She’s now leaning against the wall behind her and bangs her head back with an audible thud.
“I’m not trying to help. I’m telling you what might have happened.” Shaun’s tone isn’t apologetic in the least. “The most likely scenario is that there was a delay removing it from your plane because several other flights arrived around the same time as yours.”
“There are a lot of people waiting here,” Morgan agrees, in a whining tone eerily similar to the one Neil had spent the past week listening to. She sighs, checks her phone, sighs again, and then starts tapping her foot. “It’s like the employees want us to spend the night here…and to think, they didn’t even buy me dinner first.”
Audrey looks like she might collapse without the wall to hold her up, revealing that Neil isn’t the only one exhausted after their unending day. “You got somewhere better to be, Reznick?”
Morgan’s foot stops tapping for a beat before it resumes. “Obviously not, since I’m here with you.”
“About that,” Audrey begins, “not that we don’t love having you as one of our official greeters, but where’s Claire? I vaguely recall something about her offering to pick us up with Shaun.”
“She was supposed to,” Morgan confirms, “but she managed to score a date tonight.” (The fact that she stems from any further biting commentary is, quite frankly, bizarre.) “Since your flight was delayed, Claire couldn’t do both things at the same time. And seeing as I’m a generous, kind, and thoughtful individual, I happily volunteered.”
Neil coughs to cover his laughter and he’s pretty sure Morgan would have kicked him if he didn’t take a step back, conveniently placing himself out of reach. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You wanted to.”
“Prove it,” he says mildly.
“A whole week of this,” Audrey whines, in a gratingly familiar refrain, and Neil knows it’s not his imagination that her voice gets shriller the more annoyed she gets. (Really, if he shuts his eyes, he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell her and Morgan apart.) “I deserve a damned medal.”
“We already covered how noble you are for having to—as you love to say—put up with me,” Neil reminds her. “We don’t have to rehash it all again.”
Her smile is brittle. “But that might be the only thing that gets me through the next hour.”
“At this rate, I’m thinking Andrews might have been a better travel companion than you, after all.”
She ignores him in favor of waving her coffee at Shaun. “Saint. You are a saint.”
He glances at Neil, obviously unsure what Audrey’s getting at. “I am?”
Since the question’s directed at Neil, he takes it upon himself to answer. “For some reason, Audrey seems to think that I’m difficult to be around. Which is rather ironic considering her, you know…personality.”
“Difficult is a rather flattering way to describe yourself,” Audrey informs him, then turns back to Shaun. “And you not only spend most of your time with him, Murphy,” she’s making herself sound as astonished as possible, “but you seem to enjoy it.”
“Yes, tell us your secret, Shaun,” Morgan demands, never one to let an opportunity like this pass her by without piling on. “How do you spend so much time with Melendez without going crazy?”
“I…like him?” Shaun’s glancing between the two women warily, probably uncertain of how that answer will be received (and for good reason).
“He doesn’t sound too sure of himself, Neil.” Audrey’s layering on the exaggerated concern. “Maybe you’re wearing on him, after all.”
Neil watches her silently, trying to determine if she’s doing this on purpose. She’d been the one to suggest they kiss, not even a half hour ago, and now she’s (good-naturedly) harassing Shaun—right after seeing how the same treatment from Morgan earlier had spurred Shaun to defend himself and his relationship with Neil. It fits perfectly with the complaints she’d issued, back on the plane, that she didn’t think Neil or Shaun (Neil, specifically, she’d made very clear) talked about things as much as they should.
And while she certainly has more of a point than she realizes, Neil’s not a fan of her methods…if that is what she’s doing, because he’s not entirely sure. But then again, Audrey Lim has never been known for her subtlety, which means it’s probably a safe bet that everything she’s said tonight—that’s even semi-related to their relationship—has been crafted with another motive in mind.
“I like him,” Shaun’s repeating more firmly, doing exactly what Neil (and most likely Audrey) had suspected he would. He looks at Neil and reiterates, in case there was any doubt, “I like you. Very much.”
He tears his thoughts away from his suspicions about Audrey, because Shaun (and what he feels) is much more important. “I like you, too,” Neil echoes. “Very much.”
“Ah, so the secret to spending time with you is to actually like you,” Audrey tells Neil brightly. “Good to know.”
“Yeah,” Neil says wryly, “guess you’d never fit into that category.”
“Yes, she would,” Shaun counters. “She likes you and you like her. We all like each other.”
Neil flicks his eyes over to Morgan, whose attention has returned to her phone. “Don’t tell me you’re including—”
“We all like each other,” Shaun repeats, and while he’s not upset, he’s not amused, either. “We’re all friends.”
Shaun loves reiterating that point and Neil knows why: Shaun had spent too many years without a real support system of any kind. He’d had his brother, until he died, and then Aaron. There had been a few other people, fleeting presences in his life over the years, but no one truly, consistently (permanently) in his life that he could rely upon. Not until he began working at their hospital.
Now that Shaun has an entire group of people who will always be there for him, he appreciates them in a way that Neil suspects people who’ve always had that type of support will never fully understand.
“We’re not just friends,” Neil says, waiting for Shaun to look at him. “We’re a team.”
It’s really that simple, no matter how much Neil likes to joke (or complain) about his colleagues driving him insane. They have to work well together, and that’s something he’s always tried to drive home, especially with their newest residents. It doesn’t matter if they’re sitting around discussing treatment strategies or if they’re working fluidly together in an operating room. They need to have each other’s backs—and that holds true for everything from the normal, daily routines to the unexpected chaos (and heartbreak) of a crisis or tragedy.
That trust goes beyond the walls of their hospital, too. It’s about knowing, with certainty, that they’ll be there for each other if one of them needs something…even if that ‘something’ is as simple as offering a ride home from the airport.
Audrey’s nodding at his statement. “Exactly,” she agrees, easily enough that it’s clear she hadn’t had to think about it. “We’re a team.” She sends Neil a sidelong glance. “Whether we like it or not.”
Morgan’s been listening without comment, and slowly lowers her phone when she realizes that everyone’s attention is now on her. She also recognizes the unspoken question. “I…uh…yes?” She clears her throat, fiddling with her phone, and mumbles, “Of course, we’re all a…team of…friends. Or whatever.”
“I’ve never heard a more heartwarming declaration, Reznick,” Audrey says blandly, her attempt at a serious tone breaking when she smiles.
Shaun moves closer to Neil’s side, his voice quiet enough that no one else can hear it. “I told you.” There’s no gloating in it, it’s merely his reminder to Neil that this was a fact Shaun had already known.
Because he had told Neil, a long time ago. Shaun had insisted that he and Morgan were friends, no matter how much she claimed not to have any. Not to want any. Shaun had been convinced that she had the capacity (the inclination, even) to become friends with all of them if she let down her guard enough to allow it. If she stopped categorizing everyone in terms of ‘adversaries’ or ‘allies’—people to either compete against or to use for her own advantage.
So yes, Shaun had been right. (He’d seen it coming even before Morgan did.)
Neil should probably be less surprised that someone who’d needed friends for so much of his life—and so rarely gotten them—had learned to recognize that same need in others.
The thought causes him to put an arm around Shaun’s shoulders, pulling him in for a brief, sideways hug. Because never again. (If he has anything to say about it, Shaun’s never going to feel alone in the world again.)
“Claire’s lucky she missed this appalling display of sentimentality,” Morgan complains, though it’s with a grin; she’s much more confident now that she can infuse some humor back into the conversation.
“I think this is where we all start talking about how much we love each other,” Neil says thoughtfully, mostly to enjoy the younger woman’s reaction (and her eyes widening in alarm doesn’t disappoint).
Audrey’s always been too suspicious for her own good. “Neil, if you start going on about team bonding seminars and how great they are, then I’ll know for certain that Andrews has successfully brain-washed you.” She pauses in consideration. “Either that or he’s paying you off in some devious plan to sway employee opinions from the inside.”
“I wish I’d had the foresight to negotiate that kind of deal,” Neil admits. “Getting paid every time I lauded Andrews or one of his ideas…”
“But then you would have to laud him and his ideas,” Shaun points out.
“How horrifying,” Neil mutters. “Yeah, forget it. I’d never get paid.”
“Aha, I was right!” Morgan announces, waving her phone at them. “Claire’s very happy she’s missing this.”
Shaun’s phone starts vibrating, which can’t be a coincidence, and he takes it out to check the message. “Claire says that anything you tell us tonight is a lie.” Neil, reading along with him, starts laughing before Shaun repeats the next message: “Also, most other nights, as well.”
Morgan glares at her own phone, then shakes it for good measure. “You’re not allowed to out me if you’re not even here!”
“Who did Claire go out with tonight, anyways?” Audrey asks, apparently forgetting that earlier she was at least pretending not to care about their residents’ personal lives. “Anyone we know?”
“Yes,” Shaun supplies, “she is with the engineer that we met at the holiday fundraiser.”
It takes Audrey a few seconds to realize who Shaun’s referring to. “The billionaire?” she gasps, as Morgan nods, causing Audrey to whistle lowly. “Damn, go and get it, girl.”
“He’s alright,” Morgan says, dismissively.
Neil’s mostly surprised that she doesn’t appear even slightly jealous (wait…envious?) about this turn of events. “Just ‘alright’? Because I distinctly remember you spending a lot of time with him at the gala.”
“Well, I had dibs on him first,” Morgan claims, as if that’s something a person can actually have on another person, “but in the end, I generously let Claire have him.”
“Is either he or Claire aware of your…generosity?” Neil asks, as Morgan scowls at him. “Didn’t think so.”
“We had a definite connection at the gala,” she insists, “but when I realized Claire was more interested in him than I was, I graciously stepped back.”
Audrey raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Yes, it’s completely within your character to turn down a billionaire.”
“It’s not like he has that much money lying around, that’s just what he’s worth and most of it’s tied up in his holdings.” Off their looks, Morgan heaves a sigh. “I did my research—and by that, I mean I read the latest briefing Andrews gave us about our most important benefactors.”
Neil leans over to Shaun. “Is that the packet I threw away?” The flat look he receives in response confirms that it was.
Audrey hasn’t missed his aside. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Hey, in my defense, I know all our best donors and have for years,” he flashes a grateful smile at Shaun, “and I knew Murphy would fill me in on anything else I needed to know.” (He’d not only kept Neil apprised, as necessary, but for some unfathomable reason, the younger man actually enjoys doing that. Maybe because it’s ‘research’ at its heart.)
“Saint,” Audrey whispers to Shaun, quickly returning her attention to Morgan before Neil can react. “I don’t see how it matters where the guy’s money is, only that he has a lot of it. I’m having trouble understanding why you weren’t all over him.”
“I’m not that shallow!” Morgan protests, and seeing the disbelief on Audrey’s face (and Neil’s sure his own), she clarifies, “Okay, I’m not that shallow all the time.” She’s rubbing one of her arms with her other hand, a gesture Neil registers as one of nervous discomfort from her. “Look, I could tell he and Claire liked each other. I tried to help it along. That’s it.”
“I can’t be hearing this right,” Audrey smirks. “Are you saying you did something nice for other people?”
“I could still leave you at this airport,” Morgan threatens, as she checks her phone for approximately the three dozenth time, and Neil almost misses the disappointment that flashes across her face.
It’s not that hard for him to connect the dots (even if he’d admittedly had a lot of help from Shaun in this department). “I think you had another motive that you’re carefully neglecting to mention.”
“Not this again,” she groans, which is too quick of a response for such a vague accusation—and it only convinces Neil that he’s right.
They’ve torn Audrey away from her intense, ever-darkening (and somewhat alarming) glare towards the baggage carousel. “Not what again?”
Shaun gets right to the point. “Morgan and Alex are—”
“Friends,” Morgan stresses, abnormally loud, in an effort to cut off whatever Shaun had been about to say. “Remember how we all agreed, a few minutes ago, that we were friends?”
“Whatever you want to call it,” Neil says easily. “Some people aren’t into labels.”
Morgan holds up a finger in warning. “I know what you’re doing.”
He shrugs. “I’m not exactly being subtle about it.”
“Are you subtle about anything?” Audrey asks, mostly rhetorical.
“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Neil shoots back.
“This has nothing to do with me,” Morgan’s insisting, still focused on Neil. “Or Alex. It’s that you and Murphy see love everywhere. And I wonder why?”
“We do not see love everywhere,” Shaun says, calmly. “We see reality.”
Audrey rubs her eyes through her laughter, nearly tipping her coffee in the process. “Where have I been that I’ve missed this?”
“Believe me,” Morgan says, “you’ve missed nothing. My complete focus is where it should be: on my job.”
“I suppose that’s one way to spin having no personal life,” Audrey grins, holding up her drink in cheerful toast.
“Feel free to highlight that in my next review,” Morgan adds, then reconsiders. “The dedication thing, not the ‘no personal life’ thing. Which I dispute, by the way.”
Neil thinks about letting the topic go, but considering he’s still waiting for his luggage, which is nowhere to be found, he decides he’d rather use this as an entertaining way to pass the time. “Let me ask you a hypothetical question, Reznick. A thought experiment if you will. It might shed some light on your situation.”
“Oh God,” Morgan mutters, then louder, “This has to be the kind of thing Murphy enjoys.”
“Well…” Neil hedges, glancing at Shaun. She’s not wrong.
“I knew it!” she dramatically wails (because no one suffers the way Morgan suffers—except Neil. He definitely suffers the way she suffers. No, worse. He suffers worse).
“I appreciate methodical research,” Shaun’s informing Morgan, then adds, with a touch of judgement, “As should you.”
“I didn’t realize that entertaining hypothetical scenarios presented by one of our attendings counted towards ‘methodical research’,” she says, rather snippily.
Shaun glances at Neil, like he’s considering her veiled accusation that he gives Neil’s opinion more weight than is warranted. After a few moments, Shaun concludes, “It counts for me.”
Morgan just stares at him, wisely refraining from comment. After a moment, she refocuses on Neil. “How much am I going to regret this?”
He doesn’t bother telling her that if he does this right, she’ll most likely regret it a whole damn lot. “Let’s pretend it’s your day off. There are two people who want to spend time with you—”
“Only two?” She’s so disdainful that Neil’s surprised into sudden laughter. “I’m afraid your ‘experiment’ has already fallen apart at such an unrealistic scenario, Dr. Melendez.”
“Fine. We’ll pretend you’re stuck with only two options because your dozen other suitors are working that day.”
‘Suitors?’ she mouths silently. “Must you act like you’re decades older than you are?”
From the corner of his eye, he sees Shaun about to speak and gently pushes his shoulder in an effort to stave off whatever comment about his age that the younger man’s going to make. “Contain yourself, Murphy.”
“Clearly, Shaun’s not the one who needs to be contained,” Morgan says, as Shaun elbows Neil’s arm in retaliation—and maddeningly, she issues no similar rebuke to Murphy.
“Really?” Neil decides to rub his own arm for dramatic effect (though he should know better than to think he’d get any sympathy from her). “He gets a pass and I don’t?”
“You started it,” Morgan says, making a good point Neil doesn’t want to acknowledge. And Shaun’s staring at where Neil’s holding onto his arm—oh, right.
Neil quickly holds up both his hands. “I’m fine.”
Shaun’s definitely worried. “Did I—”
“No.” Neil won’t even let him finish the sentence. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“Okay,” Shaun says quietly, as Neil watches him for another few seconds to make sure he’s been believed. Once he’s satisfied, he turns back to Morgan and there’s…something about the way she’s watching them. Something that’s pressing at another memory, but she looks away before Neil can fully grasp it, and then it’s gone.
“Bet you thought you’d get out of it, right?” Neil asks her, partly to shake off the moment and partly because he really does want to ask her this question. When he only gets an annoyed sigh from her in response, he takes it as her enthusiastic invitation to start all over again. “Two suitors,” he emphasizes, biting back a smile when she presses a hand to her eyes, “want to spend time with you. For the first scenario, let’s imagine we’re living in a fantasy world where that billionaire liked you more than Claire.” He pretends not to notice her ominous expression, even though he’s greatly enjoying her reaction. “You could spend all day with him doing…what do extremely rich people do for enjoyment?”
“They spend money,” Audrey supplies, like the consummate expert on that topic she’s always been.
Neil nods, because it sounds more or less reasonable. “Right, so Reznick, you could go on an elaborate trip with him, or to an expensive restaurant, or perhaps a shopping spree…” He lets the sentence fade as he envisions it. “Forget about you, I’d date this guy.” When Shaun leans into his side in a not-so-subtle reminder, Neil grins. “You know, if I weren’t already attached.”
Any worry he might have had that Shaun had taken his joke seriously is alleviated when he feels the younger man smile against his shoulder, and he’s only a little surprised when Shaun doesn’t straighten up and pull away after, like he’d expected him to.
“The picture you’re painting isn’t half bad,” Morgan admits, because despite her insistence that she’s not shallow ‘all the time’, she’s never denied that she appreciates the finer things in life. “I do like spending money, especially when it’s not my own.”
Neil can tell Audrey’s about to voice her agreement, so he quickly continues before the two of them can get started on the joys of spending other people’s money. “Second option,” he tells Morgan, “you and Park could…” He trails off, mind going as blank as it did when he was suggesting the billionaire scenario. Time for an educated guess. “Go somewhere that you can shoot at things all day?”
“We do more than that,” she whines, but when Neil doesn’t react, her indignation falters. She glances around the baggage claim area, never settling on anything for long, and makes sure to avoid Neil’s eyes altogether. “I suppose…it’s possibly…not a far-off description.”
“It is a highly accurate description,” Shaun informs them. “Alex has told me as much.”
Morgan abandons her oh-so-casual scan of the room to refocus on Shaun. “He has?” When Shaun simply nods in response, Neil can tell it’s taking everything in her to keep from demanding more information.
“What’s the verdict?” Neil asks, hoping to save Shaun from an interrogation that’s probably less than five seconds away. “How would you rather spend your day?”
“With the billionaire,” she scoffs, “obviously.” Now her excuse to avoid his eyes is that she’s scrolling mindlessly through her phone. “I’d let him buy me all sorts of lavish things to prove how much he adores me. And I’d relish every second of it.”
“Morgan.” Neil’s quiet tone (or maybe the pointed use of her first name) causes her thumb to momentarily freeze on her phone screen before she resumes scrolling. “How would you rather spend your day?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she insists, without directly answering him—which is answer enough. “Your premise is flawed.” She shoves her phone roughly back in her pocket in a display of her frustration. “Making a choice does not reveal some kind of…long-term preference. All it tells you is what I felt like doing in that one moment.”
Audrey’s eyebrows have risen somewhere near her hairline—she’s interpreting Morgan’s careful non-answers correctly. “Wait a minute, you’d choose Alex?” She nods towards Neil and Shaun. “These two aren’t joking? I thought they—” She shakes her head and reevaluates. “I thought Neil was trying to get a reaction out of you.”
“He was,” Shaun tells Audrey, “and he did.”
Morgan’s too wrapped up in her denials to even realize Shaun’s spoken. “Maybe I just like shooting things!” Her voice is rising in pitch with every word (and she doesn’t seem to realize that she’s essentially doubling down on her admission that she’d choose Park, even if she’s going out of her way to avoid saying his name). “None of you would understand!”
“Trust me,” Audrey says sardonically, with a deliberate look around their group, “I’d understand.” She slides down the wall a little in order to stretch her legs and cross her ankles, glaring once more at the baggage carousel. “Maybe I’ll join you and Alex someday soon. Time at the range would be therapeutic for me.”
“It would not be polite to crash their dates,” Shaun informs Audrey.
Morgan’s gritting her teeth, perhaps to prevent an escalation to all-out yelling. “They’re not dates. I think I’d know if I were dating someone.”
Her last statement lands uneasily with Neil, settling somewhere in the back of his mind where he ruthlessly shoves all the things he tries not to think about (and that space is getting more crowded by the day). He spares a glance at Shaun, who’s still leaning into his side, but the other man’s attention is fully on his fellow resident’s semi-breakdown.
Audrey finishes her coffee (have they been here that long?) and tosses the empty cup into a nearby recycling bin. “Would you know if you were dating him, Reznick?”
Morgan runs both hands over her face in something a lot like dismay. “God,” she sighs, “I hope so.”
“You hope that you’re dating him?” Shaun asks, with enough humor that Neil knows he hasn’t actually misunderstood her.
Morgan damn well knows it, too. “Murphy, you have quite the ability to hear what you want to hear.” She waves a hand at Neil and Audrey for good measure. “As do the rest of you.” No one gets a chance to argue because she happens to check her phone again and immediately breaks into a wide grin. “Guess what Dr. Andrews just sent?”
Audrey blanches, too tired to hide her reaction. “Do we want to know?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” Morgan assures her and oh no, she’s turning to Neil. “It concerns you, Dr. Melendez—much to your delight, I’m sure.” She waves her phone a few inches from Neil’s face, and the proximity causes Shaun to wince and move away from them both. Her action is an eerie imitation of something Audrey does to annoy him, which is yet more proof that they’re learning from each other. (For the first time, he wonders if he’d made the right choice in encouraging her to join Lim’s team.) “It’s the official itinerary for the conference in Las Vegas next month.” She pulls her phone out of reach right before Neil can threaten to break it.
Right on cue, Neil feels his phone vibrate and stubbornly refuses to check it. (The itinerary will be there for him to ignore for days. Or weeks. Or, more accurately, until Shaun finally opens the email and reads it to him, interspersed with disapproving statements about Neil putting it off for so long.)
“I did not know that you were going to Las Vegas,” Shaun tells Neil, voice subdued in a way that broadcasts his unhappiness. Shaun had only known there was a possibility, because Neil had told him months ago that Andrews was debating whether to send him or Audrey—and like Neil, Shaun had been hoping he’d choose Audrey.
“I only found out today,” Neil sighs, feeling the return of his tension from earlier, which had miraculously gone away while he’d been distracted by the others. “He told me a couple hours ago, because what better time for him to ambush me than on my way home from the last conference I didn’t want to attend? He probably knew I’d be too tired to put up a real fight.” He’s hit with a wave of weariness, but pushes it back and manages a smile for Shaun. “On the bright side, anything will be better than the week I spent trapped in New York with Audrey Lim.”
Audrey mutters something about ‘revisionist history’ but it’s Morgan’s gleeful, “Aren’t you glad that your next trip is with me?” that catches his attention.
Sometimes Neil thinks that maybe he’s being overly-dramatic whenever he insists that the universe (or at least Marcus) is out to get him.
This is not one of those times.
He’d known Morgan was being considered, but as of a few hours ago, Andrews still hadn’t been sure which residents he wanted to send; it’s not surprising that he’d neglected to tell Neil this information, probably hoping to avoid yet another argument tonight. (The best thing about officially being on separate teams is that he and Morgan get a lot of time away from each other, when it’s needed—they simply clash too much when she’s around all the time. Three straight days of her with no real escape will be a lot to take, especially given how much she enjoys making life difficult for him simply as a matter of course. The mere thought of it is exhausting, especially in his current state.)
The two women begin discussing details of the conference and Neil’s not sure which one of them he resents more: Morgan for being thrilled about going on the trip or Audrey for not having drawn the short straw of being sent.
Shaun’s even more displeased with Morgan’s reveal than Neil is, if that’s possible. “You’re attending the Las Vegas conference, as well?” he asks her.
She nods, barely able to contain her excitement. “I asked Dr. Andrews months ago if I could attend, but he didn’t make a final decision until just now.” She doesn’t seem to be gloating (too much) but rather genuinely happy that she’s been chosen. Neil supposes he can’t really blame her, since it’s a mark of Andrews’ confidence in her that he’d allow her to be one of the representatives for their hospital.
“You just got home,” Shaun reminds Neil, words so clipped that the tone is almost painful. “Dr. Andrews should not make you take another trip so soon after the last one, especially when you did not want to go to New York in the first place.”
Something in Neil twists painfully, because Shaun’s definitely upset now and he’s doing nothing to hide it; he probably couldn’t even if he tried. It’s evident in his troubled expression and the rigidness that’s taken him over.
Yet again, Neil’s struck by that recurring, vivid flashback to their holiday gala, when a similar reaction from Shaun had caused Neil to kiss him in order to make him forget what was bothering him. The idea is no less insane today than it was a few months ago and Neil’s aware that the only thing he should feel is thankful that things had worked out as well as they had. There were far more ways that kissing Shaun might have gone wrong than right. It could have easily upset the balance between them or altered their friendship with each other. It could have changed—or ruined—everything.
There are a lot of roads Neil’s never supposed to go down and this one’s at the very top of his list. Shaun does not want a romantic relationship with anyone. Neil learned a long time ago that it’s pointless to imagine going somewhere when the destination is an impossibility.
Besides that, Neil’s main concern right now isn’t for himself, it’s for Shaun.
“I’ll admit that I’m not thrilled about going to Las Vegas, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Neil’s trying very hard not to think about what three days with Morgan Reznick might do to his mental state. “As you’ve pointed out, we all have to do things we don’t want to do. It’ll be over before we know it.”
His attempt at reassurance isn’t doing anything except possibly making things worse. “I do not want you to go,” Shaun says, words barely audible even though Neil’s a mere three feet away from him.
“I thought that…” Neil trails off, overcome with a sinking feeling. Had he somehow misinterpreted things completely? He has no idea how he might have managed that, but if anyone could miss something entirely, it’d be him. “I thought you’d be happy.”
Shaun’s verging on angry now. “Why would I be happy?”
Neil quickly regroups, refusing to believe he could be so wrong about something, despite his initial misgivings. There has to be something else going on to explain Shaun’s reaction. He doesn’t think twice about reaching out to set a hand on his shoulder, which is something he wouldn’t have done even a few months ago—not when Shaun was so clearly upset. He’d always known the best course of action was to give Shaun space, either to work through his emotions or to calm down and recompose himself.
Now, though, Neil knows that he’s allowed to do this. He knows it helps—not only has he seen it, but Shaun’s told him as much. He’ll actively avoid everyone else, but Neil is the person he’ll seek out if he wants reassurance, and sure enough, Shaun doesn’t shrug him off or step away, he just leans into Neil’s hand.
“I thought you’d be happy we were going together,” Neil tells him, letting his confusion show, because he thinks it’s another thing that might help.
Shaun’s frown lightens a little. “We…are going together?”
There’s his answer. “We are. I’m guessing Andrews didn’t tell you?” When Shaun says nothing, Neil grips his shoulder more firmly. “Of course he didn’t. The man can’t keep anything to himself to save his life and this he doesn’t tell you. He wanted at least three people to attend, and he says we work better with each other than anyone else, but…” He’s not sure if Shaun’s entirely aware of what he’s getting at, so he’s not sure how to phrase it.
As it turns out, he doesn’t have to try because Shaun fills in, “That is his excuse, not his reason.”
Neil slowly nods. “He claims his life is a lot harder when we’re apart.”
“He has said that on multiple occasions,” Shaun says. He’s obviously pleased at this turn of events, his anger completely gone, but there’s also a sense of satisfaction to his words that Neil doesn’t understand. “The first time was six months ago.”
Neil doesn’t recall the exchange Shaun seems to be referring to, but as he flips through memories of past conversations with his resident and his boss (and sometimes all three of them together), he finds himself staring down a conclusion that he hadn’t considered before, but which now seems highly likely.
“Shaun…” Neil steals a glance at Morgan and Audrey—who have been listening without making any attempt to hide it—and tries to determine if either of them is as suspicious as him, but neither seems to have any clue what he’s thinking. “…have you been making sure that Andrews’ life is difficult when we’re apart?”
“He is very predictable,” Shaun says. Like that’s an answer. Because it is.
Neil’s heard Shaun make similar comments about their friends, other colleagues, and even their patients. He’s become skilled at applying typical behavioral patterns to everyone he meets, because of how effectively that strategy has helped him navigate social interactions. In fact, Neil would wager Shaun’s learned to make predictions better than most, because he observes and files away every piece of information, no matter how minor. He remembers things that Neil and others easily forget—things they’d disregarded as unimportant, but which Shaun had remembered as a key to possible future actions and decisions.
In this instance, he’d observed their boss’s reactions to various things and then acted accordingly to influence the outcome he wanted. Which was…
“Wait,” Morgan’s starting to get it, “you purposely made Andrews miserable so he wouldn’t separate you two anymore?”
“Not miserable,” Shaun objects. “Frustrated.”
“Sure, that makes it better,” Morgan says, a newfound appreciation of his methods flickering in her eyes.
“Dr. Andrews has not separated us only for business trips,” Shaun reminds them, now sounding rather frustrated himself. “He has done it with patients. He has done it at social events. He has done it with everything.” Shaun’s becoming more resentful with every grievance he lists. “I don’t like it. I have never liked it.” The last statement is said with a specific kind of vehemence that gets Neil’s attention.
“You didn’t like it even before…” He’s never sure how to talk about this, especially in front of other people. “…we got together.”
“No, I didn’t,” Shaun says, lowering his voice. “I never did.”
They’ve talked about this very issue, many times, and with Andrews, too—most notably at their holiday gala. Their boss’s tendency to split them up based on his whims has become a common occurrence, intended to double their effectiveness. Neil and Shaun have their own specialties, their own methods of charm that work on different people, and Marcus had hated to ‘waste’ their talents in the same place at the same time. It’s only been recently—as in the past couple months—that he’d slowly stopped doing it and that was only because of their reluctance (and then outright refusal) to always be forced apart.
Before this past week, Neil hadn’t made any connection between Andrews’ behavior and the most recent trip to New York, because traveling for work is such a minor part of his job. Most of his time is spent on patient care, with a smaller (but no less necessary) portion allotted to the various requests Andrews makes of him—everything from business luncheons to fundraising events to devoting individual time to VIPs. Those are all areas of the job where Neil has routinely demanded a measure of control, going back to his earliest years at the hospital. As such, it had never been too difficult for him to push back when Andrews was being unreasonable or when his own life interfered with the requests.
Business trips, however, have always been in their own separate category, and the arrangements are usually out of Neil’s hands. He has some say about the events he’d rather attend or skip, but for the most part, the final decisions are made by other people, whether that’s Andrews or Glassman or even the board making the request (which means it’s never really a ‘request’). Neil’s been asked to attend events to assist colleagues; to try and recruit talent the board’s been courting; to brush up on specific trainings; or even just to represent their hospital at some of the more prestigious conferences and nationwide events.
It’s much harder to come up with grounds for refusing a trip than it is to refuse other things, and Shaun’s aware of that, because they’d discussed it at length as the New York conference approached. Neil had been reluctant to go, but he’d thought that in the end, it’d be like most other trips. Annoying at times, but overall an interesting and (usually) enjoyable experience.
Neil had never anticipated the toll that being away would take on him this time around. Sure, he can blame some of that on getting older: being more set in his ways, wanting to be nearer to home, and being reluctant to leave his patients, but none of those things are insurmountable. He knows his patients are being left in good hands, and he usually settles into trips with relative ease.
The only thing that’s truly changed now, compared to the past, is Shaun’s place in his life. Neil’s never had a relationship like this before: he and Shaun need each other—even though it’s in different ways—and their presence in each other’s lives has become necessary to both of them. It wasn’t until Neil left that he realized how much things had changed. And while a distant part of his mind had noted that it seemed odd that Andrews had been the one to suggest he travel with Shaun from now on, he’d brushed that feeling aside, because the answer was right in front of him: Andrews didn’t enjoy it when they were separated any more than he or Shaun did. (It’s never been a secret that their boss does everything he can to make his life easier—he openly says as much, out loud, to anyone who will listen.)
Now, though, Neil can see the final detail that he’s been missing—the final piece that completes the puzzle: Andrews hating it when they were apart was no accident. Shaun had been ensuring that was the case.
(Neil’s starting to wonder if the past week had actually been a lot easier for him than for Shaun.)
“I did not intentionally set out to change Dr. Andrews’ behavior,” Shaun’s trying to explain, as he turns to Neil. “When you are not here, and neither is Dr. Lim, he is the next logical person with whom to consult. He is the next in line with authority above you.” His words are carefully diplomatic, the reasoning so flawless that even Neil can’t find fault with it (and he tries—he tries because he knows other people might try).
“So no one can ever accuse you of harassing him on purpose, to achieve your own ends,” Morgan murmurs, thoughts following along with Neil’s. “That’s very calculated.” She’s as impressed as Neil’s ever seen her, giving Shaun a deliberate once-over. “I think we need to become better friends, Murphy.”
“Hold up,” Neil warns, “don’t go getting any ideas.” He points from one to the other. “Either of you.” He has a sudden vision of coming home from work only to find Morgan and Shaun plotting—God knows what—from his living room couch. (Why doesn’t that thought terrify him the way it should?)
“You said you didn’t set out to sway Marcus,” Audrey reminds Shaun. “That implies you eventually did it on purpose.”
Shaun tellingly doesn’t respond to her accusation. “Dr. Andrews claims that Neil and I are much more demanding when we’re separated. In one instance, he said that his life would be easier if we always worked together.” He slides his gaze briefly over Neil, but it feels like there’s something reluctant in it. “I liked that idea.”
“You decided to visit him a lot more often until he made it a reality,” Audrey finishes.
Again, Shaun doesn’t reply to her, squaring his shoulders as he turns to face Neil. “I should have…talked to you.” He’s become more hesitant, and that along with his unusual behavior alerts Neil to a potential problem.
“About harassing Andrews?” Neil keeps his voice neutral. “You can’t think I would have objected to that?”
“No,” Shaun says, “I did not think you would.”
Shaun’s answer does nothing to reveal what’s bothering him. “This isn’t a one-time thing,” Neil assures him, wondering if Shaun’s worried they might have to repeat this whole process the next time Andrews comes up with some brilliant plan to separate them. “He told me we’ll always have the option to travel together from now on. If we want to.”
That doesn’t seem to make anything better, Shaun’s frown deepening as he rubs his forehead. “Are you…happy about that?”
None of this is the reaction that Neil had been expecting. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Shaun’s given up on looking at him, which is the worst sign so far. “I hoped he would allow you to stop going on trips that you did not want to take. I did not intend for him to say that we should travel together.” He’s wringing his hands now. “You are aware that I do not enjoy traveling very much. I would not want you to spend an entire trip…concerned about me.” He takes a deep breath, then repeats, “I should have talked to you.”
Neil wants to laugh at the irony of Shaun worrying about something that’s already happening, but he doesn’t let himself, because the younger man would definitely take it the wrong way. “How, exactly, do you think I’ve felt for the past week?” Though he tries to downplay it, there’s a definite edge to Neil’s words that he can’t completely erase.
It makes things even worse, Shaun’s shoulders falling at that question. “I am fine without—” you. He doesn’t say it, but Neil hears it all the same, because it’s a sentiment Shaun has expressed about a lot of people over the past two years. Even when he accepts assistance with certain things, Shaun’s always been adamant about remaining fiercely independent…except when it comes to Neil.
Neil’s been the main exception to Shaun’s rule for months now—he’s the only person Shaun accepts help from without searching for justification. He’s the only person Shaun’s allowed himself to need without making excuses for his own feelings (which too often includes viewing that need as some sort of failing, a view that had been drilled into him by people whom Neil hopes never to meet). Even when Shaun receives help from Aaron, he typically makes his terms clear in a way that Neil himself rarely hears anymore.
Maybe that’s why Shaun hadn’t been able to finish his sentence. (Maybe it used to be true, but it’s not anymore.)
When it becomes clear that Shaun isn’t going to speak any further on that subject, Neil steers the conversation back to the point he’d been trying to make. “Are we not allowed to worry about each other?”
Shaun ignores the question. “I do not want to make things more difficult for you,” he repeats, with an uneasy glance at Morgan and Audrey, who at least have the sense to make it seem like they’re not paying attention to them anymore. “That is not the point of…this.”
“You don’t make things more difficult,” Neil promises, deciding to turn things around on Shaun, since that’s one of the best ways he’s found to get his resident to see his point of view. “Do you ever worry about me?”
“Yes,” Shaun answers, somewhat morosely. “It is easy to imagine worst case scenarios, even though they are statistically improbable.”
“If I ordered you to stop—to never worry about me, or anyone else you cared about, ever again—would you be able to?”
Shaun slowly shakes his head. “No. I do not think I worry too much, but it is…difficult to eliminate those kinds of thoughts.”
Neil lets him ruminate on his own words for a few moments before reminding him, “That’s how I feel, too. I think this week was difficult because our lives have become a lot more intertwined than either of us realized, until…” He rubs the back of his neck, but it’s not helping the tension this time. “Until we couldn’t see each other, even if we wanted to.” Even if they needed to.
Something he said has bothered Shaun even more, his resident cautiously asking, “Do you think we should…separate our lives more than we do?”
Neil definitely isn’t prepared for the ice water flooding his veins. Shaun has somehow come up with the worst possible solution—he might as well be asking if they should ‘break up’ and that’s something Neil’s been dreading for a long time. Despite that, he forces himself not to react in the viscerally negative way that he instinctively wants to, because if Shaun’s suggesting it, Neil’s at least going to entertain it. “What—” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, and tries again. “What do you mean?”
Shaun’s watching the luggage carousel (on which Neil’s suitcase still hasn’t appeared). “You said our lives have become more intertwined than we realized and that’s why it’s difficult to be apart.”
Neil looks over at Morgan and Audrey again, who’ve begun discussing a patient admitted the prior week. Once he’s satisfied they’re actually preoccupied and not listening to him, he turns back to Shaun. “I’m not following your logic.”
“If we spent less time with each other,” Shaun says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “then some things might be…easier. Like this past week when you were away.”
Neil’s even more confused than he was fifteen seconds ago. “Didn’t we talk about this already tonight? We agreed that we don’t see too much of each other.” He’s really trying to get some humor back into this conversation because he’s not sure how he’s going to get through it otherwise. “You were there for that conversation, Murphy. And if it wasn’t you, it was someone who looked a lot like you.”
Shaun doesn’t smile (he doesn’t even come close). “We agreed that we enjoy each other’s company, but you can feel that way while also believing that time apart would be beneficial.” His argument makes sense, in a terrible way, and it might be one of the worst things Neil’s ever heard.
Still, he makes sure not to show any of his emotions when he asks, “Is that what you want?”
His question doesn’t help anything because Shaun’s agitated now. “No,” he says forcefully. “It isn’t.”
“Okay.” Neil has no idea what to do. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Shaun doesn’t deny he’s upset, which informs Neil that he’s really upset. “I am the one who asked you if it would be better,” Shaun bites out, still not looking at Neil. “You have not answered me.”
That’s when Neil realizes that Shaun’s question had nothing to do with his own feelings—it had been entirely about Neil. He’d been looking for reassurance, and Neil not only hadn’t given it, he’d avoided the question entirely.
“Spending time apart would not make things easier for me,” Neil tells him, making sure to put emphasis on every word. He’s stuck replaying the loop he always gets trapped in: everything they’d have to change if they ended their relationship and how much Neil doesn’t want any part of that.
Shaun’s quiet for an awful fifteen seconds before he looks back at Neil and asks, “It wouldn’t?”
“No. Do you know the only thing that made this past week better?” He’s not waiting for an answer this time. “You.”
“Me,” Shaun says cautiously, like he can’t really believe it.
“You,” Neil repeats. “Talking to you. So no, I don’t see any world where us intentionally spending time apart is going to help anything. And even if it did?” He already knows the answer, but still takes a moment to think about it—to reaffirm, in his own mind, the way he’s felt for a long time. “I still wouldn’t want it.”
He doesn’t think he’ll ever want it. And what is he going to do about that?
The change in Shaun is obvious, his expression becoming lighter and more relaxed. “I feel the same way.”
“Good,” Neil says, as he suddenly (and rather disconcertingly) hears Audrey’s voice in his head: all the things she’d told him on the plane. All the things he hadn’t wanted to hear. The most troubling of which is that she suspected Shaun wasn’t aware of how much Neil cared about him. Neil had strongly denied that, refusing to accept it as a possibility…but maybe there’s a truth to it that Audrey, as an outsider, has been able to see. Especially if, as tonight had proven, Shaun’s been worried that Neil might object to them traveling together (or that Neil might think they spent too much time with each other, to begin with).
Shaun raises his chin towards the carousel and Neil can’t believe it when he turns around to find that his suitcase has miraculously appeared. He goes to retrieve it, wondering the whole time why he can’t stop replaying his conversation with Shaun in his mind. Something’s nagging at him, but he’s not sure what.
When he returns (to Audrey’s complaints about how monumentally unfair it is that Neil’s suitcase had appeared first) Shaun is reading something on his phone.
“Dr. Andrews sent me a message informing me that he would like me to attend the Las Vegas conference,” Shaun tells him, “complete with the itinerary.”
Neil can’t contain his sigh. “Right on time, I see.”
He leaves it at that, since complaining further won’t help anything, and does a cursory check of his suitcase. Maybe he can get away with not unpacking most of it before his next trip? Though Shaun would certainly have some objection to that… Which is when he realizes what’s bothering him: Shaun had never actually said if he wanted to go to Las Vegas. He’d reminded Neil that he didn’t like traveling (which Neil already knew) and he’d been worried about whether Neil wanted him on the trip to begin with, but neither of those things reveals whether Shaun wants to go. He might very well not, since his original intention was never to get the option of going with Neil, but only incentivizing their boss to let Neil decline.
“Shaun,” he begins, breaking the other man’s attention away from Audrey’s renewed rant, “do you want to attend the conference next month or would you rather stay home?”
Shaun seems surprised at the question, which does nothing to reassure Neil. “If Dr. Andrews wants me to go, I will go. In the past, I have usually done whatever he’s asked of me.”
“I didn’t ask what Dr. Andrews wanted. I asked what you wanted.” He can see Shaun’s uncertainty. “Don’t tell me that you want whatever Andrews wants.” Though it’s far more likely he’d base his answer on… “Or whatever you think I want.”
“Then I don’t know how to answer your question,” Shaun admits.
“I know you like to keep Andrews happy, but trips like this aren’t mandatory for residents, even if he wants you to go.” (Considering Shaun hadn’t known about it until Neil told him, it wasn’t like he had time to think over what he’d prefer, either.)
“I know that attending the conference is not mandatory,” Shaun says agreeably, which makes Neil wonder if he’s not getting an answer for a reason. Shaun has a unique way of picking and choosing which parts of a conversation to acknowledge or ignore; sometimes it’s accidental, but quite often he does it on purpose if there’s something he either can’t or doesn’t want to acknowledge. (He does it with Neil less than with others, but it still happens, so Neil has learned to be on the lookout for it.)
“Tell me if you don’t want to go,” he tries again, deciding it can’t hurt to repeat his point. “Andrews wouldn’t force you to travel if you told him you’d rather stay home.”
Over the past year, when Andrews began asking more of Shaun—outside of the hospital—the younger man had responded by working to overcome his dislike of traveling, similar to how he’s always working to strengthen his interpersonal skills and get through his discomfort at social gatherings. Shaun’s traveled for their hospital three times now: two overnight trips and one long weekend—the first two with Neil and the last with just him and Andrews (God help them—that had been a fun report to hear back). All of those trips were before Neil and Shaun began misleading people about their relationship.
Shaun had gone on each trip with minimal complaint, but a troubling idea is crossing Neil’s mind: maybe Shaun hadn’t really been working through his anxiety as well as Neil thought. Maybe Shaun always wanted to stay home, but never said as much because he thought he had to keep everyone happy—to the neglect of his own wishes.
“Allow me to interrupt?” Morgan asks, though it’s not a real question, because they have no choice (and Neil hadn’t even been aware that she’d started listening to them again). “I’d like to suggest a…what’d you call it? A thought experiment?” She stares meaningfully at Neil. “Because I think someone is missing the point.”
Neil feigns mild shock. “You can’t be referring to me.”
“It’s nothing new for Neil to miss things,” Audrey chimes in, leveling him with a pointed stare of her own. She’s clearly referring to their conversation on the plane and Neil barely stops his retort because it’d give too much away.
“Great,” he sighs, instead, “we’re all part of this conversation now.”
“Only because of how badly you need us,” Morgan says archly.
“Complimenting yourself while also condescending to me.” Neil’s impressed, despite himself. “Well done, Reznick.”
“I’m gifted that way,” she says, with a pleased smile. “Now, Murphy, forget about all other factors and consider only the scenarios that I’m presenting. Which would you prefer: staying home, where you’re comfortable, without Dr. Melendez? Or going to Las Vegas, where you’ll be uncomfortable, with Dr. Melendez?”
Shaun chooses not to answer her directly and looks at Neil. “I would always rather be where you are.” It sounds like he can’t believe they wouldn’t know something so obvious. Which means that any discomfort he feels about traveling, or the social aspect of conferences in general, is overshadowed by the fact that he’d rather spend time with Neil than be apart from him.
Neil feels a dizzying kind of warmth at that revelation, since he knows exactly what Shaun means. And it’s…
The wrong road, he reminds himself. That is the wrong road.
“You’re welcome,” Morgan’s telling them smugly, her self-congratulatory tone matching perhaps only Marcus Andrews for its level of sheer arrogance. “Coincidentally, ‘you’re welcome’ is also what I would have said to anyone who thanked me for sacrificing my free evening to come get you at the airport. Which, as a reminder, no one did.”
“As if you aren’t here strictly to gain points in your favor,” Audrey almost laughs. “We all know if you had a better option tonight, you’d have taken it.”
“Untrue, Dr. Lim,” Morgan insists, pausing a moment to smile down at her phone. She doesn’t even look up when she adds, “Greeting you was always my top priority.”
Audrey has noticed Morgan’s divided attention, and the younger woman gives up on the conversation altogether when she starts typing a message. “What’s so important?” Audrey leans over, unashamedly trying to see the screen. “Who might that be?”
“What?” Morgan looks up, then twists away from Audrey upon realizing what she’s trying to do. “No one!”
“Alex’s shift ended eight minutes ago,” Shaun helpfully informs everyone, then reminds Morgan, “Before we left the hospital, he told you he’d talk to you later.”
She’s looking around rather shiftily, if Neil says so himself. “I…don’t recall that.”
“You told him that he better talk to you later.”
“Must you remember everything?” she hisses, giving up all pretense of not knowing what he’s talking about. “My God, you even emphasized the same word that I did! I don’t know whether to be frightened or impressed.”
Shaun ignores that last part. “If you have a conversation in front of me, then yes, I will remember it.”
She’s growing increasingly defensive. “It’s hardly earth-shattering that friends want to talk to each other. That’s the whole point of having friends!”
“It is?” Audrey’s mumbling to herself. “I might need new friends.”
“Hey, that’s my line,” Neil protests.
“Not everyone has to fall in love with their best friend,” Morgan insists, with a tinge of desperation, and Neil doesn’t know who she’s trying to convince—them or herself. “I’m not you, Murphy.”
Shaun’s studying her in the way Neil finds incredibly familiar. The moment stretches too long until Shaun says, with devastating finality, “No one said anything about falling in love.”
Morgan freezes, her grip on her phone tightening to the point that her knuckles start turning white.
Audrey looks thoughtfully between the residents. “He’s right,” she says bluntly, because sometimes she doesn’t know when to quit (or maybe doesn’t want to). “Why’d your mind go there, Reznick?”
“Because of—because of these two,” she says, stumbling over her explanation as she waves both hands in Neil and Shaun’s general direction. When Audrey stares at her, clearly not buying it, Morgan issues some kind of frustrated growl. She turns on her heel and stalks a few feet away before whirling back around. “This is me ignoring you, Dr. Lim.” She narrows her eyes at Shaun for good measure. “Both of you.”
Shaun’s looking at her like she might be losing her mind. “Then why are you talking to us?”
Morgan briefly shuts her eyes, maybe to pray for some kind of patience. (Welcome to the club, Reznick.) “I’m never doing another favor for Claire again,” she sighs, as she returns to typing on her phone (probably sending that very warning to Claire). “I knew I was being too nice.”
“Right, I’m always saying that’s your biggest character flaw,” Neil laughs, taking pity on her when she can’t seem to muster any sort of comeback. “Fine, we’ll stop,” he relents, directing a look at Audrey to inform her she’s included in his promise, and notes how quickly Morgan’s annoyance fades. That, more than anything, tells him that whatever she feels, it’s serious, and—no. No. He doesn’t need to be involved in their lives. Not any more than he already is.
He’s always cared, sure. Abstractly. Distantly. Professionally, in terms of how they work together as a team, and yes even as friends the way he’d admitted earlier, but there’s always been a requisite amount of space between him and the residents. Or at least…there used to be.
When had it turned into this?
“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Audrey murmurs to him, apparently able to read the thoughts on his face. “I tried to stop caring, too. It didn’t work.” She nods at Shaun, who’s listening intently while Morgan relates a message from Claire. “At least you have an excuse, being in love and all. What’s mine?”
“Have you grown a heart?” he tries to joke, only half-interested in what she’s saying because he’s too caught up in his thoughts about the residents. He wants to know how Park really feels about Morgan and he wants to know how Claire’s date is going and there are some other residents of Lim’s whose names he mixes up a lot, but now he’s thinking he probably cares about them, too, and doesn’t even know it.
(If he gets the sudden urge to call up Kalu and ask him how things are going at Denver Memorial, he’s going to have to commit himself.)
Audrey’s smiling at him knowingly. “I’ve grown a heart? That’s rich, coming from you.”
Neil needs to change the subject. Yesterday. “Reznick,” he says, as she and Shaun both look over at him, “I suppose you’re right that you deserve thanks for coming to get us.”
“I’m right?” She’s waiting for the catch.
“That is what he said,” Shaun confirms.
“Yeah,” she eyes Neil suspiciously, “but did he mean it?”
“Yes,” Shaun answers before Neil can, “he meant it.”
Neil smiles, because Shaun knows him better than anyone (even if other people don’t realize that, yet). “I meant it,” Neil repeats, amused when Morgan blinks in surprise at the sincerity of his words. “We’re all very grateful you took Claire’s place.” Now he returns to joking. “Your mocking comments and biting commentary have made this homecoming worthwhile.”
There’s an edge of laughter to her words when she says, “I do what I can.”
“…To slowly drive me insane?”
She shrugs innocently, the gesture completely foreign on her, then smiles at her phone again. “It’s apparently one of the things I do best.” He doesn’t think that last statement is meant for him, and any other time he would have called her on it, but not right now. Not after he’d promised to stop.
Neil’s starting to think that he and Morgan Reznick have a lot more in common than he’d ever thought possible (which might be one of the most horrifying realizations of his life).
Audrey startles them—and everyone else within a fifty foot radius—when she cheers after finally spotting her luggage on the carousel, and she follows it up by announcing that she still might sue the airline for ‘intentional infliction of emotional distress’. (Rather gallingly, she also threatens to name Neil as a co-defendant in the suit.)
Morgan relentlessly badgers them to ‘hurry the hell up’ as they head for the exit (which seems about three miles away) because she’s insisting she can still salvage some of her evening if she’s able to get them home quickly. Audrey’s clearly dying to grill her on what she’s doing later, but she shows restraint (for once in her life) and turns the conversation back around to their Las Vegas trip, which Morgan is all too happy to chatter on about. She can’t contain how happy she is about going and Audrey’s equally overjoyed at the fact that she doesn’t have to join her.
“You don’t know what you’ll be missing,” Morgan jokes to her attending. “Just think, three whole days of me!”
Neil misses Audrey’s reply because his burgeoning good mood starts to fade at the reminder of traveling again when he hasn’t even made it out of the airport from his last trip. (Seriously, where is the exit? Is endlessly walking around an airport one of the last circles of hell?)
All he can picture is three straight days in Las Vegas, every minute scheduled with events and lectures, meetings and panels, and the socializing that never ends —
“And me,” Shaun says, so quietly that Morgan and Audrey don’t even hear him. Neil blinks at him, wondering if he’d mistakenly been saying his thoughts out loud—but no, Shaun’s responding to what Morgan just said. He’s also moved closer, his warmth a comforting presence at Neil’s side, and it overshadows…everything.
Neil leans over to whisper, “And you,” near Shaun’s ear.
When he catches the brilliant smile that crosses Shaun’s face, he knows that no matter what happens in Las Vegas—no matter what happens anywhere—as long as they’re together, they’re going to be just fine.
Chapter 12
Notes:
So I blame this chapter (and the following one) on the people who asked me what Shaun was doing while Neil was in New York. Once I began thinking about it, I couldn't stop, so these next two chapters should mostly answer that question. (Part 2 of this scene is almost done, so it should be up within a couple weeks.)
I truly appreciate everyone still here with me, even as my updates across stories have slowed. I am still committed to my ongoing stories and your encouragement really keeps me going. Thank you all! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Really, Murphy, it sounds like your week was perfectly fine without me.”
“It was not.” There’s more than a hint of annoyance in Shaun’s voice and Neil figures he probably should have quit a round or two ago…but in his defense, he’d been enjoying this argument (this game) too much to stop.
For most of the ride home from the airport, Morgan and Shaun had told him and Audrey about everything that happened during the last couple days they’d been at the conference. Oh sure, they’d already heard the major things, like issues with patients, but the little things? Like Claire’e excitement about her date tonight? And Park barely beating out Morgan to win some marksmanship competition at their regular range? Or Andrews lamenting everything about his life (which has to do with Neil a disproportionate amount of the time, despite him not even being in the same state for the past week)? No, they hadn’t heard any of that, but their residents were more than happy to fill them in, down to every last minor detail.
(Maybe Neil’s getting more sentimental the older he gets, but what he hears in every story is how much he and Audrey were missed.)
And Neil, in that contradictory manner he finds much more enjoyable than he should, had commented after each story or anecdote that it sounded like everything had gone fine without him or Audrey (because it mostly had). He made sure to remark upon how much their residents seemed to enjoy the week despite his and Audrey’s absence, even throwing in a line or two about how nice it must have been to get a break from their bosses hovering around constantly. (Sure, the trade-off is having Andrews hovering around constantly, but he’s easy enough to avoid if that’s the goal—though based upon Shaun’s admission that he’d been ensuring Andrews hated Neil and Shaun’s separation as much as they did, avoiding him had obviously not been Shaun’s goal.)
Every time Neil had made some subtle insinuation (or, in a few cases, overly dramatic accusations) about how great things had gone without them, either Morgan or Shaun had denied it—and in Shaun’s case, even though he’d become a little more forceful each time, he’d still been playing along; Neil could tell without even consciously thinking about it.
Shaun’s most recent protest is the first time he’s sounded in any way upset about Neil’s teasing, and that’s all it takes for Neil to drop his act (because if it’s not fun for Shaun anymore, then it’s not fun for him, either).
“Okay,” Neil relents, as they enter his apartment and he turns back to face Shaun, who’s locking the deadbolts behind them. Neil shoves his suitcase against the wall and drops his carry-on bag, uncaring, by his feet. He distantly wonders how long Shaun will refrain from commenting on that. (He guesses it’ll be no more than ten minutes.) “Your week wasn’t perfectly fine. Even though in almost every story you told, you sounded like you were having a good time with all your…” He trails off when he remembers that never sounds right anymore. “All our friends.”
Something in the softening of Shaun’s expression tells him the younger man hasn’t missed his change in word choice, and it makes Neil want to always do that. Win his approval. (Or just make him happy, really.)
“I can enjoy being with our—” Shaun pauses a half-second too long, “—friends and miss you at the same time.” Neil understands that sentiment all too well, but before he can agree, his resident explains, “Everything would have been better if you were here.”
Neil swallows and runs a hand through his hair, sparing little thought to how disheveled it probably makes him look (he must truly be exhausted—he’ll blame Audrey for that). He knows Shaun missed him, just as much as he’d missed Shaun, but joking about it makes it…easier, somehow. Like it wasn’t really that serious, no matter how miserable either of them had been at the time. (How much should friends miss each other, anyways? Is there such a thing as ‘too much’? It doesn’t seem like there should be, but sometimes he wonders…)
Neil can’t dismiss their feelings that easily, either—maybe if it was just him, he might be able to file everything away under some ambiguous category like ‘missing home’, but Shaun has made it very clear that he’d hated it when they were apart. After all, he’d made Andrews’ life as difficult as possible with the express goal of getting their boss to conclude that Neil and Shaun should be kept together at all times for the foreseeable future.
So yes, the way they feel about each other is important, no matter how many jokes Neil makes to feel more at ease, and now all he wants to do is hug Shaun. But they’ve probably already hugged enough for one evening, right? Or maybe for a whole week. Or a month. (How often should friends hug? Is there such a thing as ‘enough’ or ‘too much’? Have they crossed that line already, and does Neil even care if they have?)
Neil shakes himself out of the sense of déjà vu, refocusing on what Shaun said. His resident wants him here, because it’s an undeniable fact that things are better when they’re with each other. (By now, Neil doesn’t think that’s ever going to change, nor does he want it to.)
“I know what you mean,” he says, a tad too late for Shaun not to notice his unusually long pause in replying. He tries not to think about how deeply he’d wished Shaun was at the conference with him—he’d texted Shaun through nearly every lecture and panel, and when Shaun had been too busy to reply, Neil had imagined his side of the conversation…just to get through it. “In fact, I think I know exactly how you feel.”
Shaun seems uncertain. “Is this going to be another conversation where we argue about which one of us missed the other more?”
Neil laughs, easing some of the tension that was probably only in his own mind. “No, Shaun, I think we’ve more than covered that topic for tonight.” He tosses his keys behind him without needing to look, aiming for the side table along the wall, and they promptly hit the floor.
Shaun instantly looks disapproving and Neil tries not to roll his eyes. “What? Did you really expect me to turn around before doing that? Seems like unnecessary effort.”
“More effort than picking your keys up off the floor?” Shaun asks, too smartly, as Neil goes to retrieve his keys.
And then he stands for a moment where his table used to be.
“Shaun, I think someone stole my table.”
“No one stole your table.”
Neil waves his arms around him, just to prove that it hasn’t, in fact, turned invisible. “It’s gone, Murphy. I thought I told you to check in on my place, yet you let someone waltz in off the street and steal my table.”
“Of any possible scenario, that is the least likely one,” Shaun informs him. “You have chosen the most ridiculous explanation, I suspect on purpose.”
Neil crosses his arms in a mildly challenging stance. “Name one scenario more plausible.”
“I moved your table.” Shaun takes a step aside, revealing the side table behind him, situated in the corner right next to the front door.
Oh. Neil doesn’t like admitting this, not one bit, but… “Maybe that’s slightly more plausible than it being stolen.”
“Slightly,” Shaun echoes, tone even enough that Neil can’t tell if he’s being mocked. (Which means he probably is.)
Neil waits but nothing is forthcoming. “So, Dr. Murphy,” he casually waves his keys in Shaun’s direction, “I have a question.”
“Yes?” Shaun’s the epitome of politeness.
“Why’d you rearrange the entryway?”
There’s that look—the one Neil feels like he’s been getting more often, as of late. The look that means Neil should have already known something, and that Shaun is equal parts amused and exasperated, yet somehow also fond of the fact that Neil’s clueless about whatever it is.
(Maybe Neil should find it more confusing as to how he knows all that from an expression that’s almost exactly like Shaun’s usual stoic expression, with only the faintest difference that Neil can see, yet can’t explain.)
“This is a better spot for the table,” Shaun’s telling him, as he sets his hand squarely in the middle of it, as if to cement its new home in the corner: the spot that Shaun has deemed it a better fit than the place where Neil is standing on the opposite side of the hall, a few yards away.
“Why?” Neil asks, knowing that if Shaun has made a decision, there’s a reason behind it. Or probably more than one.
“This is more convenient,” Shaun says, holding out an arm in Neil’s direction, as if he’s measuring (when Neil’s aware that he must already know the precise distance between them). “You are standing where the table used to be, which is five whole steps from me.”
Shaun’s emphasis hadn’t been an accident. “Five whole steps,” Neil echoes, in an oft-repeated refrain…alright, complaint, that Shaun has apparently gotten tired of hearing.
“Five. Whole. Steps,” Shaun slowly repeats, perhaps mocking him again. “You have said that to me eighteen times since I first came to your apartment.”
“No, really? That many?” Neil’s disappointed in himself, especially because it really hasn’t been that long. Six months since they began pretending to date each other, and double that amount of time since they became closer friends. “I need to get new material, I guess.”
“You began repeating that phrase…” Shaun’s tone turns questioning, “…as a joke?”
“The fact that you have to ask speaks for itself, I think.”
Shaun’s silent for a few moments before reluctantly admitting, “It does not speak for itself. I still do not know if you were repeating the phrase as a joke.”
Neil's about to take a step closer to him, in an instinctive desire to reach out and comfort, but he reins himself in and forces his feet to stay where they are. Shaun being unable to interpret his tone is not an occasion where Neil needs to touch him, for God’s sake, he just needs to be clearer with Shaun to try and avoid these kinds of misunderstandings. That’s all. (But the itch under his skin to be nearer to Shaun, to ensure he’s really okay through a casual brush of his hand, is so overpowering that it takes everything in him not to give in.)
“I kept repeating the phrase as a joke,” Neil says gently, relieved when Shaun’s uncertainty transforms into understanding. “And you didn’t find it humorous, which is why I said I needed new material.”
“You found it humorous,” Shaun tells him. “Therefore, it is a joke.”
“Not to you.”
“Yes,” Shaun stresses, “to me. Because your opinion is important to me.”
Neil knows that already; Shaun’s said similar things before. But like always, like every time, there’s something tightening in his chest—pressure to the point that Neil might call it painful, except he can’t, because it’s not, because nothing is physically happening to him. He clears his throat and tries to keep his words sufficiently light when he says, “Back at ya, Murphy.”
Shaun doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and Neil’s mentally bracing himself for whatever direction the conversation might go in, but all the younger man does is glance at the table again and return to their prior topic. “When you arrive home, you frequently complain that the table is too far away, usually because you are carrying something you want to set down.” His explanation is careful in a way that means he’s trying to figure out something that makes little sense to him. “I waited for you to make the logical conclusion that you should move the table, but you never did. While you were in New York…” He lightly taps his fingers on it. “…I decided to move the table.”
There’s a valid question in there, which Shaun hasn’t stated outright: why hadn’t Neil ever moved the table himself? Neil considers the table’s new placement in the corner and only then does he realize something is missing that’s usually there. “Shaun,” he begins slowly, “I think someone stole my coat rack.”
Shaun smiles at the callback to Neil’s joke a few minutes earlier. “No one stole your coat rack. I moved it. You never use it because you say it ruins your coats.”
“It does! Coats belong on hangers, Shaun. Do you want to ruin the material?”
“I do not,” Shaun says, gravely. “I happen to agree with you about the correct way to hang a coat.”
“See,” Neil gestures from his head to Shaun’s and back again, “this is why we’re such good friends—we get each other, Murphy. On the issues that really matter.”
“Like hanging coats.” Shaun’s voice is so serious that Neil finds it comical. “That is an issue which ‘really matters’.”
“I could hear the air quotes in there,” Neil informs him (he really could, it was bizarre). “I guess I just…never thought to move the coat rack.”
“I am aware of that,” Shaun says. “I could tell when you did not move it.”
Neil laughs and shakes his head at himself. “That coat rack was here when I moved in, believe it or not. It was an antique belonging to the previous tenant and he didn’t want to bring it to his new place.” Neil hasn’t thought about that in years. “I liked the way it looked when I moved in, like something a home should have. So I left it there even though I didn’t use it, and then Jess started to use it regularly, and guests seemed to like it, too.” Now that he has an excuse, he lets himself move (five whole steps) closer to Shaun, lightly pulling at the sleeve of his jacket. “Because everyone I associate with aside from you is completely uncultured on the finer points of coat hanging.”
“I do not believe anyone cares about that topic as much as you,” Shaun has the audacity to inform him, then looks down at Neil’s hand on his arm. It takes a moment for him to interpret the silent request, but once he does, he shrugs off his jacket. “I moved the coat rack, but it’s still easy to access.” He drapes his coat over Neil’s arm while he looks down the hall —
— at the not-stolen coat rack, which Neil hadn’t even noticed is a few more steps away, half-hidden by shadows because the only lamp currently on is right near the front door. (He’s strangely unobservant this evening and he wonders what has him so distracted…aside from the relentless exhaustion that he keeps forgetting about because Shaun has said something that obviously needs his full attention.)
“Guests can still use it to ruin their coats,” Shaun supplies, watching as Neil hangs both of theirs in the front closet, “and you now have the table next to the front door for easy access when you first step inside.”
“I guess that makes more sense,” Neil agrees, stepping back from the closet and shutting the door. He wonders why the simple act of shifting some furniture had never occurred to him. All he can guess is that he’d been so used to the way things were before that this new possibility hadn’t crossed his mind.
Just like it never crossed his mind a year ago that Shaun, who’d only been his resident—the resident he was overly fond of, for certain, but still just his resident—would someday be his best friend. Would someday be the person he’d be discussing furniture arrangements and the hanging of coats with, at nearly 10 o’clock on a Sunday night, in his hall entryway, when Neil should be getting ready for bed and Shaun should be…somewhere else. Anywhere else.
At home, probably.
(But he isn’t. He’s here with Neil, like this is where he belongs.)
Come to think of it, neither of them had told Morgan to bring Shaun here, either. She’d just assumed that with Neil having been away for a week, naturally he and Shaun—as ‘gratingly in love’ as she claims they are—would be eager to spend time together. She’d taken for granted that they were going back to Neil’s together, and she’d dropped them off without a protest from either Neil or Shaun.
Which means they’d taken it for granted as much as she had.
Neil wonders if Shaun hasn’t realized that, but it’s more likely that he did and just doesn’t care. (After all, if Shaun cared, he’d have said something to Morgan when she bypassed the route that led to his apartment in favor of heading straight to Neil’s.)
Neil wonders if he should mention it, but most of him doesn’t want to. Shaun knows where he is—he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be. Besides that, what if bringing it up causes Shaun to think that he really shouldn’t be here after all? Or worse, what if broaching the topic convinces Shaun that Neil has an issue with him being here? He never wants Shaun to second-guess himself, or feel uncomfortable in his presence.
He very determinedly tries not to think about his real motivation for not saying anything, which is that he doesn’t want to give Shaun a reason to leave. He really, really just wants him to stay.
What it comes down to is that he doesn’t think he’s over missing Shaun yet. And the only thing that makes him feel any better is Shaun. (Preferably within touching distance, but in his apartment is a close second.)
Shaun’s taken it upon himself to begin educating Neil on optimum furniture placement in a home’s entryway, and it clues Neil back in to the fact that he hasn’t heard a word Shaun’s said in over a minute.
“I—thank you, Shaun,” he interrupts, somewhere around the ideal number of drawers that a sideboard table should possess. Neil’s not sure what he’s thanking him for, either. Maybe for moving the furniture. But more likely for being there without Neil having to ask.
“You’re welcome,” Shaun replies. “Based upon your preferences, this is the best furniture arrangement.” It sounds like he’s summarizing a list of smaller points, which must be what Neil had missed when he’d checked out of the conversation.
“I’ll be sure to use the newly-situated table for my keys.” Neil retrieves them from his pocket, about to toss them on the table, when Shaun makes some noise of protest and he freezes. “Or…I won’t? No, I won’t.” He idly throws them a couple feet in the air and catches them. “I was just thinking that it’d be a terrible idea to put my keys on that table.”
Shaun’s looking at him disapprovingly. Again. Neil should start a running tally of how often he earns that expression—it’s always been too tempting to try and get Shaun to look at him that way because there’s usually affection in it.
And yes…there it is. Shaun might seem only disapproving on the surface, but there’s more to it, much more, that Neil can easily read—a definite air of ‘what am I supposed to do with you?’ along with a touch of ‘how did you survive without me?’. Neil has no answer for either of those questions, especially that last one, and all of it makes him feel as warm as Shaun’s eyes are.
“Why would you set your keys on the table when you have a brand new key holder?” Shaun tips his head slightly behind him and for the first time Neil looks past him and—yes, there is indeed a wooden key rack hanging on the wall next to the door. Not just a key rack, either—there’s a whiteboard over the key hooks, clearly meant for leaving notes to himself. Or another person.
Who Neil might leave notes to is another matter entirely, and he allows himself a moment to mourn the future he lost along with Jessica…marriage and children and a life that he’d expected to be happy. But she hadn’t wanted any of that. Not marriage, certainly not children, and in the end, nothing at all with him.
It’s not that Neil wants her in his future anymore, it’s that he still wants that future. He wants it with someone he loves and their children and —
“I didn’t hear you mention a key rack when you were explaining the ‘optimum’ entryway,” Neil says, mostly to cut off the way his thoughts are spiraling to a place much darker than where he is right now.
“I devoted twelve seconds to it,” Shaun sighs, but it’s fond. Always fond. “Allow me to show you.” He holds out his hand like he really thinks Neil needs a demonstration of how to hang keys on a hook.
Well…maybe Neil wants one.
He hands over his keys and Shaun carefully hangs them on the first hook on the rack. “It is that simple.”
Neil politely claps. “Thank you for that educational demonstration of how to hang up keys.”
“You’re welcome. I like to offer assistance whenever you need my help.” Shaun’s smile reveals his intentions before he adds, “No matter how often it might be.”
Neil narrows his eyes, wondering if he should let him get away with that, and closes the few steps between them. He’d only been intending to examine the new whiteboard, but Shaun moves aside so hastily that Neil realizes his resident had thought he might be taking his retaliation to a physical level. Shaun’s automatic evasion had once worried Neil, way back, but Shaun had been quick to assure him that he’s never actually been afraid of Neil.
There’s no fear in the way Shaun watches him. There never has been, and Neil’s determined that there never will be.
(Of course, that doesn’t mean Neil’s never going to have any fun.)
“You should run, Murphy,” Neil proclaims, taking a quick side step in Shaun’s direction just for the joy of seeing Shaun laugh when he steps back again in mild alarm. “After such disrespect. And towards your boss, no less.”
“Perhaps you should need my help less often,” Shaun suggests. “…If that is possible for you?”
Neil’s being baited. He knows it, Shaun knows it, and Shaun knows Neil knows it. Sometimes the only way for Neil to get ahead is to go against Shaun’s expectations entirely…which means Neil has to feign indifference, as hard as that is. He doesn’t toss back an equally teasing line, he doesn’t move closer, and he doesn’t retaliate in any physical way. That is, Neil doesn’t use any of the tactics he regularly employs in situations like this (all of which Shaun seems to delight in pulling from him).
Instead, all Neil does is shrug, like he’s letting it go. Shaun frowns at the lack of response, folding his hands while he tilts his head in question—everything about him shows that he does not understand. Neil checks for any hint of suspicion, but there’s none…just confusion which has led to curiosity.
The problem, of course, is that Neil’s plan works too well, causing the very kind of situation that Neil always fixes. Shaun not only trusts him to explain misunderstandings, but Neil is compelled (hard-wired, maybe) to do so. Outside of joking around with him, and teasing in a way Shaun has come to understand is simply Neil’s nature, it’s difficult (often impossible) for Neil to intentionally let Shaun believe something when it’s not true. If they’re playfully arguing, Neil might let it go on for a minute or two, but he doesn’t let Shaun’s confusion linger too long. He can’t, because Shaun might think he’s upset, or angry at him for some reason.
“When you least expect it, Murphy,” Neil warns, happy when Shaun’s uncertainty disappears once he realizes Neil was kidding around, as usual. “I’m going to retaliate when you least expect it.”
“I always expect it,” Shaun tells him, causing Neil to laugh.
“Yes, that’s probably the best strategy for dealing with me.”
“It is my only strategy,” Shaun assures him, though the lightness in it means he’s equally joking, and Neil has to turn away when he has the inexplicable urge to hug him again.
Neil distracts himself by inspecting the key rack, running a finger along the top of it. “I like the dark wood grain,” he notes. It’s the same as a lot of his furniture, which he knows isn’t an accident. Not with Shaun. (Shaun probably took pictures of his living room set to ensure the key rack matched the rest of his apartment, or at least complemented it, because that’s another word Shaun likes to throw around after ‘numerous interior design discussions’ with Claire.)
“I made sure it matched your living room furniture,” Shaun says, from behind him, and Neil sets his forehead against the wall, trying to stifle his laughter—does he know Shaun or does he know Shaun? “What is amusing?” Shaun continues.
Neil turns around, leaning back against his front door as he studies Shaun in that familiar, automatic assessment: nothing out of the ordinary, nothing amiss. Shaun’s fine. Tired, but fine. (Neil had desperately missed getting that kind of reassurance in only a few seconds.) “I was thinking about how well I know you. I’d already guessed that you matched the color to what I already own.”
“Claire says that a room’s motif is just as important as comfort and functionality,” Shaun explains, but Neil can tell from his tone —
“You don’t agree.”
“I do not.”
“But you followed her advice, anyways.”
“Yes. I have found that Claire often gives good advice,” Shaun hesitates, sounding reluctant when he admits, “whether I agree with her or not.”
“That’s a sensible position to take.” Neil wonders what advice Claire has given Shaun over the course of their friendship that Shaun disagrees with (despite knowing it’s ‘good advice’). “I’m sure she has a sharp eye for interior design considering all those TV shows she likes to go on about.”
“That is not the only thing we disagree about,” Shaun adds, surprising Neil with the turn in their conversation. “She often gives advice on relationships, solicited and unsolicited.” He tips his head from side to side, then rubs the back of his neck. “So does everyone else.”
“It’s called meddling, Shaun. Everyone we know excels at it.” Neil’s a little curious about what they’ve been saying, but he’s not sure if he wants to know…not if their advice pertains to him.
Neil’s pretty sure he doesn’t need to hear everyone’s unfiltered opinions about him and Shaun, especially since the other residents are likely to tell Shaun a lot more than they tell Neil. It’s not like he blames them, either, since he’s their boss (whether they’re technically his residents or not). Neil also tends to get overprotective about anything to do with his resident, especially when it comes to people bothering Shaun (either intentionally or not), people potentially disapproving of their relationship, or thinking they can get in between the two of them —
He shakes his head, reminding himself that none of that is likely to have any basis in reality. Their friends have always been supportive of their relationship, even if they don’t know the true details behind it. As for everyone else? Anyone who might not have been as supportive? No one has dared to suggest such a thing. Either no one has ever questioned his motives with Shaun or they’ve been smart enough to hide any doubts, because if anyone so much as hinted that he had anything other than Shaun Murphy’s best interests at heart —
Neil stops himself yet again, realizing he’s becoming angry about something that has never happened (and most likely never will).
It’s always been enough that his and Shaun’s ‘relationship’ is common knowledge—enough to deter others, enough to make Shaun’s world better, safer, maybe even brighter, if Shaun’s obvious happiness when they’re together is any indication. Neil doesn’t need to do anything else, doesn’t need to somehow prove how much he cares about Shaun. He doesn’t need other people to think he’s overprotective to the point of terrifying (no matter how much Audrey might enjoy claiming that’s exactly what he wants. Or needs. Or both).
“Are you going to leave your bags there?”
Neil might have emotional whiplash at such an abrupt change in topic from his thoughts. He checks the time—it’s been eight minutes, so he’d been right that Shaun wouldn’t last for ten before mentioning his luggage.
“I’ll move them,” Neil promises, turning back to the whiteboard to give himself a moment, “but first I need to test this out.” He removes the black marker that’s magnetically stuck to the board and taps it against his hand while trying to will Audrey’s disconcertingly accurate claims from his mind.
This is why he shouldn’t have friends.
“Next, take off the cap,” Shaun encourages from behind him, like maybe Neil forgot the steps. “Then you should use the marker to write a message on the board.”
“Murphy.” He holds up the marker so Shaun can see it over his shoulder. “I bet I could hit you with this even if I threw it without looking.”
Shaun ignores the ‘threat’ (which makes Neil want to follow through all the more). “You are the one who said you need to test the whiteboard. I am trying to help.”
“You are trying to provoke a reaction from me,” Neil volleys back, satisfied when Shaun doesn’t argue (likely because it’s true). After another few seconds, Neil makes a decision, writing ‘Stop worrying about the luggage’ in the middle of the whiteboard.
“I am not worried about the luggage,” Shaun insists, as Neil turns to face him.
“This, right here,” Neil extends his arm, waving his hand in a circle to indicate all of Shaun, “is worry. I told you, I’ll take care of it.”
“I am not worried about the luggage,” Shaun repeats, frustrated.
“Then what is it?”
“You,” Shaun says, with an emphasis that has Neil leaning towards him. “There are times when… You do not…” He sighs, then grits out, “I don’t know. I cannot explain it. Sometimes, you are not…you. And I want you to be you.”
His words strike a chord in Neil—he feels the same whenever Shaun’s acting off, because that means something is wrong and he needs Shaun to be alright again. It’s the same tension that coils in him whenever Shaun’s lost or angry or upset. It never fades on its own, either—it’s always simmering at a low level until he’s certain that Shaun’s back to being okay.
Neil’s used to focusing so much on Shaun that he forgets it’s the same the other way around—Shaun cares just as much about him. (He also had no idea he’d seemed off enough that Shaun had become concerned.) “I understand what you’re trying to say,” he tells Shaun. “I promise that I’m fine.”
Shaun doesn’t seem convinced, but he finally nods, and Neil can tell it’s the best he’s going to get right now.
Since Neil’s not really satisfied with that, he’ll do what he always does at times like these—make Shaun smile again.
“Did you miss the most important takeaway here, Murphy?” He gestures at the whiteboard in suitably dramatic fashion. “You got my message!”
“Stop worrying about the luggage. It would have been easier to say that than to write it.”
“But less fun,” Neil insists, as he points the marker at Shaun. (Why had he been wondering who he’d leave notes to? Of course they’ll be for Shaun—every single one he writes will probably be for Shaun.) “I expect you to leave me lots of interesting messages.”
Shaun stares at the whiteboard like he can’t believe Neil has wasted his very first message on something so inconsequential. “I will leave you practical messages about things you need to remember.”
“We’re back to ‘less fun’ again,” Neil mutters, waving the uncapped marker perilously close to Shaun, which gets his resident to smile—Neil has accomplished his mission in less than 30 seconds. “You brought this into my home, Murphy, so you have to accept responsibility for whatever I do with it.”
“I do not,” Shaun says coolly. “Also, it’s not polite to write on your house guests.”
“Whether it’s polite says nothing about whether I’ll enjoy doing it,” Neil argues, as Shaun takes the marker from his grasp and holds his hand out for the cap. “You’re too focused on rules,” Neil complains as he hands it over. “Try breaking them once in—” His sentence falls off a cliff when Shaun draws a black stripe along the back of his outstretched hand.
“You’re right,” Shaun says, “that was fun.”
Neil rubs at the back of his hand, but the mark doesn’t fade in the slightest. “Did you just draw on me?”
Shaun turns back to the whiteboard and writes ‘Yes’.
“Murphy.” Maddeningly, Shaun just taps on the board with the marker until Neil reads it aloud (making sure to sound as put out as he can manage). “Yes?”
“Yes, I wrote on you. Which you saw happen, so you did not need to ask me.”
“It was a rhetorical question meant to drive home my shock and indignation!” And Shaun knows that, he’s just being difficult to wind up Neil which is—working extremely well, Neil realizes, too late.
“You are correct that the whiteboard works,” Shaun confirms for him, neatly capping the marker and hanging it back up, “since you got my message.”
“I—yes, I did.” Neil’s always the most thrown when Shaun does to him the kind of thing that he normally does to Shaun. Shaun’s learning too well, maybe, but the thing is…Neil loves it.
“Then it was a worthwhile investment,” Shaun concludes, with no small amount of triumph.
“Yes, it was,” Neil warmly agrees, because Shaun’s waiting for him to say it. (He might know that Neil likes it, but he always wants to hear things like that.) Neil glances at the board again, and though it can’t have been that expensive, he still decides to check how Shaun had acquired it. “You better not have bought it yourself.”
“I got it from Amazon and I used your account,” Shaun says, and Neil taps his arm in a quiet measure of approval. Shaun knows better than to try and spend money on him, but sometimes he still does it, so Neil often reminds him that he doesn’t want Shaun to buy him things (at least not outside the realm of genuine gifts). Neil can’t tolerate it when he makes enough that money hasn’t been a concern in nearly a decade, while Shaun has to live in a major city on a resident’s salary.
“Good,” Neil firmly tells him, grabbing his suitcase and carry-on as they head towards the kitchen. “Remember, if you spend money on me, I’m sending you home.” He nudges Shaun’s shoulder when he walks by, heading down the hall to deposit the luggage in his bedroom. “Not really. I’d never kick you out.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” Shaun says a minute later, when Neil returns to find him on one of the bar stools at the island separating the kitchen and living room. “You enjoy it when I’m here.”
“And how do you know that?” Neil jokes, heading to the kitchen sink. He carelessly drops his phone on the island on his way by, causing Shaun to immediately shake his head while picking it up and setting it on the wireless charger (which had appeared there one day about a year ago, courtesy of Shaun, and Neil’s aforementioned Amazon account).
Neil pretends not to notice Shaun’s reaction, amused as it makes him (because Shaun would be even more disapproving), and washes his hands. To his surprise, the black ink doesn’t completely disappear. He should probably scrub harder, but instead he just dries his hands on a towel hanging neatly over the handle of the stove. It’s a touch that’s distinctly Shaun’s—Neil had never hung towels there before, but now it’s a habit.
“You have told me you like it when I’m here,” Shaun’s answering him. “Many times.”
“I have,” Neil murmurs in agreement, as he runs a finger over the line on his hand. He can admit that he’s become a lot happier over the past year, and that has everything to do with Shaun. With their friendship. Which he will never do anything to risk losing. He holds out his hand so Shaun can see the mark he’s left. “All the times I told you that were before you wrote on me, though.”
“Yes,” Shaun sounds unbothered, “they were.”
“If you recall, you’re the one who claimed it’s not polite to write on guests.”
“It’s not,” Shaun agrees. And then, with too much satisfaction, “You are not a guest.”
Neil frowns when he realizes that Shaun’s technically correct. “Fine. Then what’s it called when a guest writes on me?”
Shaun doesn’t hesitate. “Justice.”
That doesn’t sound right to Neil. “How do you figure?”
“You were going to do it to me,” Shaun (again, correctly) points out. “I did it first in retaliation.”
“You can’t retaliate against something I haven’t done!”
“Preemptive retaliation,” Shaun clarifies.
Neil’s fairly certain that’s not a real thing. “I think it’s just called harassment, Shaun.”
“You can call it whatever you like,” Shaun generously allows.
“Harassment,” Neil insists. “That’s what I like to call it.”
The subject gets him thinking about earlier, when Shaun had mentioned Claire—not that she gives Shaun a hard time on purpose, but that he sometimes doesn’t enjoy her advice on certain topics. What Shaun said was a hint at the whole story, so if there’s something bothering him that he’s not telling Neil…
He refocuses on Shaun, who’s typing away on his phone—no, on Neil’s phone, which he hadn’t seen Shaun steal from the charger. Neil should probably ask what he’s doing, but he gave up on that a long time ago. Shaun’s always sorting his emails or updating his to-do lists or adding new apps to help him organize his life—whatever it is, he knows it’ll help in some way.
He patiently waits for Shaun to finish whatever he’s doing before he says, “Earlier, you mentioned Claire has been giving you advice, but you didn’t seem too happy about it.” Shaun gives a noncommittal shrug, which isn’t good enough for Neil, so he decides to be more direct. “Did something she say bother you?”
“Yes.” Shaun takes too long perfectly situating Neil’s phone on the charger. He couldn’t be more obviously stalling if there were a flashing neon sign. “Sometimes she says things that bother me…but it is not her fault.”
Neil wonders if that addendum is for Shaun’s benefit or for his. (Of anyone, Shaun knows how irrational Neil tends to get about things like that.) He comes around the island to sit on the bar stool next to Shaun, signaling how seriously he takes this conversation. He’s also learned enough not to phrase his next statement as a question. “I want you to explain that to me.”
Shaun doesn’t look at him, which means he’s not entirely happy with the request, but he also doesn’t get off the bar stool and walk away, so at least he’s going to answer. It takes him about a minute, probably to gather his thoughts, before he says, “She does not know about our arrangement. I have never told anyone except Dr. Glassman.”
Neil tries to piece it together. “So she gives you advice as if our relationship is…real?” Shaun nods shortly and Neil tries desperately to push away his rapidly growing unease. “And that bothers you.”
“Yes.”
It’s the last thing Neil had expected, or wanted. In fact, the possibility had never occurred to him until now. “Shaun, I’m sorry. If you want to tell her, then you should. If it’s too hard to keep it a secret, from her or from anyone, you should tell them.”
Shaun finally looks at him, but says nothing.
“I wouldn’t be angry or upset, if you’re… If that’s something you’re concerned about.”
“I know you would not,” Shaun dismisses his worry. “I am not concerned about that.”
Shaun doesn’t explain further, so Neil’s going to have to guess. Like always, his next thought is one he despises thinking about, but it has to be said. “Would you like to stop the pretense, altogether?”
Shaun might as well be speaking in slow motion when he asks, “Stop…the…pretense?”
Neil almost wonders if Shaun hadn’t understood his question, but that can’t be right, because Shaun is the sharpest person he knows, and this conversation isn’t difficult to follow. “Yes, we could ‘break up’,” he offers, using air quotes to indicate they’d be acting it out.
Shaun squares his shoulders as he turns his whole body to face Neil more fully. “I do not want to do that,” he insists. “We would have to pretend we did not want to see each other anymore.”
“I know,” Neil reluctantly agrees, because he’s still never been able to come up with a way around that. “To be believable, we’d have to stop spending time together for a while. We’d have to act differently at work, too. And when we both hated doing that—” he pauses, wanting confirmation, and Shaun nods, “—the only alternative would be seeing each other in secret. We’d essentially have to hide our continued friendship from everyone we know.” It’s not only a bizarre thought, it feels wrong. (More wrong than the way they’re lying to everyone right now, which has somehow never felt ‘wrong’ to Neil, at all.)
“I do not want that,” Shaun repeats, fiercely. “Not any of that.”
“Then we won’t do it,” Neil says easily, certain that his relief is shining through, though he doesn’t care in the slightest. It feels like a physical weight has been lifted from him, at least for the time being. “I don’t want any of that, either.”
“You do not,” Shaun says, as if hearing it once wasn’t enough.
“No. I don’t.” Neil feels himself unconsciously leaning towards Shaun and sighs as he makes himself sit upright again. “I don’t think I could ever stop being your friend. I can’t imagine it, Shaun. Or rather, it’s that I can imagine it, and I hate everything about that potential future.”
“I would miss you too much,” Shaun agrees, saying the same thing in a different way. “I know what it’s like to…” He trails off, staring somewhere across the kitchen. “I already miss someone I can never see again. I don’t know why anyone would choose to feel that way.”
His words cut so unexpectedly, so sharply, that Neil takes a moment to remember to breathe. He’s felt the same way, too many times, with too many people. While the pain eventually fades and becomes bearable, it never goes away. Neil knows exactly what Shaun is saying—if his career has taught him anything, it’s to never take time with the people he loves for granted, because no one is guaranteed anything, let alone tomorrow.
He runs his hands over his eyes, which are starting to ache, and he doesn’t try to tell himself it’s because he’s tired. “I happen to agree with you,” he promises Shaun. “I wouldn’t voluntarily choose that option either.” (He might not choose it ever.)
“I do not want to miss you,” Shaun repeats. “If we…pretended to break up, and saw each other less, that is what would happen.”
“That’s not the only way out of this,” Neil feels like he has to point out. “We could admit the truth to everyone, tell them this was fake all along. Then we wouldn’t have to change anything about our friendship or the time we spend together.” As much as Neil wants to, he can’t avoid or ignore this next part. “There would be fall-out from it, though. People would be upset, not necessarily that we made up this story, but that we lied to them. They’d be hurt even though we didn’t intend to hurt anyone. They wouldn’t understand why we did it, and I’m not confident we could explain our reasons in any way they would accept.”
Those reasons make sense to him and Shaun, but he knows there would be people who would never see it the way they do—even people who might look for the worst intentions in what they’d done.
“I don’t want our friends to be upset. Or angry. At me, or at you.” Shaun’s concern is growing by the moment. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Neil knows it’s not just because Shaun’s kind or because he loves his friends—a lot of Shaun’s worry is because he knows exactly what it’s like to have people in his life who have hurt him, and he never wants to be the cause of that pain for someone else.
It’s one of the many, many reasons Neil loves him as much as he does.
“We don’t have to tell people anything,” Neil reminds him. “It was just a suggestion, another way to end this.” He conveniently ignores the fact that yes, they will have to tell people that this is over, eventually. In some far-off future. (What other option do they have?)
“I don’t want to end this,” Shaun says firmly.
“Then we do nothing,” Neil offers. “And things stay the same.”
“The same,” Shaun repeats, more to himself than Neil, as he nods. “Okay.”
“That’s what you want?” Neil asks, just to be sure. (He always has to be sure when it comes to Shaun.)
“I do not want to do any of the things you suggested,” Shaun says, and while it’s an answer, it’s close to not feeling like one. Neil examines it from a few angles before deciding he’s satisfied enough to stop pushing for more of an explanation, but he’s still curious about Claire and what advice she’s been giving to Shaun about their relationship.
“We were talking about Claire, before…” He waits for Shaun to nod before continuing, “If she asks questions you’re not comfortable answering, or you don’t want to talk about our relationship, just tell her that. Or change the subject. Claire’s pretty astute; she’d get the hint.”
“I have done both those things,” Shaun informs him. “It works. Claire is respectful of me. She is respectful of both of us.”
Neil tries for all of three seconds, but he can no longer contain his curiosity. “Does she bring up our relationship often?”
“Not too often. Only when she thinks I need advice.” Shaun’s frowning again. “I do not often need advice.” He looks at Neil, in thought. “Does she offer you advice?”
“She rarely mentions our relationship at all, let alone tries to give me advice.” Neil neglects to add that she knows better than to try. He doesn’t react well when people interfere, deliberately or not, with his and Shaun’s relationship—as his issues with Audrey (sharing her unhelpful opinions) and Marcus (intentionally separating them) attest. “I don’t even know what Claire thinks about us,” he continues. “Not really. I’ve heard her make positive remarks here and there, much like Reznick but without the blatant mocking. I know she doesn’t have any objection to our relationship, but I’ve never heard her say anything that went beyond the surface.”
Shaun seems genuinely surprised by that. “Claire loves that we are together.”
That doesn’t sound entirely accurate. “You mean she loves that she thinks we’re together.”
“…Yes,” Shaun says carefully, as if he thinks Neil needs extra time to process what he’s saying, “that is what I said.”
Was it? Neil shakes his head and moves on. “It makes sense she would keep her opinion more to herself around me. You and Claire are friends in a way that she and I aren’t…and probably couldn’t be unless I were no longer her boss.” He and Claire are close in their own way, but more in a professional capacity than anything else. Outside of some occasional exceptions, they don’t discuss overly personal matters or issues, mostly because neither of them would be comfortable doing so. (And what that says about his relationship with Shaun is probably not even worth delving into.)
“You are my boss,” Shaun points out, with an unnerving front row seat to Neil’s thoughts, “and we are very close.”
“I know. But you’re…” Neil lets the sentence fade, mostly because he has no idea how to finish it. “Our relationship is different.”
“Why?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Neil answers, honestly. He’s asked himself the same thing many times and never found a definite answer. “We connect in a different way, on a different level. We always did.” It goes back to before they pretended to date each other. Even back before they were friends. “The best I can explain is that we understand each other, which has allowed us to become as close as we have.”
For a lot of people, this type of relationship would only be possible with a work colleague if they were able to separate their personal and professional lives—there’s a reason it’s good advice to avoid intimacy with co-workers, especially between superiors and subordinates. Yet he and Shaun haven’t separated anything about their lives; they’ve somehow managed to do the exact opposite.
It comes back to what Neil had known from the very beginning: he’s incapable of drawing lines when it comes to Shaun. He not only doesn’t want to, he doesn’t know how. Shaun had been unable to, as well—all he’s ever done is draw Neil more into his life. (Neil can’t think of a time his resident has ever pushed him away and meant it.)
As a result, maybe what happened was inevitable: he and Shaun had at some point, somehow, combined all aspects of their lives—personal and professional—into a closeness that exists both inside and outside their hospital. That closeness had led them to a place where they felt comfortable faking a romantic relationship to present an appearance to outsiders, while also allowing them to develop a deep friendship that’s crucial to both of them. Neil’s never had this with anyone else before in his life and probably never will again. The circumstances are too unique to ever possibly recreate.
Which says nothing about the fact that he wouldn’t want to recreate this, even if he could.
He doesn’t want this with anyone except Shaun.
“Claire has said the same thing,” Shaun’s telling him, as Neil struggles to remember their conversation (apparently he hasn’t gotten over his habit of getting too easily distracted wherever Shaun’s concerned).
“She said…we understand each other?”
“Yes.” Shaun’s smiling at him. “She did.”
“So she approves of our relationship? All the positive comments she’s made weren’t just about…being nice, or trying to stay on my good side?” He glances at Shaun. “Our good side.”
“No.” Shaun seems baffled. “That is what you thought?”
“Well, I’ve wondered,” Neil has to admit.
“Claire does not hesitate to speak her mind to you, or me, or Dr. Andrews. Or Dr. Glassman. Or our patients who are disagreeable, or argumentative, or mean.” Shaun’s voice drops to an almost awed murmur, “She is not afraid of anyone.”
“No, but she cares what I think,” Neil reminds him. “She wants my approval. And Lim’s, and Andrews’, and all along, up the line. I’m not singling her out, either. Everyone feels that way, it’s just a fact of having a job and answering to bosses.”
Now Shaun’s the one struggling to follow Neil. “You thought she was lying so that…you would not be upset with her?”
“Maybe,” Neil admits. “But that actually doesn’t concern me. Nearly everyone shades the truth of what they say based on who they’re talking to. What bothers me…” Neil’s trying to figure out how to explain, surprised when he realizes the truth of it. “I guess I’m the one who wants her approval. I want her to mean it, not just say it because she thinks it’s what we want to hear, or because it’s the diplomatic thing to say.”
He and Shaun had agreed, not too long ago tonight, that other people’s opinions about their relationship don’t really matter to them anymore, and in a broader sense, it’s definitely true. What random co-workers or patients think about them is inconsequential, because it would never change the way they are with each other.
However, there are a few people who matter more than most, and those are the people whose opinions are important to Neil on all things. When it comes to what Aaron might think, or Audrey, or Claire… He values their opinions and trusts their judgement. He knows that through all of this, their entire fake relationship, he’s always been trying to do the best thing for Shaun…but he also wants other people to agree. To issue some confirmation that he’d made the right decisions, that this (insane, impractical, wonderful) idea has been an unparalleled success. He and Shaun have accomplished everything they wanted. They’re both happy with the way things are.
Yet still…a part of him (a part Neil can usually keep buried) sometimes makes itself known. Those are the times he wonders if he’s really done the right thing, because this entire arrangement has caused them to become close enough that Neil has no idea how they’re ever going to stop being this way. (Can they really keep this going forever? And if Neil suggested such a thing, what are the odds that Shaun would reconsider, forcing the separation that Neil had been trying to avoid in the first place?)
“Claire approves of our relationship,” Shaun tells him, serious enough to prove that Claire’s opinion is important to him, as well. Claire is Shaun’s closest friend after Neil, so Shaun gives her opinion more weight than most people’s (and Neil does the same, for just that reason).
Neil wonders, at times, what Claire would think if she knew the entire truth: that their whole ‘relationship’ was a hastily thrown together plan to get people to leave them alone. If the end result was the same—that it helped Shaun just as much—would she still approve? (Neil really hopes she would.)
Neil has always been troubled by the possibility other people might think he and Shaun aren’t good for each other, but he’s never heard that—from anyone. Shaun’s never heard it, either. (He would have told Neil if he did.)
Neil lets his eyes linger over his resident, who has returned his attention to Neil’s phone, oblivious to the scrutiny.
Shaun seems to have no idea how much you love him, Audrey repeats in his head, over and over, because she doesn’t listen to him any better in his own mind than she does in real life.
Her conclusion on the plane had bothered him a few hours ago (and still does), but Neil wonders, in a way, if it’s really such a bad thing. It’s probably better if there are certain things Shaun doesn’t know. Like the way Neil’s mind occasionally wanders to a world where their relationship is real.
What would it be like?
He’d been thinking about it on the trip, and he’d tried to write it off as a consequence of missing Shaun as much as he did. But those thoughts have been surfacing more lately, back even before he went to New York. They’ve also been harder to ignore every time. (Sometimes, Neil doesn’t have it in him to try.)
Neil knows that wondering about it is harmless, that it doesn’t have to mean anything. Everyone has random thoughts they don’t ask for and can’t control. Like most people, Neil has learned to compartmentalize and not give any significant meaning to things like that.
He is curious, though, if Shaun’s thoughts have ever followed a similar path. Neil’s even hinted at it on various occasions, trying to discern Shaun’s feelings on the matter without making him uncomfortable, but Shaun hasn’t said anything to make Neil think he’s imagined their relationship as more.
And why would he? Neil remembers how they first got here, how Shaun had been so frustrated with a co-worker pursuing him that he’d created this fake relationship out of thin air. Shaun only happened to choose Neil as the other half of it because they’d been conveniently standing next to each other.
Shaun probably would have done the same thing with any friend he trusted who was there. If someone like Alex or Claire had been in the breakroom instead, and witness to Shaun’s distress, they probably would have gone along with it, too, if only to help Shaun in the moment. Afterwards, they would have helped him come up with a better solution for dealing with unwanted attention.
They certainly never would have kept up the pretense of a long-term romantic relationship. Not the way he and Shaun have.
Neil’s stomach clenches at the thought that he might not have been there that day. That he might not have known Shaun needed his help—that the past six months could have gone by with him oblivious to the struggles Shaun was going through, alone…
No one could have helped Shaun the way he has. Neil knows that for certain, and takes comfort in the fact that he had been there. He’d seen what was happening, he’d helped Shaun out of his predicament, and then he’d just…never stopped helping him.
They’re much better friends now than they were back then, mostly because of the deal they’d made. It had given them more opportunities to be around each other all the time. But Shaun had never intended this arrangement to actually be—or turn—romantic. Romance, in fact, was what Shaun had been expressly looking to avoid. Neil had been trying to avoid it, too, but his recent shift in thinking is probably a sign that he’s ready to…date someone again.
Even as he thinks it, a chill sweeps over him. The idea of inviting a stranger into his life is as unappealing as it was the last time he thought about dating again, so maybe he was wrong. He’s not actually ready to date anyone, and his thoughts about Shaun have been due to…idle curiosity. His mind has become confused by the different roles they have to play depending upon who they’re with (and the loneliness he feels pretty much all the time now, whenever he’s at home and Shaun’s not there).
Yes, those are all practical reasons for why he feels the way he does.
Maybe the loneliness that seeps in whenever Shaun’s not around is just something he’ll have to get used to. Part of being single while inevitably getting older, and watching everyone who used to be single along with him find happiness of their own.
Or maybe he just needs companionship, whatever the form. Perhaps he should spend more time with his friends. Or try to make new ones, even.
Maybe he should get a pet.
He wonders what Shaun would think about that.
The man at the center of his current thoughts sets Neil’s phone back on the charger and swivels on the bar stool to face the living room, causing Neil to follow suit in unthinking habit. A couple of low lights are on in the corners of the room; Shaun must have turned them on when Neil was moving his bags to the bedroom.
Neil studies his living room, or more accurately, the familiar outlines of his furniture which are now in unfamiliar places. “Going by the pattern of our evening, Murphy, I’m going to guess that no one broke in to rearrange my living room?”
“No,” Shaun says, complete with a smile. “It was me.”
Neil slides off the stool to walk over to the couch, which is now facing the kitchen instead of the side wall. “You didn’t like the way it was before?”
“It was not ideal,” Shaun informs him. “From the couch, you could talk to people in the kitchen, but it was an awkward angle for everyone. This set-up will improve conversation between the living room and kitchen, while also allowing comfortable viewing of the TV from all locations. It is much better than the way you had it.”
Neil sits in his usual spot on the couch, and then lies down to fully take in the new section of the living room where he’ll be spending most of his time from now on. After a minute he sits up, brushing aside the tendrils of sleep that are beckoning. “I like it. And you’re right.” He gestures at the direct line of sight between himself and Shaun. “Much better than before when I had to turn every time I wanted to talk to you while you were in the kitchen.”
“Of course I am right.” Shaun sounds offended at the implication he could have been anything else. “Now you can speak to anyone in the kitchen with ease.”
“Anyone?” Neil laughs. “You mean you. You are the only person in my kitchen, most of the time. And when there’s someone else there, know who it is?” He waits for Shaun to shake his head, then reveals, “It’s me.”
“You could frequently have other people over that I do not know about,” Shaun says, but there’s enough of a question in it that Neil stares at his resident more intently.
“Could I?” Neil asks, trying to convey that the answer is obvious. He might be friendly with a lot of people, might know many whom he’d call a ‘friend’ and who would consider him the same, but none of them are the kind who visit him often—and even if they were, there’s no world in which he’d exclude Shaun from them, or any other part of his life. “Could I really?”
“No?” Shaun asks, in what is appallingly too much of a guess. Neil shakes his head, mouthing ‘no’ along with it, and Shaun’s expression lightens considerably, like he’s relieved that there isn’t some secret part of Neil’s life that he has no access to.
Like he has no idea that he is Neil’s life, in all the ways that matter.
But it’s okay if he doesn’t know the true extent of it. If he never knows.
Because Shaun’s happy with the way things are and that’s all Neil has ever needed to know.
Notes:
Don't blame Neil too much here, he's absolutely convinced Shaun will never want a real relationship with him and he's trying desperately to steel himself for that inevitable future. And too bad we don't know if he's right or not, seeing as Shaun never offers any hints... (Yes, this is my friendly reminder that everything I write will end happily ;)
Chapter 13
Notes:
Okay, after this is Las Vegas...probably. ;) I hope you all enjoyed this 25K word, 2 chapter detour. Yes I somehow wrote 25K words of them hanging out at Neil's apartment doing literally nothing except being in love. (I can't help myself, I swear.) Thank you all for the support, it means the world to me. <3
Chapter Text
Neil stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles as he relaxes further into the couch. It’s not the best idea to get too comfortable because he’ll fall asleep here, and Shaun never lets him get away with that for too long—not when, as he says, Neil has a ‘perfectly adequate bed’ in his room (and no amount of complaining on Neil’s part that it’s too much effort to get to that bed ever seems to sway Shaun’s opinion).
Shaun’s still on the bar stool over at the island, facing Neil’s direction, but not paying him any mind as he types on his phone.
“I can sleep here, right?” Neil asks. He runs a hand thoughtfully over one of the throw pillows, pretending he doesn’t enjoy the brief, scolding glance his question earns him.
“No.” Shaun’s already back to his phone. “You cannot.”
“I don’t think you could stop me,” Neil insists, mostly to engage in an argument that will keep him awake, and not because he delights in having Shaun’s whole attention. (Which is a good thing, because he still doesn’t have it.)
Shaun is unforgivably uninterested in Neil’s totally real challenge and doesn’t remove his eyes from his phone. “I could stop you.”
It’s the truth and they both know it. (Still, see if Shaun will ever get Neil to admit it.) “I really don’t think you could.”
“I could.” The edge to it means Neil has won Shaun’s entire focus and he tips his head back on the couch to hide the smile that spreads across his face. Nothing captures Shaun’s attention as much as saying something he feels compelled to correct.
“If you say so,” Neil hums, like he’s indulging Shaun and there’s absolutely no merit to the younger man’s claim.
“I have stopped you in the past,” Shaun points out. “I will do it again if I have to.”
“Can’t you let me win?” Neil raises his head to look at him. Shaun’s loosely holding his phone in his lap, whatever he’d been doing forgotten now that he’s fully engaged in an official argument. “Just once.”
“No. It would set an irresponsible precedent.”
Neil’s only able to stop himself from smiling thanks to decades of practice. “You are aware that sometimes I sleep on this couch when you’re not here to berate me about it.”
“I am aware,” Shaun confirms, brow furrowing in a dead giveaway that he’s not a fan of it, either. “I suppose I need to stay over more often.”
That’s definitely the best, most reasonable response to Neil’s admission. “You probably should.”
Shaun nods, like that settles the matter. “Also, I do not berate you. I remind you of how terrible you feel when you sleep on the couch. At your age, you should always be sleeping in a bed.”
“I love that reminding me of my age is your go-to argument for most things.” Neil stretches his arms over his head, mentally lowering his estimate for how long he can stay where he is while keeping his eyes open. “Despite all the things you claim I need to do better, Shaun,” he keeps his voice light, intending it as reassurance and not criticism, “I’m somehow still alive.”
“For now.” Shaun’s tone is sharp, not liking the topic. It seems like he wants to stop talking, but can’t help his next accusation. “You should take better care of yourself.”
That’s really the heart of the matter according to Shaun. He’s forever complaining that Neil doesn’t do nearly as much as he should for himself (like he forgets that Neil’s a doctor and a damn good one).
Neil’s confident that he does more than enough to maintain his health (more than most people, in his vast experience). Shaun just has these…impossibly high standards. Like expecting Neil to sleep in a bed every night and eat a well-balanced diet and reduce his level of stress (at least the last one is easily accomplished by keeping Shaun close).
Okay, so maybe Shaun’s standards aren’t impossible, per se. Or even that unreasonable. But Neil’s busy all the time, so it’s easy to overlook his own needs in favor of everyone else’s—and Shaun hates that. He lets his concerns be known at every opportunity, to the point that Neil often finds it easier to give in than to argue (which might be Shaun’s goal).
It’s time to switch Shaun’s attention away from everything Neil doesn’t do and back to everything Shaun does for him. (It tends to make his resident feel better.)
He turns Shaun’s accusation around, asking fondly, “Why would I take better care of myself when I’ve got you to do it for me?”
He expects Shaun to seize the opening and list the the numerous things he does (daily, monthly, always) which serve to make Neil’s life more manageable and less chaotic. Then Neil can make a joke or five about how Shaun runs his life better than he does (it’s true) and that will remind the younger man how much he’s appreciated. After that, hopefully Shaun will let the issue go, because few things aggravate his resident as much as when he gets it into his head that Neil should be doing more for himself—that he should care about himself as much as he cares about his patients, his family, his friends. Shaun.
Which is —
Well. It’d be an impossible task.
Shaun doesn’t start listing things, though. He doesn’t throw back another quip, he doesn’t even get annoyed, like he sometimes does when he’s not in the mood to joke around. Instead, he just watches Neil with steady determination and says, “Yes. You do have me.”
Neil’s a little surprised by the serious answer to his not-so-serious question. He’s not certain, but he thinks Shaun has tensed in anticipation of his response, so he infuses his voice with as much gratitude as he can when he agrees, “Yes, I do.”
“We take care of each other,” Shaun says firmly, a strained thread running through the words which warns Neil not to argue.
(Not that Neil would dream of refuting that, even jokingly. Not when it’s probably the truest thing about their relationship that’s ever been said.)
“We do,” Neil promises, adding a note of finality to it so Shaun will relax again, his eyes lingering over Neil before he returns to his phone.
Neil’s hit with a memory from a week and a half earlier—three days before he left for the New York conference. He and Shaun had been at Neil’s place, sitting on the same couch Neil’s currently trying to stay awake on. Neil had been lying in his usual spot at one end, while Shaun had been sitting at the other end with his legs folded in front of him.
They’d been talking about the upcoming trip, working out last minute snags in the itinerary. Since Neil was annoyed about having to go anywhere, he’d mostly complained about each problem while Shaun listened, talked it through, and then fixed things for him.
“You’d be lost without me,” Shaun tsked, after he canceled a luncheon Neil was dreading and miraculously convinced Audrey to take Neil’s place without a fight. (Did everyone like Shaun better than Neil? Probably.)
Neil had crossed his feet at the ankles, looking down the length of his couch to where Shaun was smiling in satisfaction at checking off the last item on their list. Even almost fully reclined, there was still a foot of space between his feet and Shaun’s leg. (Why’d he buy such an oversized couch, anyways?)
He’d thought about every problem he’d thrown at Shaun over the previous week—aside from the usual issues at work, Shaun had been directly responsible for keeping him sane. In the days leading up to the conference, Neil had too much stress and not enough time, so he’d known there was no way he’d survive the daily, hour-long lunches Marcus scheduled all week to go over his upcoming itinerary with a fine tooth comb. When he’d said as much to Shaun, his resident had immediately volunteered to meet with their boss in Neil’s place (for some mysterious, unknown reason).
Andrews hadn’t complained about the switch, first (and most importantly) because it meant less time with Neil, and second, because Marcus and Shaun strangely enjoyed bonding over mind-numbing things like scheduling details and time management and improving efficiency. Once Shaun began meeting regularly with Andrews to discuss the conference, it had been easy for him to take over the rest of the arrangements for the trip (aside from the things Andrews had already finalized, like their flights and hotel).
In light of everything Shaun had done for him, Neil had considered the younger man’s teasing comment with newfound gravity: where would he be without Shaun?
He’d be stressed and exhausted. He’d be wondering if it was appropriate to panic once he realized how much he’d put off and had to accomplish on his own at the eleventh hour and fifty-ninth minute. Worse than that, he’d be angry about being taken away from his patients and residents, and he’d be keeping that frustration inside because lashing out wouldn’t fix the situation. If anything, it’d be counter-productive, only serving to make Andrews and the board angry at him while they still forced him to attend the conference.
Given all that, Neil was 98% certain that without Shaun in his life, he would have been entertaining last-minute excuses to get out of the entire thing. (Would the board believe he was sick? Or abducted by aliens? Or finally driven insane enough by his residents to require an extended personal leave?)
But lying on his couch that evening, ten days ago, Neil hadn’t been stressed or exhausted or angry. Not with Shaun close enough to reach if he so much as stretched his legs. He’d actually felt relaxed—not overjoyed about going to New York, by any means, but he’d been comfortably resigned. He also had few, if any, worries about the upcoming trip. It was a novel feeling, but Shaun had gone over everything, so Neil knew it would be fine.
“Lost,” Neil had repeated to himself, restlessly shifting around on the couch. When he’d resettled against the cushions and realized they were closer, he pressed a foot against Shaun’s knee, where he was still sitting cross-legged. Shaun glanced down, then over in question, so Neil reminded him, “You just said I’d be lost without you. And you’re right.” He’d winked and added hyperbolically, “I’d be so lost that I don’t know where I’d be right now.”
Shaun had set a hand on Neil’s ankle, tapping his fingers along it in a rhythm so perfectly repetitive that Neil could have counted time by it if he wanted to. Shaun’s hand was warm through the fabric of the pajama pants Neil had thrown on as soon as he got home (because unlike Shaun’s claims to the contrary, yes, Neil was allowed to wear pajamas at 3:30 in the afternoon and no, he was not breaking any rules by doing so—except for the arbitrary ones Shaun made up to drive him crazy, of course). Neil waited patiently while Shaun stared somewhere across the room, presumably thinking about what he’d just said.
“I know where you would be,” Shaun had revealed, once he turned back to Neil. “Right here. At home.”
“Yeah.” Neil flexed his feet, wondering if Shaun had taken him literally on purpose. “Not with you, though.”
“No,” Shaun agreed, the motion of his fingers coming to a stop. “Not with me.”
After that, silence had fallen, Neil feeling hot and cold and wrong when he pictured that alternate version of his life. Shaun Murphy, his colleague and resident and…nothing more. He’d closed his eyes and imagined Shaun’s permanent absence from every part of his life. It had been almost unthinkable, the idea of Shaun not being there.
If things had gone that way, would he have cared that Shaun wasn’t in his life? Would he have even noticed?
After all, if Neil had drawn lines with Shaun from the beginning, it was possible he never would have cared for him beyond their professional relationship. They might have always kept a careful distance from each other—instead of dreading their impending separation due to a work trip, they might have been two people who’d never spent enough time together to consider themselves ‘separated’ when they were apart.
They might have been two people who never missed each other at all.
“Shaun…” Neil had begun, glancing at the younger man, whose eyes were shut while the colors from the silent TV played across his face. (They were 85 minutes into a sci-fi Netflix movie they’d muted about 80 minutes earlier by silent agreement, then proceeded to forget about.) “That idea…of us not being here together.” Not being friends. “I don’t like that. …Do you?”
Shaun hadn’t looked at him, but his fingers tightened around Neil’s ankle before relaxing again. “No.”
“Good. That’s good.” Neil had dropped his head back onto the pillows behind him, amazed at the overwhelming relief he felt. “We’ll keep…not liking it. Together. Sounds good to me.”
Shaun tapped his fingers along Neil’s shin again, but the pattern had turned uneven, or at least nothing Neil could recognize. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Neil promised, grateful that his nonsensical ramblings hadn’t spurred Shaun to retire to the guest room for the night (though it’d been a while since Shaun abandoned him in the living room—he claimed he didn’t trust leaving Neil to his own devices). “Ignore me, Shaun.”
“I cannot,” Shaun sighed, complaining in a tone that Neil suspected was a result of spending too much time with Morgan. “You make it impossible.”
“Do I?” Neil asked innocently, pressing his toes into Shaun’s knee again.
Shaun had looked pointedly at his foot, then back at Neil’s face to confirm, “You do.” He was trying to sound unaffected, but Neil could see the amusement all over him.
“That sounds about right,” Neil admitted, laughing. His eyes skimmed over the TV, then back to Shaun, who was still watching him. “Want to finish the movie?”
“The movie?” Shaun asked, like he had no idea they’d started one. Neil waved at the TV, causing Shaun to blink in recognition, though he still gave no answer to Neil’s question.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Neil rummaged around for the remote buried somewhere beneath the mountain of pillows at his end of the couch (Shaun doesn’t love them, so Neil slowly ends up with most of them when they’re sitting together). “Since you chose this one, now it’s my turn.”
“There is…” Shaun hesitated, “…a new documentary I’ve been—” He’d stopped when Neil levered himself to a sitting position, offering the remote, which Shaun took with his free hand. “I did not tell you what it was.”
“I don’t care,” Neil had declared, throwing himself back down with enough force that Shaun was jostled at the end of the couch. His resident pinched his ankle lightly in rebuke, so Neil launched a throw pillow in his direction. Shaun batted it away and huffed as he stared him down. “I’ll watch anything you want,” Neil quickly told him, hoping to distract Shaun from an all-out war (Neil would normally be all for it, but he’d been too tired that particular night). “We both know I’m going to fall asleep, anyways.”
Shaun had known that, which was probably why he didn’t retaliate (or…re-retaliate?). He’d put on a documentary about medicine in the early 19th century, and it had been fascinating enough that Neil made a note to watch it when he was more awake, because sure enough, he’d drifted off ten minutes into it, sleeping for the next hour and a half until the credits rolled sometime around midnight. Shaun had nudged him awake and sent him (protesting all the way) to bed.
If Shaun hadn’t been there, Neil would have slept on the couch all night and regretted it.
You’d be lost without me, Shaun had joked that night, but he was right. And now, ten days later, with the conference thankfully behind them, he’s still right.
He thinks about telling Shaun that, but the younger man is currently doing something with both their phones over at the island, and looks too focused for Neil to interrupt him. So instead, Neil gives up his internal struggle and lets his eyes fall shut as his thoughts drift…right back to Shaun.
Without him, Neil would be a lot of things—none of them good.
He might be a wreck without Shaun Murphy (though he tries not to think about that too much).
Truth be told, everything they do for each other has been something Neil tries not to analyze too closely. (How much should friends help each other? As much as they needed, right? That had always seemed like a safe place to end his musings.)
It started at the hospital, like most things in Neil’s life. Their professional relationship had evolved from a rocky start to a tentative understanding, then to a mutual respect and admiration for each other. Even when they didn’t get along, they’d always genuinely cared about each other—and that caring had formed an unshakable foundation for the friendship they built upon it.
Shaun has an eerie sense of timing when it comes to saving Neil from Marcus or the board or himself. He knows Neil’s schedule (and how to manage it) probably better than Neil does. But more importantly, there’s something different about the way the two of them work together; it’s something Neil doesn’t have with anyone else. Sure, Neil’s able to come up with satisfactory treatment plans with all his colleagues, but there’s more to the process when he’s working with Shaun. They connect in a way that neither of them has ever found with anyone else.
Somehow, some way, their methods of problem solving perfectly complement each other. When they’re throwing ideas around, trying to work through whatever impossible roadblock has appeared in their path, they’re able to springboard off each other’s suggestions to find each subsequent piece of the puzzle. As a result, the solutions they devise are a brilliant, complicated, interwoven combination of ideas that wouldn’t have been possible without both of them. Answers never come as easy, for either of them, as they do when they’re together. They can tell, with unerring accuracy, when the other is on the verge of a breakthrough, and how to provide the last push needed to get there.
It hadn’t taken long for their relationship to become about more than work, either. Their closeness had naturally translated outside of the hospital. It had been easy—and maybe, given their inability to stay away from each other, it had been inevitable.
Shaun loves to claim that Neil is ‘reluctant’ when it comes to getting his life in order, and Neil generally agrees with that assessment. If left to his own devices, he’ll ignore the more trivial, mundane aspects of life in favor of getting important things done—and since he’s a highly-sought after surgeon, he never runs out of important things. Neil’s penchant for avoiding menial tasks means that he’d put some things off forever, if he could. But Shaun? Forget it, he never wants to put things off for five minutes, let alone forever.
At first, Neil had worried their different approaches to life might lead to serious clashes between them, but…it never has. Shaun might enjoy complaining (usually when he decides that Neil isn’t taking care of himself according to the exceedingly high standards Shaun has set) but he understands why Neil puts things off the way that he does. His resident has taken to stepping in for him whenever Neil can’t (or doesn’t want to) do something he knows he otherwise should.
A few months into their friendship, Shaun had begun offering to do things to help Neil save time, or stay on task, or cut down on his aggravation. Things like filing his taxes, or reordering his prescriptions, or setting up a new food delivery service they could both add groceries to (because Shaun does most of the cooking when they’re together). Neil had found himself agreeing, letting Shaun do whatever he wanted—and why wouldn’t he? It lets him breathe easier, freeing up time to focus on more crucial things, and besides that, Shaun enjoys helping him, so it’s win-win in Neil’s book.
There’s a deeper truth to it, though, one that Neil’s only recently started to admit to himself: when Shaun does things for him, Neil feels…cared for. Appreciated. Valued. Not because of his talent or skills or what he can do for other people, but because of who he is. Shaun doesn’t help Neil in order to impress him, or to get anything in exchange. He doesn’t do it because he feels it’s his obligation as Neil’s resident to help his boss. Shaun does it for one reason: because they’re friends and he wants to make Neil’s life easier in whatever ways he can.
It’s the same reason that Neil’s always trying to help Shaun. The things he does for his resident are a lot different than what Shaun does for him, but they’re no less necessary. Most of the time, he focuses on protecting Shaun to the best of his ability—which isn’t to say that Shaun can’t protect himself, it’s just easier for him to let Neil do it. (Easier for both of them, really.)
The threats they face aren’t always external. In fact, as time has gone on, many of the ones that were have faded or disappeared entirely. As Audrey had explained during their chat on the plane a few hours ago, once it became widely known that Neil and Shaun were ‘together’, people became a lot more cautious about doing anything that Neil might interpret as a threat to them or to Shaun.
Neil’s focus lately has turned more towards threats that are internal. Shaun can be his own worst enemy, falling into old, self-destructive habits learned during a childhood that still haunts him. His resident is an expert at avoiding things—which Neil can’t blame him for, seeing as he’s somewhat of an expert there, too. The difference is that Neil has learned through experience when avoidance is going to hurt more in the long run.
Neil didn’t end up where he is by accident. He’s had a decade and a half longer than Shaun to learn how to navigate the areas where his resident still struggles the most: the social and political aspects that are a major, unavoidable part of their careers. To his credit, Shaun has certainly come a long way since they first met, in that regard. He’s able to deal with colleagues and patients and the administration much better than he used to, but he still regularly seeks out help, which Neil is more than happy to provide.
Neil knows how to change his approach based upon who he’s with: Marcus or the board, benefactors or colleagues, patients or their families. He knows when diplomacy will get him what he wants, but also when it’s necessary to let his anger or frustration show. He can anticipate problems that haven’t happened yet, both those he can hold off and those he can’t. He knows when all the signs are telling him that the only way out of a bind is asking for help, and when it’s time to let someone else handle the problem entirely. And he has tried, to the best of his ability, to teach all of that to Shaun.
Since most of it is instinctual by now, Neil’s had to figure out how to break it down into steps that Shaun can logically follow. If Shaun has a problem or issue, Neil doesn’t tell him what he should do (not unless he feels it’s necessary) but he provides guidance and encouragement, steering Shaun to recognize all the things Neil takes for granted after so long at his job. He’ll offer potential solutions and help Shaun work his way towards whichever one suits his resident the best.
Neil answers questions, even the ones Shaun doesn’t know how to ask. He explains misunderstandings, whether they’re between himself and Shaun, or Shaun and someone else. He provides reassurance, repeating out loud whatever he knows Shaun needs to hear. Most importantly, he helps Shaun develop effective problem solving strategies, mainly geared toward any social interactions that confuse him. Neil only steps in as a last resort, if he can sense disaster Shaun won’t be able to avoid, or if Shaun’s becoming overwhelmed and needs (or wants) him to take over.
Much like devising the best treatment strategies for their patients, the two of them excel at coming up with optimal solutions to any problems they happen to encounter. (Optimal solutions, to Neil, address the specific problem while also meeting Neil’s much broader objective: to prevent or fix any future issues before they can get too close to Shaun and teach him in the worst way—by hurting him.)
That last part is as much for him as for Shaun. (When Shaun’s hurt, Neil doesn’t react very well.)
Lately, Shaun’s been preoccupied with work—too much so, in Neil’s opinion, especially for a resident who shouldn’t have the same level of stress as an attending surgeon or an upper-level administrator. Yet Shaun takes everything on, agreeing to nearly every demand made of him, wanting to please everyone he comes across. Neil used to stay out of it, but ever since their holiday gala (and Shaun’s admission that he wished he could take on fewer ‘volunteer’ roles outside their hospital), Neil has voiced his opinion more. As a result, he’s been reminding (and often pushing) Shaun to enjoy life and say ‘no’ to others if he wants, while also reassuring him that setting aside necessary tasks for later instead of now is nowhere near the ‘abdication of responsibilities’ that Shaun loves to proclaim it is.
Perhaps most importantly when it comes to everything Neil does, Shaun listens to him. He doesn’t passively accept Neil’s suggestions or advice, he wants to know Neil’s opinion on almost every matter. It’s not out of obligation on Shaun’s part, either. He didn’t let Neil into his life to humor him, or indulge him, or to try and fool other people about their relationship. Shaun had begun letting Neil in before they began pretending to date, making space for Neil in his life in a way he’d never allowed with anyone else.
Remembering all that calms Neil’s fears and doubts, because how could he have made different decisions when it comes to their relationship? There was nothing in him that could have looked at Shaun that day in the breakroom, needing his help, and then walked away—because that day wasn’t the start of it. He’d been unable to deny Shaun even before he announced, to whomever might be listening, that they were supposedly in a relationship. That inability on Neil’s part was the reason he’d run with Shaun’s claim, suggesting they allow everyone in their lives to believe they were together.
When Neil and Shaun first met, neither of them imagined they’d become friends, let alone as close as they are now. Neither of them would have believed it possible, but life had gone on around them and it just happened. Neil’s grateful for their unexpected friendship every day and he’s going to do whatever’s necessary to keep it.
“Do not fall asleep on the couch,” the subject of his thoughts warns him.
“I’m wide awake,” Neil lies, not realizing until he opens his eyes how close he’d been to passing out; the world’s a little too hazy to explain in any other way. He can’t decide whether Shaun’s timing is a blessing or a curse, but it’ll be easier to get up now than it would have been if he’d actually fallen asleep, so he decides to be grudgingly thankful.
Shaun’s messaging someone on his phone, his posture suffering from the way he’s sitting, sunk down on the bar stool and leaning back into the counter behind him like it’s too much effort to sit upright. It’s the clearest sign Neil’s seen tonight that Shaun’s more tired than he appears. As he watches, Shaun types a quick response to the message he just read.
Whoever he’s talking to is making him smile.
Neil feels a corresponding surge of affection for all his residents, because Shaun’s most likely talking to one of them. (There’s no one else he willingly talks to this late, except Neil.)
“Are you talking to everyone?” Neil asks, referring to the ‘residents only’ group chat that Shaun loves to read aloud from. Sometimes he’ll seek Neil’s interpretation of something, or share a quip he finds amusing (Park makes a lot and they’re usually at Morgan’s expense, so he’s secretly Neil’s favorite), but most of the time Shaun just wants to tell Neil about everything going on in their friends’ lives. The residents are hilarious and terrifying in equal measure, and since it’s open knowledge that Shaun shares everything with Neil, he’s become used to the others heckling him by proxy through Shaun (which is patently unfair since he’s not even officially in their chat).
“No," Shaun tells him, “it’s only Morgan, though I suspect Alex is with her.”
Shaun doesn’t explain why he believes that, but Neil has a few guesses. He thinks back over their conversation at the airport and Morgan’s telling (non)answers. “Do you think they’re secretly dating or something? Maybe her annoyance when we brought it up was an act. To throw us off.” He doesn’t bother trying to wrap his mind around the fact that if that were the case, Morgan and Park would be doing the exact opposite of what he and Shaun are doing.
“No, I do not think they are secretly dating.”
“Then what’s up with them?” Neil’s question is half for Shaun, half for the universe. “They’re always together.”
“We are always together,” Shaun points out, practical as ever, “and we are not dating.”
“Right,” Neil mutters, reminding himself that their situation is nothing like whatever’s going on with Park and Morgan—and that’s a good thing. (It has to be, right?) “Tell her to get to bed,” he says, in an effort to change the subject, and forces himself off the couch. He takes a moment to regain his equilibrium (which Shaun thankfully doesn’t notice) and returns to the kitchen, settling against the opposite side of the island from Shaun. “I know all the residents have shifts tomorrow,” he adds, as Shaun follows the sound of his voice, turning on the bar stool to face him without looking up from his phone.
Neil spares a glance at the microwave clock which had magically stopped blinking 12 the first time Shaun came over. It now reads 10:48. Not incredibly late, but past the point he should have been in bed after a day that was mostly spent in airports. He doesn’t have to work tomorrow, but he still has a lot to get done. He’d taken the day off to unpack, run some necessary errands, and otherwise recover from his trip. Shaun had requested it off back when he did, in order to ‘ensure Neil settled back in’—he’d spoken with such an alarming (threatening?) air of efficiency that Neil’s afraid he means it.
“I already reminded Morgan that she has to work tomorrow,” Shaun says, because of course he did. (Although Neil receives 90% of his focus, Shaun’s habit of taking care of people extends to virtually everyone they know.) “Morgan says I should…” He flicks his eyes over Neil, then returns to reading directly from his phone. “…get off her case.”
Shaun had read her demand without inflection, but Neil’s mind overlays Morgan’s whining tone—the one she saves for when she wants to be as irritating as possible—because he knows she’s using it. “Tell her Melendez says go to bed.” (In hindsight, this kind of thing might be why they’re always giving him a hard time in their group chat…)
Shaun follows his instruction and not five seconds later, a new message pops up. “She says she does not have to listen to us because…” He pauses before continuing, “We are not her dads.”
Neil points at the phone, as if Morgan can see (and hear) him. “It’s worse, Reznick. I’m your boss.”
Shaun relays the message before looking back at Neil. “You like to remind us of that.”
“Yes, I do,” Neil agrees, “for all the good it does me.”
“We respect you,” Shaun assures him, so seriously that Neil has to smile. Shaun flips his phone around to show him Morgan’s response. “She says you are not her boss. Technically.”
“Ask her if she wants to test me on that. Technically.”
Shaun taps away on his phone, then reports, “She said she apologizes profusely.”
Neil laughs at that. “Think she’s being sincere?”
“Probably not,” Shaun concedes, not buying it either. “She gets disagreeable and combative when she’s tired. I’m not sure if she’s aware of that.” He seems to be debating his next course of action as he writes another message. “I should inform her that she is not effectively arguing her case.”
“Should you?” Neil asks skeptically, but the warning’s too late because Shaun’s already hitting send.
…Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe Morgan will take it as the constructive criticism Shaun intends —
— or not, judging by the flurry of texts Shaun receives within the next ten-second span. Shaun reads them silently, with a painful slowness that sets Neil increasingly on edge. The only indication that Shaun’s becoming more uncomfortable is the tightening of his shoulders the more he reads.
After staying silent for an entire minute, Neil can’t take it anymore. “Well?” He waves impatiently at the phone where Shaun is typing too briskly to mean anything good. “What’d she say?”
Shaun sends his text, then sets his phone down. “She proved that my assessment of her is accurate.” When he pushes his phone further away from himself, Neil takes notice.
Shaun thinks Morgan proved him right in his assessment…that she’s disagreeable and combative. Neil waits a beat, then two, then— “Shaun, you didn’t tell her that, did you?”
“I am trying to help her.” Shaun seems affronted. “I am not going to lie to her.”
Neil takes his phone from the charger and starts writing his own message to Morgan.
“She claims that I am wrong, which isn’t unexpected, since she’s being disagreeable and combative.” Shaun sounds both tired and resigned. “I don’t want to fight with her anymore.”
“I know,” Neil murmurs, because he hadn’t needed Shaun to tell him that. He hits send on his text to his former resident: Thanks again for picking us up from the airport. The gratitude should mollify her somewhat before his next message, a simple (and pointed), Goodnight, Morgan.
Once the flurry of notifications stop arriving, Shaun’s phone dims and falls dark. It takes Morgan over a minute to send a politely-worded response to Neil, wishing him and Shaun a good night, and reminding them to enjoy their day off tomorrow. Neil wonders if she grit her teeth the entire time she wrote it, still annoyed with Shaun but no longer welcome to argue with him about it. But…no. That’s not really the way things are anymore.
Morgan might push her luck with Neil a lot of the time, might enjoying complaining about how ‘annoyingly in love’ he and Shaun are, but it’s been a long time (Neil can’t remember how long) since she’s said something truly hurtful to Shaun, even in that thoughtless way she has where she’ll speak before thinking it through. At first, Neil knew a lot of it was because of him, that his relationship with Shaun made her consider her words and actions more carefully. But considering how long it’s been since Neil had to remind her about this kind of thing, he doesn’t think her concern is for him anymore.
Now, he thinks it’s for Shaun.
Shaun’s phone lights up again after a two-minute lull in messages. He glances at Neil, gauging his reaction, and Neil tips his head for him to pick it up, because he has no worry about anything Morgan might be saying now. (In fact, he’d wager it’s something Shaun probably should see.)
Shaun moves with unusual slowness, driven by tiredness or reluctance or some combination of the two, but when he reads the new message, the sides of his mouth turn up into a barely-there smile. “Morgan says goodnight and that she is sorry.”
No, her concern definitely isn’t for Neil anymore.
“You were pointing out her flaws and she’s the one apologizing to you about the ensuing argument?” Neil shakes his head in wonder. “You’re good, Murphy, I’ll give you that.”
“It was not me,” Shaun insists, reading Morgan’s apology again before he looks up at Neil. “I could not get her to stop.” His words sound so lost that Neil rounds the island before he’s consciously aware of what he’s doing. He tries to cover it by focusing on his phone again, mindlessly swiping away notifications from an app he doesn’t recognize.
“That’s the point, right?” Neil asks without looking up, though he’s not registering anything he’s reading. He tries to keep his words light, even while everything in him feels stretched thin, almost painful again. “I get people to leave you alone. Besides, while I might have been the catalyst, I’m not the reason she stopped.” All Neil’s message had done was remind her that Shaun sometimes reacts differently to things than she expects. It’s a fact which occasionally slips her mind, especially when she’s texting Shaun and not interacting with him in person, where she can see his reaction and know when she’s going too far. “Morgan doesn’t actually want to upset you.”
“No,” Shaun easily agrees, “she does not.” He flips his phone over so the screen is face down, a clear sign he’s done with it for now. “Thank you.”
Neil sends him the sternest look he can manage this late at night, as tired as he is. They’ve talked at length about this before. His resident has a habit of thanking him for all manner of things, and since it makes Shaun happy, Neil rarely protests anymore…not unless he knows he doesn’t deserve it, and this is one of those times. Neil’s simply being a decent human being and Shaun shouldn’t have to thank him (or anyone) for that—it claws at him that Shaun had once learned he did.
So once again, he tells Shaun, “You don’t have to thank me for doing exactly what we agreed upon.”
“No. I don’t mean it…that way.” Shaun draws his mouth into a thin line. “Would you have texted Morgan if we were not pretending to date each other?”
Neil’s surprised into setting his phone down, forgetting that he was using it to cover his automatic (and inescapable) reaction of moving closer to Shaun whenever he’s concerned about him. “Of course I would have.”
“Tonight is not the first time you have done that kind of thing,” Shaun reminds him. “That is why I’m thanking you. Not for being my fake partner. For being my real friend.”
No one, no one, can make Neil feel an emotional punch the way Shaun can, and he’s never been sure why. Maybe it’s his earnestness, or his honesty, or just the fact that he’s Shaun.
Neil holds onto the edge of the counter so he doesn’t accidentally touch him. “Murphy, you don’t have to thank me for being your friend.”
The bar stools at the counter aren’t unusually high, which means Shaun has to tilt his head slightly to look up at Neil (who somehow got that close without realizing it). “I like to thank you.”
“I know.”
“You don’t like it,” Shaun murmurs, eyes back on the counter, looking somewhere near where Neil’s hands are. “So I try to do it…less.”
That…Neil had not known. He’s struck by the urge to…he’s not even sure. Lean in closer to Shaun. Let him know that it’s okay. That even if Neil doesn’t like it, he understands, and it’s okay. “Listen to me.” He has to clear his throat before he goes on. “You don’t have to do it less.”
“You don’t like it,” Shaun stubbornly repeats.
“It’s not that, exactly,” Neil tries to explain, because what he actually hates is the reason Shaun thanks him—having people he can count on is still new for Shaun, and sometimes (usually when he’s scared or upset or hurt) he holds on too tightly. Kindness and affection had been so rare in his early life that he’d learned to be grateful for the most minor of things. Neil’s long-suspected that, on some level, Shaun worries that if he doesn’t appreciate people enough, show them or tell them enough, they'll vanish like the rest, and he’ll be alone again. With no one. The knowledge burns in Neil, reminding him how completely alone Shaun’s been for most of his life.
To Neil, it’s always felt wrong to hear Shaun thank him for things that he wants to do. That he couldn’t stop doing even if he tried.
“It is exactly that,” Shaun’s arguing, frustration bleeding into his tone. “You do not like it. You have told me you do not like it.”
Neil shakes his head. “I want to help you, Shaun, so when you thank me, sometimes it feels like… I feel like you think it’s a chore for me. And it’s not.” He grips the counter more tightly. “You have to know it’s not.”
“I know it’s not,” Shaun promises, sliding his hand down the edge of the counter, and then over Neil’s. The request is obvious enough and Neil makes a conscious effort to let go. He almost laughs when he remembers Shaun’s suggested experiment, six months earlier, to record how Neil reacted whenever he was touched. (He can only imagine what the data reveals by now.)
Neil tends to forget how easily tiredness and stress can shake his usually tight rein on his emotions. After a few moments, he turns his hand over and Shaun doesn’t hesitate at the invitation, grasping Neil’s hand with a firmness that’s incredibly reassuring. (It’s easier when Shaun initiates contact between them because it means Neil can’t make a mistake when he reciprocates.)
“Shaun.” He waits for the younger man to glance up from where he’s staring at their hands. “You don’t have to thank anyone for caring about you. That’s what family and friends do…or what they should do, anyway.”
“A lot of people… They do not…” Shaun trails off, but Neil hears what he isn’t saying. Shaun’s talking about his family. The foster families. Every ‘friend’ who was everything except one.
“I understand,” Neil tells him, and Shaun drops his shoulders in relief, probably at not having to come up with the words. “When you thank me for doing something that no one else in my life would notice, or for the kind of thing they’d just expect me to do…it reminds me that you should have had more. You should have gotten more from the people in your life and you didn’t and that is what I don’t like. What I hate.” Shaun’s fingers close around his hand and Neil realizes he’s getting worked up again. (How is Shaun the one comforting him about this, when it should be the other way around?) Neil focuses on their point of contact before continuing, “In that sense, it really has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. My feelings don’t mean you have to stop, either, Shaun. You like to let people know that you appreciate them, and it makes you feel better, so it will always be fine with me.”
“It upsets you,” Shaun says simply, like nothing else Neil had said is as important as that fact. “So I will still try to do it less.”
Neil shuts his eyes and lets go of Shaun’s hand, but only so he can wrap an arm around his shoulders, instead. Shaun exhales, leaning into him like he always does, and Neil wonders how it ever crossed his mind that they might hug too much. Of course they don’t. (If they did, he’d surely be tired of it by now, or want to do it less often, or Shaun would have voiced some protest. But none of those things are true.)
“You don’t have to thank me less,” Neil tells him again, needing Shaun to believe him. “Not if you want to do it and it makes you happy. Just…accept that I tend to have an irrational reaction to it, which is usually out of my control.”
Shaun considers his offer, then wraps an arm around his waist in return. “I can accept that. I’m used to your irrational reactions.”
Neil laughs, feeling the emotional weight of their conversation lessen. “I’m not irrational that often, am I?”
“You are irrational a fair amount of the time,” Shaun informs him, an edge of humor to it.
“Guess I can’t really argue with that,” Neil admits, affectionately pulling Shaun closer in a reflex that he immediately stops once he realizes what he’s doing—he’s not supposed to hold on that tightly. Before he can apologize, Shaun tightens his own arm around him instead of pulling away.
“I do not believe you.” Shaun’s unconvinced by Neil’s claim (for good reason). “You can argue anything.”
“No,” Neil insists, finding it almost impossible to keep a straight face. “I can’t.”
Shaun realizes what he’s doing after a few seconds and huffs in exasperation that’s on the verge of laughter. And still, because he’s Shaun, he can’t help shooting right back, “Yes, you can.”
“I can,” Neil relents, because they’ll go back and forth forever if he lets them. “And don’t act like you don’t argue just as much as I do.”
“I do not argue,” Shaun instantly argues. “I inform people when they are wrong.”
“Most people would call that arguing.”
“I am not most people.”
“No, you sure aren’t,” Neil agrees, letting warmth suffuse his words so Shaun can’t mistake his meaning for anything else.
“You are not most people, either.”
Shaun’s said that before, so Neil’s pretty sure what he means, but sometimes he likes the reassurance (if only for his own peace of mind). “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes.” Shaun smiles at him. “As long as you are…you, it is always a good thing.”
Neil doesn’t have a response to that, and Shaun seems to understand, letting the quiet stand between them. Neil lets his gaze wander around the kitchen, passing over the microwave clock, and he wonders how it’s already past 11 when it feels like he got home five minutes ago.
“I’m sure you want to go to bed,” Neil says. “You must be tired, you worked today.” Not only that, but Shaun had voluntarily stayed past his shift’s end when he learned Neil’s flight home would be significantly delayed.
Shaun doesn’t say anything, which could mean he either agrees or disagrees. Neil can’t tell for once, and it bothers him more than it should. He decides to err on the side of caution, removing his arm from around Shaun’s shoulders, and after a few eternally long seconds, Shaun follows suit by dropping his arm from around Neil’s waist.
It’s probably so Neil can move away. And he should, right now, because Shaun can’t get to bed if Neil’s literally holding him prisoner in their kitch—
The shock to his system is so great that he involuntarily does step back.
No. No no no, he’s tired, he can’t think —
“No,” Shaun tells him, sitting up straighter.
It’s a desperate struggle for Neil to process that Shaun’s refuting what he’d said and not somehow reading his spiraling thoughts. “No…you’re not tired?”
Shaun looks at him for a long moment, then backtracks. “Yes, I am tired.”
Neil blinks, not understanding. “Then why did you say you weren’t?”
“I did not say that,” Shaun claims, which Neil realizes is technically true.
They’re clearly exhausted enough that neither of them is easily following the conversation. Or thinking straight.
Worry’s gathering on Shaun’s face as he studies Neil. “You are tired.”
“I’m fine.”
Shaun folds his hands on top of the counter, then unfolds them, then presses them together again. There’s unhappiness written in every line of him. “You don’t look fine.”
Neil has no idea if it’s tiredness Shaun sees or something else that’s making him worry.
“I’m fine,” he promises again, because there’s no way he’s telling Shaun he’s reached the point of fatigue where his thoughts are turning delusional. “I just—I’m tired, like you said. I’m going to…” He desperately casts about for something that even halfway makes sense to end this conversation and ease Shaun’s concern. “Get some water!” he announces, too loudly, if Shaun’s frown is any indication.
“Water is…exciting?” Shaun asks doubtfully.
Not really. He’d only chosen it because it was something he could do in the kitchen. Where Shaun is. How can he save this? He snaps his fingers as inspiration strikes. “It’s the last thing I’m going to do before bed.”
“That still does not make it exciting,” Shaun admonishes. But…relief. It’s the only thing Neil sees on his face now. “You are going to bed?”
“Yes.”
Shaun glances at the microwave and Neil reads the time along with him. 11:16. Shaun doesn’t say it, but Neil knows what he’s thinking: that procrastinating is one of Neil’s favorite hobbies and he does a lot of it on any given day (much of it just to rile Shaun, which Neil freely admits). So Shaun’s calculating the likelihood that Neil’s task of getting water might take him until tomorrow.
He has no way of knowing that Neil’s not going to purposely drag things out tonight. If he tried, he'd probably fall asleep standing up and Shaun would berate him (yes, it’s berate, not remind, no matter what Shaun claims) until Neil offered anything to make it up to him and Shaun would say all he wanted was for Neil to take better care of himself.
It’d be a whole thing.
(They might have done it before.)
And Neil’s guard is down too much to let that scenario repeat itself tonight. He might say something he can’t take back.
“Midnight,” Neil offers. “I’ll be in bed by midnight.”
“Are you certain you can make it in time?” Shaun looks at the clock again. “That only leaves you 44 minutes.”
Neil grins at the skepticism. “I think I can manage one simple task in under 44 minutes.” Quickly, so Shaun doesn’t have a chance to point out all the times he’s failed at that before, he places a hand over his heart. “And yes, I promise.”
Shaun nods, knowing that when Neil promises him something, he means it. Neil crosses the kitchen, heading for one of the middle cabinets, but Shaun clears his throat from behind him as soon as he touches the handle. “I’m not going to find glasses in this cabinet, am I?” Neil doesn’t bother opening it, turning back around to face Shaun and propping his hands on the counter behind him.
“You will not,” Shaun confirms. “I have moved the glasses to the cupboard next to the fridge.”
“Any particular reason why?”
“That’s where they belong.”
The reason sounds good enough for Neil, and it has to be because it makes sense, not because Shaun’s the one who said it. Going by their theme tonight… “You moved a lot more than the glasses, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Shaun says slowly, restrained excitement paired with a new, nervous energy.
Neil looks around at the closed drawers and cupboards. It looks like the kitchen he remembers, but he’s now aware that nothing’s the same as when he left. Shaun’s watching him, quite literally on the edge of his seat as he perches on the bar stool. He’s clearly expecting (and hoping) Neil’s reaction will be positive, but holding part of himself back just in case it’s not.
Neil hates it when Shaun holds himself back (especially if it’s because he feels some need to protect himself).
Neil swears that one day Shaun will know he never has to do that with him. Not for any reason. But that only comes with time (and actions more than words), so for now, he just smiles and waves an arm in invitation for Shaun to explain to his heart’s content.
Shaun jumps off the seat in order to give him what amounts to a tour of the kitchen’s new layout, explaining every change he’d implemented and the reasons behind it. Neil listens, but the finer details escape him as soon as Shaun moves on to the next point—Neil’s too caught up in watching him.
He loves when Shaun gets enthusiastic about something like this, a topic or idea that Neil has never given much (or any) thought to. It might even be something Neil doesn’t enjoy, but then Shaun will come along with so much passion for things that it infuses whatever he touches. Ideas. Solutions. People. Shaun’s enthusiasm illuminates everything, banishing the darkness wherever he goes, and it’s impossible for Neil to remain unaffected whenever Shaun wants to share that with him, no matter what the topic happens to be.
Tonight, it’s kitchen organization—an issue which, at best, Neil might have briefly thought about once or twice before ultimately writing it off as unimportant in the grand scheme of life.
As Shaun talks, though, Neil finds himself caring for the first time…ever. Shaun does most of the cooking whenever he’s over, so he has more right to decide where things belong in the kitchen than Neil does. (In that context, Neil’s slip-up in thinking earlier makes a lot more sense. Of course it does.)
Neil’s more than capable of cooking when necessary: if a meal’s complicated and easier to make with two people, or if Shaun’s tired or not feeling well, or if Neil just wants to do something thoughtful to make Shaun feel better after a trying day. On the whole, though, Neil doesn’t enjoy cooking the way Shaun does.
Shaun’s told him that he finds it calming to prepare meals—knowing that if he takes his time and follows directions, it will always turn out fine. Shaun’s been doing it for long enough that even if he makes a mistake due to distraction (Neil’s fault, he always claims, even if Neil’s nowhere near the kitchen), there’s almost nothing his experience hasn’t taught him how to fix. Neil understands that even if he doesn’t personally relate, so he lets Shaun cook whenever he wants to, or needs to, and Neil’s compromise is that he buys the food and helps clean up (really, he’d clean alone, but Shaun never lets him).
Shaun finishes his detailed explanation about the reorganized layout of drawers, cabinets, and countertops. Among the highlights are a new spice rack hanging inside the pantry door, a fridge organizer to stack soda cans so Neil can ‘stop throwing them haphazardly around’—Shaun’s words, not his—and about twelve new kitchen utensils that Neil has no idea how to use, but which Shaun assures him will make his life much easier.
“I charged everything to your accounts and not my own,” Shaun sums up, answering the question he knows will be coming.
Neil absently nods, even though he hadn’t been planning on asking that next. Shaun’s put in far too much time and effort to have decided to do all this one random evening while stopping by to water the plants. “How long have you wanted to reorganize the kitchen, Murphy?”
Shaun doesn’t seem at all surprised to be called out, perhaps expecting Neil to do it. “Since the first time I cooked a meal here.”
Neil does the math. “That was last spring. Eleven months ago.”
“Yes,” Shaun nods, and Neil can hardly believe it. Sometimes it feels like he’s been friends with Shaun for only a few weeks, and other times it feels like it’s been…forever.
They’d first begun spending time together outside of work because of their patients. It had been one of those endless nights, brainstorming treatment strategies after both their shifts ended, that Neil decided he couldn’t stay in the hospital another minute. He hadn’t been ready to stop working, though, so he’d asked Shaun if he wanted to continue back at his place, which was closer than Shaun’s, with the added benefit of a guest bed and bath. Shaun hadn’t needed to think about it, he’d just agreed like it was something they’d always done. Neil’s apartment was a lot more comfortable than the hospital, so after that night, they almost never stayed late to discuss patients—they did it at Neil’s place, instead.
From there, it hadn’t been a huge leap for their conversations to stray away from patients, then away from work entirely. They began discussing their hobbies and interests, and started pursuing some of them together—whether that was going to a new museum exhibit, or staying in and putting on a game or movie to unwind. It had become second nature for Neil to start sharing more personal things about himself, especially when Shaun began doing the same. Eventually, they stopped spending time together because of work, and just did it because they wanted to.
Early on, they usually got take-out when they were together, because it was easy and Neil was never a huge fan of cooking. Shaun had to offer on three separate occasions before Neil reluctantly let him make dinner (he’d felt guilty about having his resident cook for him when he didn’t contribute much of anything to the process). The first night Shaun had cooked—it was a Thursday, so he’d been making pasta—Neil had made a few genuine (if halfhearted) attempts to help before Shaun decisively kicked him out of the kitchen and reassured him that he never had to help if he didn’t want to. He’d informed Neil that he was perfectly fine cooking alone, often even preferred it, and he refused to let Neil ‘annoy him’ to the point that it caused him to ruin dinner.
It had taken Neil about ten seconds to get over the rebuke and accept Shaun’s sincerity for what it was; he hasn’t felt guilty about it since.
(Though maybe he should feel bad that Shaun’s been dissatisfied with the kitchen for so long, especially considering how many meals he’s cooked for them in it.)
“Let’s make sure I’ve got this right,” Neil says, “you’ve wanted to rearrange the kitchen for almost a year?”
“Yes. Your method of organization was inefficient.” Shaun’s standing at the island, directly across from where Neil’s still in front of the cabinet that used to hold his glasses. Shaun looks around with disapproval at whatever he sees in his memories. “It takes me, on average, three minutes longer to cook a meal here than at my apartment.”
From his tone, Neil figures that’s unacceptable. “That much longer, huh?”
“Yes, I agree that it was unacceptable.”
Neil doesn’t bother pointing out he’d said no such thing. “What made it take longer?”
“Unnecessary walking,” Shaun explains. “Nothing was where it should have been, so I had to walk more.”
“The kitchen at your place is smaller,” Neil points out. “You have to walk less just due to that.”
“I accounted for that obvious discrepancy.” It sounds suspiciously like Shaun wants to roll his eyes at him. “Each meal still took me approximately three minutes longer to prepare than it should have in a kitchen this size.”
“I’m sorry that cooking here cost you so much of your valuable time.”
“It’s alright,” Shaun says, magnanimously. His voice turns curious when he adds, “I could never figure out what organizational method you used.”
“Organizational method?” Neil scoffs. “Before tonight, I didn’t even know those existed for kitchens.” Well, maybe he did, but it’s not like he cared enough to implement one.
“So your method was non-existent,” Shaun says thoughtfully, before nodding. “That fits with how terrible it was.”
“You should be nicer to me,” Neil warns.
“Nicer.” Shaun hums in consideration, eyes going from the fridge, to the stove, then back to Neil. “Like cooking you dinner?”
“Okay, fine,” Neil relents, heaving a sigh so Shaun will know the effort it takes to be that generous. “You’re forgiven for insulting my kitchen.”
“It is a perfectly functional kitchen,” Shaun soothes. “It just needs to be cared for by someone competent.”
“It is,” Neil counters, knowing exactly what Shaun’s trying to do.
Shaun’s the one scoffing now. “You did not even have an organizational meth–”
“I’m referring to you,” Neil interrupts, with a rush of satisfaction at how flustered that makes Shaun.
“Oh. You were—” Shaun’s not thrown for long, quickly regrouping. “Yes, I am the much better option, given that I know how to optimize the functionality of any room.”
“It’s hardly my fault how the kitchen originally turned out.” Neil feels like he should attempt some defense, even if he’s barely convincing himself. “The movers stacked boxes around randomly and I put things away in the order I happened to open them. Once a drawer or cabinet was full, I moved on to the next. I tried to keep similar items together…kind of?…as best I could.”
“You had two separate cabinets which were half dishes and half other kitchen supplies,” Shaun accuses.
“I said I tried, Shaun. Kind of. Not that I accomplished my goal.” Shaun’s staring at him with no small amount of judgement. “I wasn’t going to rearrange and do all that work again!”
“You cannot do ‘work’ again if you never did it the first time around.”
Neil can’t help laughing, curious about what level of horrified Shaun will be after his next admission. “Want to know how long it took me to get everything put away in here?”
“No.” Shaun’s understandably wary. “I do not think I do.” When Neil shrugs and obligingly keeps his mouth shut, Shaun manages to wait four seconds before he caves. “Okay, I want to know.”
Neil grins at him. “Six months.”
“Six months?” Shaun all but gasps.
“I happened to think that was impressive—it didn’t take me a full year like I’d estimated it would. It only took me half of one.”
Shaun’s extrapolating from that math. “How long did it take you to unpack your entire apartment?”
“Years, plural,” Neil admits, and wonders if this next piece of information will break his resident. “I technically never finished if you consider that there are some boxes shoved in my bedroom closet that I didn’t bother unpacking.”
“You’ve lived here for six years.” Shaun’s voice pitches too high at the end there.
“Almost seven,” Neil agrees, as Shaun sets a hand on the island in what Neil can only guess is an attempt at steadying himself. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s things I don’t use and clothes I don’t wear. I’m going to go through and sort it all to donate, I just haven’t found the time.”
“You will never ‘find the time’,” Shaun gently scolds, because he expects this from Neil by now. “You have to make the time.”
“I’ll get to it,” Neil vaguely promises. “Someday.” (There are a lot of things he’s going to do someday.)
“Tomorrow is ‘someday’,” Shaun tells him.
Wait a minute. “I didn’t mean—”
“I will help you.”
Neil’s impending protests vanish at Shaun’s offer. “That might be…fine,” he cautiously allows, as Shaun nods and picks up his phone. (He figures Shaun’s putting the task in their shared calendar—a suspicion confirmed when Neil’s phone lights up with the notification over on the counter.) “I’m right here, Shaun. We literally agreed on this three seconds ago.”
“Yes.” Shaun picks up Neil’s phone and hits ‘accept’ on the calendar invitation. “And now you cannot get out of it.”
“I think you’re supposed to wait for me to confirm it, not do it on my behalf.” He looks pointedly at his phone in Shaun’s hand. “What if I’d wanted to decline that?”
“You would have,” Shaun correctly guesses, eyes amused and bright, “not because you refuse to do it, but simply to be contrary.”
Neil’s not surprised by Shaun’s remarkably accurate assessment, nor does he care when Shaun goes back to doing who knows what on his phone.
It’s not a secret that Neil doesn’t actually care what Shaun does with any of his things, including his phone. If he did, the password wouldn’t be something Shaun has access to, let alone changes for him on a monthly basis (something about security that Neil nods along to whenever Shaun brings it up). Shaun had decided early in their friendship to take advantage of Neil’s casual attitude, increasingly emboldened when Neil never objected to anything he did, not even with his phone.
Not that Shaun does anything outlandish—it’s almost always work-related. Like adding appointments to Neil’s calendar directly through Neil’s phone, because Shaun claims that if he waited for Neil to accept every invitation or appointment sent his way, he’d ‘be waiting until their retirement’. Which is…not an entirely unrealistic timeframe, given Neil’s habit of ignoring invitations to things he doesn’t like instead of declining them. He’s done it to Marcus enough times that their boss doesn’t bother sending him the most important ones anymore—he sends them to Shaun instead, knowing they’ll be certain to end up on Neil’s calendar that way.
Neil makes it to a lot more meetings and appointments now that he and Shaun are friends. (He’s still undecided as to whether that’s a good side effect of their relationship or not.)
“Tomorrow,” Shaun says, holding out Neil’s phone in offer.
Neil takes it and taps the edge against Shaun’s hand before he can pull away. “Tomorrow,” he confirms, realizing he’s not dreading it like he thought he might. The truth is he’ll enjoy the task if Shaun’s there—not only because of his assistance, which will be leagues more productive than Neil manages on his own—but because he could do literally anything with Shaun and have fun. Even terrible, mind-numbingly boring things, like…cleaning out his closet. “I look forward to it,” he tacks on, because it surprises him to realize he does.
“You should,” Shaun says matter of factly, as he retakes his seat at the island. “I am very efficient.”
“How efficient are we talking?” Neil playfully demands. “How long did it take you to unpack everything when you moved to California?”
“Three days,” Shaun says, a bit despondently. “I had other things to do in addition to unpacking.”
Neil blinks at him a few times. “You think three days was…too long.”
“It was,” Shaun sighs, and Neil smiles when he thinks about how they’re so different in some ways, yet have this amazing ability to get along like they’re the same person, sometimes.
Catching sight of the clock in his peripheral vision reminds Neil he was supposed to be getting water before bed, and he’s probably mere moments away from Shaun reminding him of that fact. He gets a glass from the cabinet next to the fridge and doesn’t have to move again to reach the water dispenser, which is very convenient. (Maybe there’s something to this kitchen organization thing after all.)
Shaun’s watching him, so Neil motions around the room. “Why’d you wait so long to change things the way you wanted? You could have done all this a long time ago and I wouldn’t have cared.”
“You cannot reorganize someone’s entire kitchen without their permission,” Shaun says, sounding a lot like he’s reciting that oddly specific line.
It’s not difficult for Neil to figure out who Shaun must be quoting—there’s only one other person to whom this particular scenario could apply. “Is that Aaron Glassman I hear?”
Shaun’s obviously reluctant to answer, but he does, sounding both disappointed and resigned. “I recently tried to fix the numerous problems in his kitchen.”
(Neil should not be this charmed by Shaun’s description of things. He just shouldn’t.) “I take it he wasn’t a fan?”
“No. He asked me to put everything back.” Shaun’s frown deepens. “In the wrong places. I don’t enjoy cooking at his house. When I told him that, he said I never have to cook at his house if I don’t like his kitchen. He said…” His voice falls a little, taking Neil’s heart along with it. “…he never asked me to.”
Oh, Aaron. Neil presses the cold glass to his forehead. Aaron and Shaun have a strong relationship—it’s probably better right now than it’s been the entire time Neil has known Shaun—but they’ve always had this way of going at each other when one or both of them gets frustrated. Neil has no idea when his role became that of peacemaker between them, but it has, because he cannot stand when they’re at odds with each other over pain that neither of them intended to cause.
“Shaun. You know he didn’t mean it the way you heard it.”
Shaun’s fingers are tracing some pattern on the countertop that Neil can’t identify. “People always say they don’t mean things the way they sound.” His voice takes on an unusually hard edge. “Then why say it? Why not say something else instead?”
“Because none of us are perfect.” Neil moves over to the island, setting his drink down. “A lot of people don’t think too much about what they’re going to say before they say it.”
Shaun’s frustration is obvious. “You mean they don’t have to think about it because the person they’re talking to is going to understand what they mean.”
“Most of the time, yes,” Neil tells him honestly. “But you already know that.”
“Yes,” Shaun admits, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I do.”
Not only does Shaun know it, he’s always accepted it with an ease that Neil envies. Shaun doesn’t get upset over every misunderstanding—if he did, he’d barely be able to function in day-to-day life, let alone work in their intensely demanding field. Shaun has learned how to quickly work through most issues and move on. But when it comes to Aaron…sometimes he can’t. Not without talking about it first.
Most of the time, Shaun just needs to hear from someone else what he already knows (and he likes to hear it from Neil, most of all).
“Murphy.” His voice causes Shaun to stop restlessly fidgeting, though he doesn’t look anywhere near Neil’s direction. “We both know him. He didn’t mean it that way.”
Shaun doesn’t speak for another minute, eyes back on the counter when he finally relents, “Yes. I know.”
Neil wishes he could gauge his expression, but it’s impossible if Shaun won’t look at him. Despite the avoidance, he can guess what Shaun’s feeling, having seen this kind of reaction (too many times) before. “It still hurts,” Neil says, to let Shaun know he understands. “And more with Aaron than with anyone else.”
Shaun jerks his head up sharply, then seems surprised, as if it’s a reaction that happened against his will. He rubs both hands over his eyes and when he pulls them away, his expression is… Neil doesn’t know. He can’t read it. (He doesn’t think he’s ever seen it before.)
“It does,” Shaun agrees, with a hint of reluctance, probably at saying it out loud. It’s possible that the only reason Shaun’s still here, having this conversation, is because he knows Neil never pushes him on anything like this unless it’s important. Neil recognizes, with a sudden and certain clarity, that Shaun wouldn’t talk about this with anyone except him. “However, he is better at…expressing himself than he used to be. We both are.”
“I’m glad.” The simple words don’t do Neil’s true emotions justice, but there’s no clearer way for him to say it.
“I am, too,” Shaun tells him, and when he smiles, Neil knows that what he said was enough. (Or maybe being here was enough.) “I have learned not to change things in Dr. Glassman’s house without asking him first.”
“Not everyone is as open-minded about kitchen organization as I am, Shaun.”
“Right.” Shaun seems unsure what Neil’s getting at. “Dr. Glassman is not.”
“I was more thinking of you.”
“There is a right way to do things,” Shaun says coolly, “and a wrong way.” It’s clear from his inflection which side he believes Neil and Aaron (and probably almost everyone else in the world) usually fall on.
“There is no ‘correct’ way to organize a room,” Neil reminds him. “It depends upon a person’s preferences. You like things a certain way, and so does Aaron.” Shaun nods and Neil prompts, “If he went to your apartment and rearranged things…”
“I would be upset,” Shaun readily admits, before adding defensively, “I was trying to help him.”
“I know.” In Neil’s opinion, Aaron should have been more careful with his response, but that’s not something Neil can go back in time and fix (though it’ll be something he mentions the next time they’re alone). “Some people…don’t want that kind of help.”
“Dr. Glassman did not want mine,” Shaun agrees, and Neil pushes down the sympathetic twinge he feels on Shaun’s behalf. (It continuously baffles him why anyone would reject Shaun’s help with anything.) “I should not have fixed the problems at his house without permission. It is not my home.”
Shaun’s statement sparks a memory in Neil—two weeks earlier, Shaun had asked him about switching around some lamps in the guest bedroom and Neil had been surprised into speechlessness. Shaun wanted permission to move lamps, of all things? He’d replied with something to the effect that Shaun could do anything he wanted at Neil’s place…
Then he’d left for a week, and Shaun had taken him up on the offer, in every possible way.
“If you don’t like it,” Shaun’s saying, as he looks around the kitchen, “I will put everything back the way it was.”
Neil squints at him, able to tell it pained Shaun to even make the offer. “You mean the ‘wrong’ way?”
“Yes.” Shaun’s not dejected, not exactly, but a lot of the excitement has left him and Neil doesn’t like it at all.
“Shaun, you don’t have to put anything back.” Neil gestures around the kitchen, then at the living room and entryway for good measure. “You could have done any of this a long time ago. You didn’t have to wait until I somehow…gave you permission.”
“I have thought about changing things before, but I did not want to ask,” Shaun admits. “This is not my apartment.” The line echoes around and around in Neil’s mind. Not my apartment. Just like Aaron’s home wasn’t his, either.
Neil’s suddenly very aware that the only real home Shaun ever had was with his brother. While Shaun has lived with other people since, he’s never shared a home with any of them. Maybe all of this—with Aaron, with him—has been about trying to find one again.
“I’ve told you that you can…” No, that’s not right. “I want you to make yourself at home here.” Shaun’s focusing intently enough that Neil doesn’t have to wonder if he has his whole attention. “I know I’ve said that to you before.”
“Make yourself at home,” Shaun muses, somewhat wistfully. “That is an expression people say to be polite and make guests feel welcome. No one means it. No one wants other people to actually make themselves at home.”
A few minutes ago, Shaun had been sharing his frustration over the differences between what people said and what they meant. It’s all part of the same problem: people mistakenly saying things the wrong way, or not saying what they truly mean, or purposely not meaning what they do say. The complicated, social nuances to communication are difficult for everyone to navigate at times, so Neil can’t begin to imagine what it’s like for Shaun, but it’s clearly led him to the conclusion that there’s no real meaning behind a platitude like ‘make yourself at home’—that, in reality, most people would be upset or angry if anyone ever took them up on it.
And maybe Shaun’s right when it comes to people in general.
But he’s not right when it comes to Neil.
Nothing Neil can say is going to alter the past. It’s not going to change any of the things people have said or done to make Shaun believe what he does. Neil can’t speak for anyone else, but he refuses to let Shaun believe that he’s been making empty statements and nothing more. Shaun feeling comfortable with him, in his home, is as crucial to Neil as… Shaun feeling comfortable anywhere.
“I mean it,” Neil tells him. “I mean it when I say it to you.”
“I know,” Shaun says, readily enough that Neil’s surprised. “I knew that a long time ago.”
“Then why…” Neil trails off when the answer hits him before he can finish asking the question. “You wanted to hear me say it.”
Shaun isn’t looking at him, which proves he isn’t entirely comfortable admitting he wants that kind of thing. (Or needs that kind of thing.)
“I mean it,” Neil repeats, and when Shaun looks at him, he braces his hands on the island so he can lean slightly over it. “I. Mean. It.” Shaun isn’t moving, maybe isn’t breathing, as Neil wills him to accept this truth. “I hope you never doubt me, but even if you do, it’s never going to change that I mean it when I tell you things like that. I want you to feel at home with me. I will always want that.”
“I know that,” Shaun repeats. “I believe you. You do not have to keep—”
“No,” Neil cuts him off. “Don’t try to stop me. It’s okay to want reassurance. You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable or apologize for it, and I’ll say it as much as you need me to. Or even more than that.” He smiles once he can see that he’s getting through. “You’ll get sick of hearing my reassurance all the time. How’s that, Murphy?”
“That would be…acceptable.” Shaun’s fighting to keep his voice even and the only thing that stops Neil from pulling him closer is the kitchen island between them. (Which is good. Distance is good. He doesn’t need to touch Shaun all the time, nor would Shaun ever want such a thing.)
He ignores the cognitive dissonance when he slides a hand across to Shaun, who immediately takes it, holding onto Neil for over a minute until he’s able to compose himself enough to let go.
“It better be acceptable,” Neil says, mock-sternly, “because it’s what you’re going to get.” He stands up straight again, taking another sip of water in a futile and irrational (Shaun’s always right) attempt at swallowing his emotions along with it. “On that note, if I didn’t make it clear enough, everything you did while I was away is perfectly fine with me. I love it. All of it.”
“You are certain?” Shaun asks, with a careful glance. “I realized after I finished that I might have…done too much.”
Neil knows a test when he sees one. There’s a light in Shaun’s eyes that gives it away—not so much a teasing one, but a curiosity. A hope.
“It’s not too much,” Neil says firmly, as Shaun breathes out in response. “With me, it will never be too much. Okay?”
Shaun nods shortly and looks over the kitchen, the smile on his face saying more than any words he could have spoken right then.
Neil follows his gaze and he wonders… Shaun can get projects accomplished quicker than most, because of how meticulously he plans, but with everything he’d done…
“How long did this take you?” When Shaun doesn’t answer, Neil makes his best educated guess. “Did it take all week?”
“It did not take all week,” Shaun quickly protests the inaccuracy. “It only took five evenings.”
“Oh, is that all?” Neil asks dryly. “I know you. Despite how much work this must have been, you could have done it in less.”
“I spread it out,” Shaun reveals, then claims, “It was too much for one day.”
“And you stayed over, I hope.”
“It made sense. Your apartment is closer to the hospital.”
“It sounds to me like you lived here while I was away.”
“I did not live here,” Shaun says sharply, though Neil has completely missed why. “This is your apartment.”
Neil waits, giving Shaun time to regain himself. “It was a joke, Shaun.”
“I know that.” Shaun’s still on edge and it doesn’t make Neil feel any better, because it means he’s going about this the wrong way.
“I’m not upset.” Neil keeps his voice even, knowing his tone will reveal his emotions a lot better than his words. “I was only curious. You know that you can come over as much or as little as you want. Whether I’m here or not.” He feels slightly better when Shaun nods at that.
Shaun knows the building code, has his own key, and probably has a better rapport with the building’s staff and security than Neil does, at this point. He’s seen Shaun chat with his neighbors—in the lobby, the halls, even out on the sidewalk—and they all seem to be on a first name basis with him. Shaun even visits the cats of the rich widow who lives across the hall. Last month, she went on a two-week cruise, and although she hired someone to take care of the cats, Shaun had still brought them over to Neil’s apartment on a rotating basis so that none of them got too lonely. (Neil had wanted to argue that cats didn’t get lonely, but then he’d remembered how he felt on nights when it was just him at his apartment, and he’d let the cats ‘visit’ without protest.)
Maybe he should get a pet, like he’d been contemplating earlier.
But would it really help him feel any better on the nights Shaun’s not here? Or during the indeterminate time that comes after this, when they eventually have to stop pretending they’re in a relationship?
What is Neil’s life going to look like then?
“It was easier,” Shaun’s saying, for some reason.
“What’s easier?” Neil asks, having lost the threads of the conversation. (Maybe he could steal one of his neighbor’s cats. She has so many that she probably wouldn’t notice. Problem: while Shaun is fine with temporary visitation, he’d never go along with any permanent cat abduction plans… Neil pauses at the bizarre turn of his thoughts and wonders if he can blame it on the same exhaustion that caused his delusional thinking earlier.)
“It was easier to be here,” Shaun explains, setting his elbows on the counter so he can prop his head in his hands. “When I was here, I missed you less.”
Neil’s attention is ripped away from any and all things cats. Shaun had missed him, so he’d stayed here as much as possible to help get through the week. Neil finds that…immeasurably comforting. His apartment, his things—his presence here, despite his physical absence, had helped Shaun while he was in New York.
Instead of wallowing in his own unhappiness, Shaun had spent his time fixing things, ensuring they wouldn’t have to be separated again. He’d convinced Andrews to let them stay together. In his own way (the way he does best) Shaun had spent the entire week taking care of both of them.
Now, Neil’s going to return the favor, because he knows the difference between tired Shaun and exhausted Shaun. They’re well past the former and fast approaching the latter. (Once Shaun officially crosses that line he becomes miserable and it’s not a good thing for either of them.)
“It’s 11:45.” Neil points at the clock in case Shaun wants proof. “We’re running out of time if I’m going to keep my promise to be in bed at midnight. And you should do the same.”
“Yes.” Shaun perks up with disturbingly renewed vigor, folding his arms on the counter when he sits more upright. “We have a substantial list of tasks to accomplish tomorrow.”
“Calm down.” Neil holds up a hand in fake protest while Shaun looks distinctly unimpressed. (The tireder Shaun gets, the more he generally disapproves of…everything. Neil might love it.) “We need to get you some new hobbies, Shaun. Like relaxing. Or sleeping.”
“Relaxing is not a hobby. Nor is sleeping. No matter how many times you claim they are.” Shaun’s frowning over whatever inane disagreement between them he’s remembering.
Neil’s torn between satisfaction at knowing Shaun so well and concern at how quickly the younger man’s becoming more contentious. It’s time to stave off an impending argument (even if it’s against Neil’s very nature to do so). “Whether they’re hobbies or not, you can still enjoy them,” he reminds Shaun, who looks a bit letdown at having his argument preemptively thrown out.
“…I suppose that is true,” Shaun grudgingly allows. “I enjoy sleeping…as much as you can ‘enjoy’ the benefits of something you are not consciously aware of while it is happening.”
Neil’s almost too tired to figure out what Shaun’s doing, but he manages. “Are you arguing with me about whether the definition of ‘enjoy’ truly applies?” He doesn’t let Shaun so much as draw a breath before changing his mind. “No, better question: are we always going to turn simple conversations like this into ridiculous, pointless arguments?”
Shaun thinks about it, then nods at his own conclusion. “If we want to.”
Neil doesn’t think he’s ever heard a better answer. “That sounds good to me.” And since he lets things go about as well as Shaun… “Even if you don’t ‘enjoy’ sleeping, you can’t deny that you enjoy relaxing.” Quickly, before Shaun can come up with some new counter-argument, Neil ticks off on his fingers: “Reading, watching TV, playing games—I’ve seen you do all of these things in my presence. With enjoyment.”
“I do not…love putting off necessary things in favor of relaxing,” Shaun says, in a warning Neil doesn’t need. “But I find it more enjoyable than I did before.”
“Before what?”
Shaun’s looking at him like he should have known this. “Before you.”
Everything in Neil turns over, because he gets that in a way he never used to. “I find things a lot more enjoyable with you, too, Shaun.”
Shaun’s starting to smile. “Probably not more than I do.”
Neil sips from his water to hide his own amusement. “Do you think we could ever know for sure?”
Shaun’s only answer is to laugh, because (for once) he hadn’t wanted another debate—he only wanted to see if Neil remembered the inside joke. He slides off the bar stool and heads down the hall toward the bedrooms. Neil grabs his drink and follows, backtracking to hit a few light switches along the way after Shaun calls out a reminder.
Neil had been wrong earlier, wondering what he might need in the future. He doesn’t need to make new friends, or (dear God) spend more time with the ones he already has (after seeing them all day at work, he deserves a break). He doesn’t need a pet of any kind, and certainly not a cat, of all things.
Not unless Shaun thought he should get one—then Neil would be fine with it.
Because really…all he needs is Shaun.
Chapter 14
Notes:
We finally get to Las Vegas - it only took 2 years! Since this whole arc was created (and much of it written) long before current world events, these characters exist in a world that doesn't have a pandemic and never will - they'll be doing things differently than we would if we got sick today and took extreme precautionary measures. In this story, people just get sick, go on with life, and call it a day (does anyone remember that? It feels like so long ago...).
I really appreciate everyone still here with me, especially after the way season 3 ended. As of now, I doubt I'll be watching any future episodes, but I'll still be here writing since this is the ongoing story I most want to complete. The only impact the show has on this story is it means we're firmly in an alternate universe now...but the good news is this story has always existed in an alternate universe, so absolutely nothing will change going forward. Everything I write will remain happy, light, fun, and (mostly ;) angst-free.
To anyone who wants to express their thoughts on the show itself, please feel free to do so, especially if talking about it will help you feel better. I reply to all comments I receive, even if it takes me a little while. Thank you all, you keep me going! <3
Chapter Text
“Whose brilliant idea was it to have a conference on the surface of the sun?” Neil complains, as he steps out of the car to join Shaun and Morgan in front of their hotel. “We need to find them and hold them accountable.”
According to the extensive ‘informational briefing’ Marcus had prepared (which Neil had ignored and Shaun had read aloud on the plane), the hotel is situated roughly near, but not quite on, the Las Vegas strip. It’s actually an interconnected group of buildings which include a hotel and casino, an assortment of stores and restaurants, and a multitude of venues which have the capacity to host events of virtually any size.
The car from the airport had brought them to the hotel’s main entrance, and though there’s a large, shaded area in front of the building, it’s not enough to provide any relief from the heat—Neil knows it’s bad when even with dark sunglasses on, the world around him looks as bright as a normal, sunny day in California.
“If this were the sun,” Shaun’s telling him, “we would be dead.”
“Would we, Murphy? Really?” He looks at Shaun over the top of his sunglasses and immediately regrets it when he’s almost permanently blinded (or at least that's what it feels like before he quickly pushes the sunglasses back in place). It’s early in the afternoon and the heat’s already sweltering to the point that the twenty or so steps to the front door of the hotel seems like too far of a walk. “Here I thought the sun would be a nice place for a tropical retreat.”
Shaun’s trying not to smile (because he wants to lecture instead) and the familiar sight makes Neil feel marginally better. Marginally. “The sun does not have a solid surface,” Shaun reminds him. “If we somehow survived the unsurvivable conditions long enough to reach the sun itself, we would sink right into it.”
Morgan’s watching Shaun with a small touch of horror. “Can we not talk about horrific deaths, please? I don’t need to think about somehow…” She shudders. “…drowning in the sun.”
“You would not drown,” Shaun…corrects? “Your body would disintegrate back into individual atoms.”
“Disintegration sounds better than fiery drowning,” she allows, sounding happier about the whole ‘death by sun’ affair. “Either way, the upside is I wouldn’t have to listen to our attending complain anymore, like he has been all day so far.” Her rebuke is paired with a scathing glance at Neil as she pulls their suitcases out of the trunk. “Don’t you like anything?”
“I like plenty of things,” Neil protests. “First among them is being at home and not burning to death in the desert heat.” He passes along Shaun’s suitcase as they move further back from the curb to make room for new passengers arriving, the line of cars and taxis moving forward at a glacial pace.
It’s shortly after the standard check-in time, which probably accounts for how busy it is in front of their hotel. Or maybe it’s always like this; Neil has no idea and he hopes never to find out because he doesn’t want to travel anywhere regularly from now on, let alone Las Vegas. He has nothing against the place, but it’s definitely trying to kill him with the oppressive heat that’s making it difficult to breathe.
“See what you just did there?” Morgan pushes up her sunglasses while trying to read her phone, a near-impossible task given the brightness of the day. “It’s yet another complaint.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m providing humorous, fact-based commentary.”
Morgan leans around Neil so she can have a clear view of Shaun, wanting to commiserate with her fellow resident. “Humorous, he claims.”
“Fact-based,” Shaun echoes, in the same tone, only with the addition of faint disapproval at Neil’s comments being anything except fact-based.
Absolutely not—it’s much too early in the trip for Neil deal with this. He’s going to put a stop to it right now, and pretend like they’re both going to listen to him. “I’m invoking my authority as your boss.” He holds up a hand when Morgan seems poised to interrupt. “No ganging up on me during this trip.”
“We would never do that,” Morgan says, tossing Shaun a smirk.
“Morgan would definitely try to do that,” Shaun counters, as Morgan’s smirk slips into a scowl.
“I’ll kick you both off my team,” Neil threatens.
“I work very well with Dr. Lim,” Shaun offers, “but you would never kick me off your team.”
“You’re right,” Neil immediately relents, unwilling to keep up the joke. They’d both hate it if they weren’t on the same team anymore, and their patients would suffer for it, so Neil’s not going to let it happen. “I’m never letting anyone else have you.”
“My God,” Morgan groans. “Could you two keep it professional for longer than two minutes at a time? Is that too much to ask?”
Neil replays their conversation, but can’t figure out what Morgan took objection with. “There’s nothing unprofessional about wanting to keep my residents on my team.”
She throws her arms up in resignation. “I always forget the way you two are until I’m forced to spend extended periods of time with you together.”
“How…are we?” Shaun asks, curious.
She stares at him for a long moment. “Insufferably in love.”
Neil narrows his eyes at her (not that it has any effect behind his sunglasses). “One of these days you’re going to run out of adverbs.”
She tries to scoff at him, but it sounds a lot like laughter. “Trust me, I’m not. Also, before you try to threaten me again, I’d like to kindly remind you that you can’t kick me off your team because I’m not technically on it.”
“You don’t kindly do anything,” Neil accuses. “And don’t think I won’t reinstate you just so I can have the satisfaction of kicking you off.”
Infuriatingly, she looks right past him to Shaun. “How do you deal with him when he’s like this?”
“I usually walk away,” Shaun tells her. Then he walks away.
“Seems effective,” Morgan agrees, throwing Neil a smug grin over her shoulder as she follows Shaun to the front doors of the hotel. His former resident has some gall—acting as if she’s the one who has to put up with him. Neil has a fleeting thought of summoning another car and going right back to the airport. If the idea of abandoning his residents weren’t so abhorrent to him, he’d be seriously tempted.
Normally, Neil might take his time following them, just to make a point, but he’s feeling light-headed from the heat, so he heads for the entrance after them. He’s used to hot weather in California, but this is something else. It’s almost 100 degrees outside, at only 2 in the afternoon, and the forecast for the rest of the weekend looks exactly the same. It’s only April—it's not supposed to be this hot so soon in the year, but their trip happens to coincide with an early season heat wave that’s sweeping over most of southern Nevada.
As Neil steps into the lobby of the hotel, he lets out a sigh of relief at the rush of cold air, a welcome reprieve from the misery outside. Shaun and Morgan, for all their bluster, have stopped right inside the lobby doors to wait for him—a wise move, which Neil conveys with a meaningful look at each of them as he removes his sunglasses and clips them to the front of his shirt. Morgan returns his gaze coolly, but when he doesn’t flinch, her bravado falters and she checks her phone as an excuse to look away. Shaun, for his part, only seems worried.
Neil wonders if Shaun’s feeling anxious about their trip. He’d mostly seemed fine today, with only a few moments of unease here and there (most of them on the plane), but nothing that had overly concerned Neil. In fact, the younger man’s discomfort had been minor enough that Morgan’s usual level of annoying (she’d been about a 7 out of 10 on the plane) had served to distract Shaun from the worst of it—Shaun had been too busy arguing with her over ridiculous things to get too consumed by his travel anxiety.
(Neil’s ashamed to admit it had taken him twenty minutes into the flight to realize she was doing it on purpose—his failure to recognize the glaringly obvious is yet another sign he’s overtired from working too much lately. He’s hoping that if he plays his cards right, he can relax this weekend during the brief downtime in the finalized schedule Andrews had given them.)
Even though Shaun had been temporarily distracted on the plane, he’s always going to dislike traveling. Mostly, Shaun hates being away from home, away from the safety and familiarity of the places where he’s most comfortable. He hates being away from the people with whom he’s most comfortable. He’s typically on edge in new places and he struggles to find things that help him stay centered and calm—the only consistency he has for this trip are his two colleagues, and while Morgan might be good at distraction, she doesn’t excel at instilling calm (and certainly not with Shaun, whom she routinely clashes with, even if it’s in a friendly way, as opposed to their antagonistic relationship of months past).
Neil had known before they left that it’d be up to him to help Shaun during this trip, if necessary. Not that he’d expected (or wanted) things to be any other way—their ability to help each other through their mere presence alone was the major reason they’d both wanted to take all future trips like this together.
That said, Neil still isn’t happy about the stress this weekend’s going to cause them. If the conference weren’t so important, he would have found a way to get them both out of it. Since that hadn’t been an option, he’ll have to rely on other proven methods to help Shaun instead: close proximity, plenty of communication, and regular reassurance are the best ways to ease Shaun’s anxiety (and thus, Neil’s own).
He takes a step towards Shaun, lowering his voice when he asks, “Everything okay?”
Shaun answers with a question of his own. “Are you alright?”
“Am I alright?”
“Yes. That is what I asked.”
Neil hadn’t been expecting that, though he probably should have since Shaun’s level of concern for him has ratcheted up the past few days. Neil’s vocal protests—not complaints—about the weather have probably contributed to it today, making Shaun worry more than Neil realized. “I’m fine,” he insists. “It’s just hot. Hotter than what I’m used to.”
Shaun nods, but doesn’t seem convinced, and Neil doesn’t want to push it right now when he’s still feeling out of sorts—not to mention that if Shaun’s actually upset for other reasons, he won’t want to talk about it until they're alone.
“This place is gorgeous,” Morgan announces, providing an excellent distraction for all of them. Neil turns to take in the opulent lobby along with her and Shaun. There are a number of people milling around, many of them heading to check in, and Neil hopes they don’t run into anyone he knows before they’ve managed to check in themselves. He doesn’t want to deal with anyone before the opening dinner tonight, if he can help it.
This particular casino resort isn’t new (he has Shaun to thank for that information), but everything about the lobby looks as if the grand opening was this morning. The wood is freshly polished, the floors beautifully waxed, and every shiny surface positively gleams. The over-sized lobby is home to dozens of lush green plants that soften every corner and separate semi-private sitting areas, all of which consist of richly-upholstered couches and armchairs.
There are several exits off the room, the most prominent being a large hotel gift shop which has floor to ceiling glass windows along the wall that separates it from the lobby, meant to entice shoppers. There are signs everywhere directing visitors to different banks of elevators based upon whether they’ve arrived to check in to a room or to attend a function. The far end of the lobby has a mahogany counter that runs the length of the room, with multiple stations for guests to check in, and Neil sighs when he registers that each line has five or six groups of people waiting. No part of him wants to jump into the midst of that chaos.
He switches his attention from the lines of people over to the highlight of the lobby, which is a beautiful marble fountain squarely in the middle of it. It’s made up of intricate carvings of what look like Greek and Roman gods (Shaun would know better than him) and it’s been expertly designed so that the sound of the water is a soothing background murmur. It’s also drawn the interest of seemingly every child in the room, who are excitedly gathered around it, tossing in coins left and right.
The fountain has caught Morgan’s attention, too, and she walks a few steps over to peer inside, then looks back at Neil and Shaun with what might be actual delight. “Want to make a wish?”
“The practice is illogical,” Shaun tells her, as she pulls some change out of her purse and offers quarters to both him and Neil. “Throwing coins into a fountain does not make a wish come true.”
“It does if you believe.” Morgan places all her emphasis on the last word.
“No. It doesn’t.” Shaun examines the quarter she gave him. “If you recall what I told you on the plane, all the money collected from this fountain goes to local children’s hospitals.”
“Sounds like a worthy cause to me,” Morgan says, carelessly flipping her coin towards the fountain (and it comes within inches of hitting a child who’s leaning over the edge to get a better look at the water).
Neil follows suit—though with a much better throw—then purposely waits a few seconds before tilting his head at Morgan. “It didn’t work. You’re still here.”
Her expression tells Neil that she’s debating pushing him into the fountain. “Very funny, Dr. Melendez, but I don’t for one second believe that you wished for me to disappear.”
No, he didn’t. He’d wished for the continued health and safety of all the people in his life, of which she’s included, but she doesn’t need to know that. “You can’t prove I didn’t.”
She switches her calculating gaze back and forth between him and the fountain, so Neil takes a step closer to Shaun out of an abundance of caution. (One of these days she might actually snap on him, but she wouldn’t dare go through Shaun to do it.)
“I don’t really want to know your wish,” she says haughtily, lying through her teeth. “It won't come true if you reveal what it is.”
“It is irrelevant if other people know,” Shaun chimes in, as he moves to the side of the fountain to drop in his coin, “since it will not come true either way.”
If Neil didn’t know better, he might say Morgan’s a little disappointed when she asks, “Did you even make a wish, Murphy?”
“No.” Shaun’s watching the swirling water. “If you want something, you cannot wish for it and hope the universe will magically give it to you. You have to make it happen on your own.”
His explanation stalls whatever Morgan had been about to say next. She darts a glance at Neil, then shrugs it off. “I suppose that’s good advice, all things considered.”
Neil wonders if Shaun ever made wishes as a child…and if none of them coming true had made him learn the futility of it. “You can do both,” Neil offers. “Make the wish, and then work as hard as you can to make it come true.”
Shaun turns back to him. “You believe in wishing for things.” It’s not a question because he already knows the answer. “The same way you believe in luck.”
Neil nods anyways. “I do. I also believe in hope, and I believe in faith. But most importantly, just like you, I believe in the ability of people to make wishes come true—both their own and others’. It’s not quite the same as thinking the universe is the driving force, but…we’re part of the universe, aren’t we? So maybe there is something magical about it, in the end.”
Shaun thinks that over, then softly smiles at him. “I like the way you see the world.”
Neil takes a moment to appreciate the purity of his compliment. “Thank you, Shaun.” He moves a step closer, brushing his fingers over Shaun’s wrist. “I like the way you see the world, too.”
“Well, apparently my wish didn’t come true,” Morgan’s whining in the background. “I wished that you two would spare me this weekend, and now I’m realizing how naïve I was to waste a wish on the impossible.”
After a charged moment that Shaun draws out (Neil suspects on purpose) he turns to Morgan and concludes, “You are lying.”
“Am I?” She’s trying to smirk, but she’s failing.
“You just stated you would not reveal a wish because it would not come true,” Shaun says. “Therefore, you would not have told us your real wish.”
“It was my wish.” She crosses her arms defensively, more on guard than before. “I just…realized it would never happen, so it didn’t matter if I told you or not.”
“You complain that we’re too in love,” Shaun tells her, as Morgan starts shaking her head, “but you like that we are in a relationship.”
“I have no idea what you’re—”
“You asked me last week if you could be in our wedding,” Shaun says, right over her.
What? What? Neil looks between them incredulously. Morgan doesn’t deny Shaun’s accusation, though she’s suddenly very interested in the carvings on the fountain. Shaun, meanwhile, appears overly pleased at what he knows was a winning shot.
“You what?” Neil has no idea what’s going on. “What wedding?”
Morgan exhales so dramatically that it must hurt. “Don’t bother with the act,” she says, reading Neil’s surprise all wrong, “everyone knows it’s inevitable.”
“They do?” He looks at Shaun for help, amazed that his resident doesn’t seem at all fazed by Morgan’s claim.
“That is what they believe,” Shaun confirms for him.
“Was anyone going to tell me about it?” He’s trying not to let his irritation show, but it’s difficult when it sounds like his residents have been plotting some secret wedding behind his back.
Why does everyone want them to get married so badly? Audrey brought it up last month, and now Morgan has revealed it’s been an ongoing discussion among their colleagues for some time…?
“You two are practically married by now, anyways,” Morgan’s saying, in answer to Neil’s question, “so it hardly matters when you actually get around to it.”
“It does matter,” Shaun insists, with a seriousness that reveals the distinction is important to him. “We are not married.”
“Not officially,” she concedes, “not yet, but in every other way?” She’s settling in now, convinced of her own certainty. “I’ve never seen two people more ‘married’ than you.”
Neil shifts his stance, risking a glance at Shaun to see what he thinks about her statement, but Shaun’s attention is completely focused on Morgan, his expression neutral to the point of unreadable.
“You just admitted that we are not married,” Shaun tells her, “which renders any argument you are trying to make invalid.”
Morgan’s about to argue further, so Neil jumps in to steer the conversation back to the important point here. “Why would you want to be in—” he almost trips over his next words, but forces himself to say them clearly, “—our wedding, anyways? You’re always complaining about how our relationship drives you crazy. Unless…” He looks at her more closely. “Shaun was right and you’re putting on a front?”
“Well.” She folds her arms tighter. “I might exaggerate…a little. Sometimes. I’m not opposed to people being happy, but that doesn’t mean I want to see it all the time.” She strangely counters her own point when she switches gears and sighs, “Though I know you two can’t help it. You don’t even seem to notice. That’s the only reason you’re tolerable, by the way. If you were one of those obnoxious couples—the kind who like to purposely show off how in love they are?—everyone would hate you.”
There’s nothing Neil can say to that, and Morgan has no idea how dangerously close she is to hitting upon the actual truth. He and Shaun had talked about this a while ago and decided that they wouldn’t try to change their behavior in public to ‘prove’ they were in a relationship. The few times they’d tried had gone terribly and roused more suspicion than if they just acted normally. Neil had never understood it, because he and Shaun aren’t overly affectionate in any attention-catching ways—and why would they be? They’re friends. Close friends, yes, and sometimes Neil forgets what current role he’s supposed to be playing, but…
It must go back to what he’s always reminding himself: people see what they want to see. For some reason, going back much further than Neil realized, people had wanted to see him and Shaun as a couple—so that’s what they saw. And then he and Shaun had decided to confirm it, so he can’t exactly blame people now for believing something they’ve been told is true.
“…besides, I know you two.” Morgan’s still trying to answer his question about why she’d want to be in their wedding. “You’ll include everyone and I guess…” Her next words come in a rush, “I just don’t want to be left out.” It sounds like something that’s happened to her before, too many times.
“We would never leave you out,” Shaun says, forcefully enough that Morgan’s eyes widen in surprise. Because if anyone knows about being left out, it’s Shaun. The thought strikes Neil with what feels like actual pain, and he shifts closer to Shaun (it’s automatic and inescapable). That’s when Shaun reminds Morgan of what sounds like a promise: “I told you that.”
Neil glances at him in surprise. “You did?” How in depth had his residents discussed this, exactly? “Don’t I get a say about who would be in this hypothetical wedding?” At least he got an adjective in there to prove this isn’t actually happening (…he doesn’t think).
“Of course you get a say,” Shaun reassures him, then turns to Morgan. “Neil would never leave you out.”
“It doesn’t bode well for me that you like telling the truth so much,” Neil mutters, because he can’t exactly argue Shaun’s claim. They’ve never discussed this specific scenario, but Shaun knows him, knows there’s no world where Neil would purposely exclude anyone from an important event in his—their?—lives.
Worst of all is that Shaun has no reservations about sharing Neil’s most guarded secrets with everyone. His reputation has most likely taken a real hit over the past year—everyone seems to know he cares about them now.
He places the blame for that solely on Shaun Murphy.
“I’d have to check if I was free, of course.” Morgan has rallied remarkably quickly, her earlier self-doubt vanishing after Shaun’s promise regarding an imaginary wedding. “Though you two getting married? Who could miss that?” After a minute of internal debate, she declares (as if they’ve won the gift of her company), “Okay, you’d probably edge out any competition over the date. Barely.”
Neil has the sudden urge to push her into the fountain (is this how she usually feels talking to him?). “Did you just ask to be in our wedding, and after we agreed, are now pretending like you might have something better to do that day?” Why is he talking about this as if it’s something that’s actually going to happen? “A day which hasn’t even been set, by the way.”
“I told you that you’d edge out the competition!”
“Barely,” Shaun reminds her.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” she brazenly lies. “I value honesty above everything else.” She’s moving on before Neil can examine the mind-bending irony in her statements. “Have you two thought about wedding planners? Because I’d like to offer my expertise.”
“You have no expertise,” Shaun says. “You are not a wedding planner.”
“It can’t be that hard,” she shrugs off his valid criticism. “I would make it an affair to remember.”
Neil has no doubt. He leans closer to Shaun, purely for dramatic effect (they’re already close enough that Shaun would hear him no matter the volume), and loudly whispers, “There would be so much glitter.”
“Glitter everywhere!” Morgan cheers, having heard his deliberate stage whisper. “Your wish is my command.”
“Do not throw a coin in the fountain,” Shaun pleads, as Neil looks at him and then bursts out laughing.
“Since we’re all friends,” Morgan (generously?) offers, “I’d only charge you 90% of my usual rate.”
“You don’t have a usual rate,” Shaun tells her, then repeats, “You are not a wedding planner.”
“I could be,” she insists, “I’d be amazing at it.”
“I feel like this has turned into your fantasy of how wonderfully you’d plan a wedding, and no longer has anything to do with us,” Neil says dryly. He should probably remind her this is a pointless endeavor, right? “Especially since there is no wedding.”
“Eh, details,” she insists, as heedless of his criticism as she was Shaun’s. “There’ll be one eventually.”
From the way she’s talking, she’s clearly imagined it. The others must have, too, if they’ve been discussing it. Has everyone they know envisioned how this wedding would play out?
His wedding.
To Shaun.
And if Shaun’s been talking about it with them…that means he must have pictured it, too.
Had Shaun imagined it from a purely practical standpoint? Getting married for financial reasons like saving money on expenses, insurance, or taxes? Or for legal and medical protection if something happened to either of them? (Shaun’s the only person Neil ever wants making decisions for him, if it comes to that, and he wouldn’t want anyone besides him making them for Shaun, either.) Or maybe Shaun had been thinking about the numerous health benefits. Study after study has found that married couples enjoy better overall health and emotional well-being.
Knowing Shaun, he would list all of those as valid reasons to get married, but none would ever be a reason for him. Shaun had told Neil that he’d only marry someone for love. (Despite recognizing all of the benefits to marriage, Neil happens to agree with him—love is the only reason that matters.)
“One of us should have gone to stand in line,” Shaun’s saying, as Neil comes back to reality to find a busload of tourists wearing matching shirts have just arrived and are swarming the lobby, adding about 15 people to every check-in line.
“This is your fault,” Neil accuses Morgan. “If you hadn’t started talking about weddings—”
“It’s hardly my fault that you haven’t gotten married yet!” she snaps. “That’s on you. And Murphy.”
Shaun’s working through her reasoning. “If we were married…”
“Then I wouldn’t have been talking about your future wedding, would I?” She raises her eyebrows and Neil realizes (appalled) that he can’t argue her logic. “We’d already be checked in and upstairs by now. I hope you’re both happy.”
Shaun sends Neil a bright smile. “I’m very happy.”
Neil matches it with a smile of his own, aggravation with Morgan disappearing as he nudges Shaun’s arm. “I’m happy, too.”
Morgan’s staring at them, her expression along the lines of, How is this my life? Neil recognizes it because he wears a similar one almost daily.
“I don’t think an entire roll of quarters would save me this weekend,” Morgan says mournfully, apparently to the fountain, since she’s patting the side of it. She pulls a folded hotel brochure from her pocket (Andrews had included one in each packet) and opens it to a picture of a gorgeous, artfully staged hotel room. “At least I have a ‘deluxe luxury palace’ room to look forward to.”
“They only used three over-the-top adjectives?” Neil asks, as she scowls at him. “I hope you realize that the only reason Andrews booked us rooms here is because the conference takes place in this resort. Otherwise, he’d have set us up in a Motel 6 twenty miles away. I’ve done way too much driving on business trips over the years, all due to his supposed ‘cost-saving measures’.”
Although…Marcus doesn’t really try that kind of thing nowadays. Even if he did, he’d never do it to Shaun. (Their boss has a constant desire to keep Shaun happy, which is the very least he can do considering all the things Shaun does for him and their hospital.)
“I wouldn’t mind anywhere we stayed,” Morgan insists, as if Neil and Shaun might ever believe she wouldn’t be the first and loudest to complain about ‘subpar accommodations’. “Anything our Chief of Surgery deems appropriate is obviously the best decision for—”
“Dr. Reznick,” Neil interrupts, “please remember that your naturally sycophantic tendencies have no effect on me, nor do I pass your false compliments along to Andrews.” He turns to Shaun. “How about you, Murphy? Do you pass them along?”
“I do not,” Shaun tells Morgan. “I usually stop listening when you begin complimenting Dr. Andrews. Or Dr. Glassman. Or the other administrators. Or the board—”
“I get it,” she grits out, but thankfully doesn’t continue down that avenue. Her eyes pass over the fountain, and Neil gets the feeling she’s imagining throwing herself into it. “How am I going to get through a weekend with both of you in lockstep? It’s bad enough at home. Now I have to deal with it on the road, too?”
“You wanted to come on this trip,” Neil reminds her, drawing on years of patience. “You asked to be sent.”
“My younger self was a lot more foolish.”
“It was last month,” Neil says, exasperated.
Shaun must not care about their argument, since he asks, “Do you remember when I said one of us should have been waiting in line?”
Neil’s afraid to look, but he forces himself to turn and come on — “How are the lines longer? They should be going down.”
“People keep arriving,” Shaun explains, which is a conclusion Neil probably should have been able to reach on his own.
He’s starting to feel tired again, worse than when he’d stepped out of the car into the unforgiving oven of today’s weather. Thankfully, due to the unnecessary amount of sitting areas situated around the lobby, there happens to be one right next to them. Neil props himself against the back of an unoccupied armchair, feeling Shaun’s eyes flicker over him, but his resident doesn’t say anything.
“I’m not leaving this resort until we go home,” Neil warns, lest they (read: Morgan) get any ideas about trying to drag him to events anywhere else in the city. Every meal, panel, lecture, and meeting for their conference is scheduled to take place in this complex, so he’s not leaving until they check out.
Morgan feigns surprise. “You don’t want to take in the sights?”
“I saw everything I needed to see on the walk from the car into the building. Plus, there are windows everywhere.” He gestures around the lobby, at the sunlight streaming in through too many windows to count, all of them tinted to allow visitors to see outside without being blinded by the Las Vegas sun.
“Our suite also has a balcony,” Shaun informs him. “According to Dr. Andrews’ helpful briefing, it should provide a ‘picturesque’ view.”
“Is that so?” Neil wonders whether it’s a compliment to Andrews to be impressed at the room he booked before deciding that no, it isn’t. Neil being impressed doesn’t mean he has to give Andrews any credit. “I’ve never gotten a room with a balcony from Marcus. I’ve always been lucky to get a window. He’d book me in someone’s garden shed on Airbnb if he thought he could get away with it.”
Morgan’s surprised into laughter. “Talk about cost-saving measures.”
“Oh, there’d be a cost,” Neil says archly. “It’d be their top surgeon.”
Morgan smiles at him, too sharply. “Why would Dr. Andrews quit because you were upset about sleeping in a shed?”
How could he have given her such a perfect opening? Neil closes his eyes and shakes his head, immediately snapping them open again when the motion makes the world tilt dangerously. Annoyed at the sensation, he glares at Morgan to cover it. “This is going to be the longest weekend of my life, isn’t it?”
“This weekend is going to last the same amount of time as every other weekend,” Shaun says, his comment lightening the mood between Neil and Morgan—a common side effect of his intervention).
“Then I hope it disappears as fast as weekends usually do,” Neil says, though he doesn’t have much hope of that. He lets more of his weight rest against the chair, reminding himself it’s not a good idea to lie down on one of the nearby couches, no matter how much it’s all he can think about. He looks at Morgan, figuring any further irritation she riles up in him will only serve to make him more alert. “What are my reasons for refusing to go outside, you might ask?”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” Morgan sighs.
“I will ask,” Shaun offers, beaming at him. “What are your reasons for refusing to go outside, Dr. Melendez?”
“Thank you for the inquiry, Dr. Murphy,” Neil grins at him, all warmth, while Morgan mutters something about how her life is ‘endless torment’. “The indoors has breathable air, protection from the sun, and a controlled climate that’s actually survivable.”
Morgan flips her hair like she’s tossing aside every single one of Neil’s reasons. “I find it laughable that someone who lives in California would complain about the weather being sunny and warm.”
“You have quite the knack for understatement,” Neil informs her. “Nice attempt to downplay the blinding glare while we’re being cooked alive.” Speaking of which… “How long do we have until dinner?”
“It begins at 7, so we have four hours and forty-two minutes,” Shaun supplies, taking out his phone. “There are many welcome activities planned this afternoon if you would like to see people beforehand.”
How about…no. The way Neil feels right now, that's the last thing he wants to do.
“This weekend is an amazing networking opportunity,” Morgan’s saying, as she comes over to Shaun’s other side so she can examine the list of optional activities he’s pulled up on his phone. “Every second of my schedule is packed. I only wish we had more time because I can’t fit in everything I want.”
Neil’s never been so grateful that his networking days are behind him. It’s been a long time since he sought out influential people to try and form connections that could help him in the future. He’d always hated it, even when he had to do it to keep his job secure. It never sat right with him to try and become friendly with people just because they might be able to help him in the future—he’d avoided it as much as possible even when it was ‘required’ by Andrews, Glassman, or the board. As a result, most of the connections he’s formed over the years have been real ones…or so he likes to think. (He still talks to many of them regularly—discussing the latest news in their field, consulting on cases, or just checking in with old friends.)
Over the past five years, the tide has slowly turned to the point that now it’s mostly younger doctors reaching out to Neil. It had been a strange adjustment to be on the other side of the equation, but he understands that networking is a real need in their field because it’s hard to get anywhere without connections. He’s always tried to do what he could to help others, but he decided several days ago that he wasn’t going to let this trip turn into a social convention.
It had been a long week leading up to the conference, with almost no downtime, so he’s hoping to limit his contact with others as much as possible. He already politely turned down five requests from people wanting to catch up with him this afternoon, before the official dinner/meet-and-greet this evening. Which leads him to another question…
How is he going to get through dinner when he doesn’t think he has it in him to stand in line to check in?
Which they should have done right when they arrived. (Or any of the other times Shaun reminded them that they still weren’t doing it.)
“You two go ahead,” he says, waving at the lines. “I’m going to…” He doesn’t finish the thought, circling around the chair so he can collapse into it. Morgan and Shaun come around to face him, moving their suitcases next to his to ensure they’re out of the way of traffic.
“How convenient,” Morgan remarks, “you get to sit and relax while we wait in line for an hour.”
“We will not be in line for an hour,” Shaun tells her, remarkably free of scolding. “At the rate the lines are moving, it will take between 18 and 24 minutes, depending on the line we choose.” (Neil decides he’d been wrong earlier: he doesn’t just like the way Shaun’s mind works, he loves it.)
“What’s the point of having residents if I can’t make them do the things I don’t want to do?” Neil asks Morgan, just to let her know that’s exactly what he’s doing.
“So you admit it,” she huffs. “Murphy serves as witness.”
“What’d you witness, Murphy?” Neil asks mildly.
“Morgan bothering you,” Shaun answers, his disapproval directed at Morgan in what Neil considers a welcome change.
Her glare is withering. “We’re having a conversation, Shaun.”
He doesn’t seem convinced. “I do not see the difference.”
“I should have known you’d never take my side.” She doesn’t give Shaun a chance to answer before she’s turning her laser focus back on Neil. “I hope you don’t think that I came along on this trip to be your assistant, or whatever else you—”
“Reznick,” he sighs, cutting her off mid-sentence. Something in his tone or expression gives her pause, and while he likes to think his authority has earned her automatic compliance, he wonders if she might feel sorry for him—he probably looks as resigned to this weekend as he feels, and she’s never liked arguing with someone she doesn’t think can keep up with her. (He’s heard her say as much, usually with disdain, but occasionally with pity.)
Whatever her reasons, Neil will never know, because she spins on her heel to head for the counter. “Let’s go, Murphy,” she calls over her shoulder, “you have to direct me to the shortest line.”
Shaun doesn’t follow her, instead studying Neil with concern that’s slipping towards frustration. It’s been a common look the past few days, but Neil hasn’t been able to erase it no matter what he does.
Neil nods in the direction Morgan went, then reassures Shaun, “I’ll be here.”
Shaun seems about to speak before changing his mind, abruptly turning to follow Morgan. Neil takes the opportunity to shut his eyes, trying to enjoy the cool air of the lobby and hopefully let some of the tiredness seep out of him before his residents return.
He no longer thinks it’ll be enough to make the most of any free time in his schedule this weekend. Now he’s wondering if there’s anything non-essential he can get away with skipping. He’s not above mentioning that to Shaun, either, because if anyone can get Neil out of things, it’s his ingenious resident. Either way, he’ll wait and see how he feels after tonight’s dinner before making any decisions. It’s the kind of event he excels at and hates in equal measure, but he hadn’t been dreading it until he woke up this morning—or more accurately Shaun woke him—and he could barely get out of bed.
It had been fortunate Shaun chose to stay over last night, because Neil’s alarm either didn’t go off or he turned it off while half-asleep—all he knows is he never heard it. After Shaun woke him, Neil managed to drag himself out of bed, but the day hadn’t gotten much better. Nothing could get him beyond a passable level of alertness: not a lengthy shower, not an argument with Andrews about some unannounced changes their boss had made to their itinerary, not even two cups of coffee (which usually did the trick when all else failed). He’d debated a third, but Shaun had a point about the negative side effects of excessive caffeine intake. Neil didn’t want to be jittery and on edge in addition to being exhausted—it’s an incredibly unpleasant combination.
Neil had tried to rest on the plane, even though it was only an hour flight, but there hadn’t been much opportunity between the unusually raucous passengers and Morgan’s intentional distraction of Shaun, combined with her inexplicable enthusiasm for this trip. Shaun’s presence had helped, being the usual calm in the center of Neil’s world, but even sitting next to him could only do so much when they were surrounded by the loudest airline passengers to ever exist.
He’s seriously considering a nap before dinner, because if he doesn’t shake off this feeling, it’s going to be a miserable evening. A miserable weekend. And he already has a few dozen things to take care of—the last time he checked, he had 23 new emails since their flight landed. (Not to mention almost 100 he’d set aside the past few days to deal with later.)
Someday, people are going to leave him alone. Maybe in retirement, but probably not even then…
“Neil.”
“I’m awake,” he says in reflex, realizing too late he should have said something less suspicious. He opens his eyes to find Shaun standing over him—or rather, behind the armchair, with his hands on the back of it as he looks down at Neil with that ever-present concern.
“I told you he was asleep,” Morgan’s gloating, from somewhere out of Neil’s immediate view. She remedies that by stepping up next to Shaun, peering down at Neil in a way which makes him feel uncomfortably like prey. “I was in favor of splashing you with water from the fountain, but I knew it wouldn’t be worth whatever Murphy devised as revenge.”
Yes, Neil’s reputation has definitely taken a hit if she’s more afraid of Shaun’s retaliation than his own. He’ll have to work on that, but for now his best option is to deny the truth—neither of them will be able to prove he’s lying. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Sure,” she says, obviously humoring him. “Contain your shock that Murphy was right. It took us 20 minutes to check in.”
“22,” Shaun corrects, “and that was the fastest line.”
She sighs at Shaun’s unerring accuracy, but her glance at him is fond. “It would have taken less time if the people in front of us stopped arguing about upgrades—who cares if they’re on their honeymoon?”
“Apparently not you,” Neil says, running his hands down his face and using the motion as an excuse to shut his eyes again.
“Their decision to get married doesn’t make them more deserving than me,” Morgan insists. Her voice gets further away when she asks, “Are we going upstairs? Or are we hanging out in the lobby all day?”
“I’m on my way,” Neil tells her, reluctant to get up.
“You are not moving,” he hears Shaun say from above him.
“I’m not?”
“Are you dizzy?” Shaun asks, too seriously.
“No.” Neil doesn’t open his eyes, reaching up to find where Shaun’s still propping himself on the back of the chair, then wraps his hand around Shaun’s wrist. “It was a joke, Shaun.”
“It was not funny.” Shaun sounds closer than before, which means he must be leaning down.
“So it’s just like every other joke Dr. Melendez tells,” Morgan puts in, as if Neil has no memory of all the times she’s found him hilarious.
“You.” Neil points in what is hopefully her general direction. “Don’t comment on the quality of my jokes.”
“Shaun just did!”
Right. He might as well tell her the truth. “I don’t care when he does it.”
“These double standards are outrageous, but have it your way, Dr. Melendez. I won’t comment on the quality—or lack thereof—of your jokes.”
It’s not fair that she can agree to do exactly what he asks while continuing to insult him. He forces his eyes back open, finding that Shaun is frowning towards where Morgan must be standing. “I’m waiting for you to stick up for me, Murphy.”
Shaun’s attention is instantly back on him, but there’s no amusement there—none at all. “You are not well.”
He squeezes Shaun’s wrist. “I’m okay. You know we had…a difficult week.” He doesn’t want to remember it in too much detail right now.
“Can’t argue with that,” he hears Morgan agree.
Shaun tugs at his still-captured wrist, so Neil lets go even as an unwelcome sinking feeling washes over him. Instead of pulling away entirely, Shaun slides his hand down to take Neil’s own and walks around the chair, stopping in front of it. Neil has no idea what he’s doing until Shaun looks at him expectantly, pulling on his hand, and then Neil understands. He lets his resident pull him to his feet, taking longer than usual to make sure he’s not unsteady before relinquishing Shaun’s hand.
“See? I’m perfectly fine.”
A shadow crosses Shaun’s face, so fleeting that Neil almost misses it, but it’s clear that Shaun has barely stopped himself from arguing. He doesn’t believe Neil’s claim and he’s not willing to drop the subject—he intends to have a real argument with him when they’re alone. (They can argue about anything, anywhere, but when it has to do with more personal issues, they rarely fight in public.)
Neil can’t think of anything that will preemptively help the situation. Shaun’s been looking at him the same way all week—with too much worry—and the younger man hadn’t listened any of the times Neil tried to convince him that his concern was unnecessary.
“We’re on the 31st floor,” Morgan says, as they grab their luggage and head for the elevators, getting lucky with the timing to catch one that’s letting people off in the lobby. “Hopefully our rooms are right next to each other.”
“Marcus would do that to me,” Neil says, under his breath, as he settles against the back wall of the elevator.
“What was that?” Morgan asks, having heard only enough to be suspicious (or maybe she’s always suspicious when it comes to Neil).
“He said Marcus would do that to him,” Shaun reveals, and Neil considers retaliating before deciding he might have deserved that. Besides, he doesn’t want to dig himself in any deeper with Shaun when the hole’s going to be hard enough to climb out of as it is.
Morgan’s gaze is as icy as her words when she says to Neil, “Our boss would reward you by giving you a room right next to mine? Yes, I agree.”
Thankfully, the elevator opens on their floor before Neil can make things any worse for himself with either of his residents. They follow the signs to find their rooms, and Neil swears that the hallways are nicer than some of the hotel rooms he’s stayed in over the years.
“Neither of you will appreciate the rarity of this, because you haven’t been subjected to all the terrible places Andrews has put me up in,” Neil says, as they turn a corner which leads to a dead end—their rooms must be in this section. “But I can already tell this is going to be much nicer than the forgotten supply closet he stuck me in when I went to New York last month.”
He doesn’t think Shaun’s listening until his resident comes to a sudden stop and Neil almost walks right into him. “Dr. Andrews did not book a supply closet for you. He would never do that.” Shaun waves a keycard over the scanner at their door. “It is illegal.”
“Fine, it wasn’t a real supply closet,” Neil relents, as Shaun pushes open the door, “but it might as well have been. Especially compared to the room Audrey got—you two should have seen it, it was unbelievable.” (He’s not still jealous. Definitely not. He’s irritated at their boss’s undisguised favoritism, that’s all.)
Shaun stops in the doorway, squaring his shoulders. “You exaggerate everything except the things you should exaggerate.” His voice has become tight with accusation. “Those you don’t exaggerate at all.” They’ve moved beyond frustration and concern—Shaun is upset with him now. The younger man turns and enters the room without another word, forcing Neil to prop his foot in the doorway so it doesn’t close and lock him out.
“Okaaay,” Morgan says slowly, taking a step back. “I’m going to head to my room. Which is right next door. How…lucky. For all of us.” Despite it being exactly what she wanted, it doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s lucky. She continues down the hall, swiping her keycard at the next door, and sends him a look that he might call sympathetic from anyone else before she disappears into her room.
Neil takes a fortifying breath and follows Shaun into their room, stopping right inside the door when he sees the other man waiting for him several feet away, near the end of a short hallway that opens into a larger room behind him. Neil takes his time arranging his suitcase next to Shaun’s while the hotel room door clicks shut. It’s a pointless endeavor, because he can only stall for so long.
Everything in him dreads a confrontation, because he’s not going to hold up if one happens.
“Before you start,” Neil tells him, “I get it. You think I’m downplaying how I feel, but even though it was a long week and I’m more tired than usual, I really am fine.” Shaun’s about to protest, so he adds, “I can be tired and also be fine.”
“I know,” Shaun reluctantly admits. It's a perpetual hazard of their profession. Long hours, extra shifts, too many patients—Neil would like to say he’s used to it by now, but there are days when it’s too much even for him.
“I don’t know how to convince you.” Neil’s not above begging. “But please, Shaun, I can’t argue about this. Not right now.” Not with you.
The plea is more effective than Neil hoped, Shaun’s aggravation ebbing away while he weighs the request, then relents with, “I believe that you think you are fine.” He turns to walk into the main room, adding with lingering frustration, “We should have stayed home.”
“As much as I might have enjoyed skipping this conference, we should not have stayed home just because I need a good night’s sleep. I’m perfectly capable of—” He stops short as the rest of the room comes into view.
They’re in what appears to be a living room, with no beds in sight, so there must be a connecting bedroom. It’s cheery and bright, perfectly befitting the city they’re in, and feels expensive in a way that doesn’t seem purposeful (the hardest balance to maintain). He has an absent thought that Claire would approve of the décor, splashes of color lighting up a backdrop of creams, blues, and purples that run through the furniture and window draperies.
It’s so nice, in fact, that Neil has to wonder if they’re in the wrong room—but if so, the keycard shouldn’t have worked. “This can’t be right.”
“It is our room,” Shaun assures him, having made his way over to the glass doors which lead out to the balcony. Through the windows, Neil can see a stunning view of half the Las Vegas strip in the distance. He takes a few steps closer, but has to look away when Shaun pulls open the door and sunlight streams through the open doorway instead of the tinted glass. The view will be even more spectacular at night, when everything is lit up in fluorescent, glowing color.
Shaun goes out onto the balcony, but Neil’s not crazy enough to step foot out there during the day—he learned his lesson on the walk from the car. He raises his voice so Shaun can hear him outside. “I’ve never had such a nice room in my life. Andrews would never—” Neil stops, laughing when it hits him that Andrews had chosen this room for Shaun. Neil only gets to enjoy it because he’s usually (always) Shaun-adjacent.
Shaun returns after a minute, closing the door behind him against the white-hot glare of the Las Vegas sunshine. “What would Dr. Andrews never do?”
“Book this kind of room for me. It’s for you, Shaun.” He sends his resident an arch look. “Must be nice to be loved.”
“This room is for both of us,” Shaun offers, as an explanation. “That’s probably why it’s bigger than the hotel rooms Dr. Andrews has booked for you in the past.”
Neil knows better than that. “Then explain to me why Audrey got this type of room all to herself in New York? And a few other trips, I’d like to add.” He turns in a circle to better examine their surroundings: a spacious (for a hotel) living room, dotted with several couches and chairs arranged in semi-circles. The wide balcony outside is long enough that it continues past the view from the windows. There’s no hot tub like Audrey had, which Neil actually appreciates, because the thought of climbing into boiling water right now is making him feel distressingly overheated.
On the opposite side of the room, by the short hallway through which they’d entered, is a kitchenette with a breakfast bar separating it from the rest of the room. Three elaborate gift baskets rest on top of it, which Neil guesses are from Andrews (probably only addressed to Shaun), the conference organizers, and the hotel itself—he’ll have to check if he’s right later.
“You should sit down,” Shaun says, from behind him.
Neil pulls his attention away from the suite’s amenities, reminded that while Shaun had agreed not to fight, his resident still isn’t happy with him. And that means Neil isn’t happy.
He walks over to Shaun, who’s standing next to a sofa and two armchairs situated around a large flat screen TV. Neil takes a seat on the couch and gestures for Shaun to do the same. Once upon a time, Shaun either would have ignored his request, or taken one of the chairs to keep a safe distance between them (the way he still tends to do with most people). Those days are long gone with Neil, though, and have been for a while. Shaun takes the seat right next to him on the couch, but he doesn’t get comfortable. He’s sitting straight enough that Neil hurts just to look at him.
“I’m sitting,” Neil offers, after perhaps a minute spent in silence. “Now what?”
“I did not think this far,” Shaun admits. “I thought you would tell me you didn’t need to sit.”
“I don’t want to fight with you,” Neil tells him again, “and given how tired I am, you’re probably right that I should be taking it easy.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, either,” Shaun says, turning to face him. “I want…” He tamps down on the agitation returning to his voice. “I want you to put yourself first.”
Neil’s touched by the poignant honesty of that. “Shaun…”
“Not all the time,” Shaun rushes to clarify. “I know you would never do that and I would not ask you to.” He takes a determined breath. “I want you to put yourself first when…something isn’t right.”
Neil brushes aside an ominous feeling. “What isn’t right?”
Shaun studies him for a few moments before concluding, “I don’t know how to explain it, or what it is, but something isn’t right.”
It’s vague enough that Neil doesn’t like Shaun’s assessment any better than Shaun does; even if Shaun can’t explain what he’s feeling, he has some of the best instincts Neil’s ever seen. Neil does a quick mental check, out of an abundance of caution, and confirms that nothing in him feels different, or painful, or…not right. He feels like himself, as far as he can tell.
…Aside from the unrelenting exhaustion that’s been plaguing him for days.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Shaun. Aside from being tired, I feel normal.” Though he knows that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s fine. “It’s possible I’m in the early stages of coming down with something and you’ve picked up on the tell-tale differences without consciously registering them. I assumed I’ve been rundown because of having to do more than usual, tying up loose ends at work before we left the state for three days. But if I’m getting sick, that’s another possible explanation for how tired I’ve been.”
“I have suspected as much,” Shaun admits, unhappily. “I hope you’re not getting sick.”
“I hope so, too. You’ve worried me a little, though.”
“That was not my intention.” Shaun’s voice gets lower. “I wanted you to listen to me.”
“Hey.” Neil leans into Shaun’s side and the younger man relaxes at the gesture. “I always listen to you, and I always take your concerns seriously, whether we agree or not.” Neil pauses, deciding he wants verbal agreement on that point. “You know that, right?”
Shaun lets his guard down, relaxing further. “Yes.”
“I can’t do anything about it if I’m getting sick, but I’ll make sure I get plenty of sleep the nights we’re here. I was even considering a nap if—”
“That’s a sensible idea,” Shaun breaks in.
“If I can get my work done first,” Neil finishes. Shaun’s less than thrilled with that caveat, so Neil gently reminds him, “You know there are things I have to do.”
“I know.” Shaun sits up fully so he can turn and convey his displeasure. “That does not mean I have to like it.”
Neil barely stops his grin at Shaun’s defiance. “No, it doesn’t. I’m making you a promise, though, and it goes along with what I just said about getting more sleep. For the rest of the weekend, I’ll do the best I can to…” He recalls Shaun’s exact words, “…put myself first.”
“Thank you.” Shaun folds his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “I know I have asked for something that is…difficult for you.”
“Difficult?” Neil laughs shortly, pressing his forehead to Shaun’s shoulder. “Try impossible.”
“It is not impossible,” Shaun counters. “I will help you.”
“Thank you,” Neil whispers, emotions whirling within him: warmth, affection, gratitude… Shaun can make him feel more in the span of ten seconds than he knows what to do with. Neil’s still not used to it and doesn’t know if he ever wants to be.
He turns his head, leaving it on Shaun’s shoulder as he looks over the room. Shaun’s not as tense as he was a few minutes ago, so he must be pleased with what they’ve discussed. Neil thinks about getting up to explore the rest of the suite, but…he has no motivation to do so. Being close to Shaun always makes him feel better, and for some reason today, he hasn’t been second guessing himself like usual about infringing upon Shaun’s personal space (though is it really infringing if it always seems to be welcome?).
“Are you going to fall asleep here?” Shaun asks warily.
“You’d never let me,” Neil replies, stifling a yawn.
“I might make an exception,” his resident allows. “For…extraordinary circumstances.”
“Wouldn’t that set a…what’d you call it?” Neil pretends he needs a moment to remember. “Ah yes, an ‘irresponsible precedent’.”
“You are more important than any precedent.”
Neil understands that feeling too well (it just happens to go the other way) and that’s why he’s going to ask a question Shaun won’t like. “You asked me for something,” Neil begins, “so can I ask for something in return?”
He feels Shaun nodding. “Anything.”
“If I make an effort to take better care of myself this weekend, could you try to worry about me less?”
Shaun tenses again, not liking the request any better than Neil thought he would. “Did you make an impossible request on purpose?”
Neil turns his head, murmuring into Shaun’s shoulder, “It’s not impossible.” He tries to sound as reassuring as he possibly can when he adds, “I’ll help you.”
It takes Shaun a second to place the familiar offer. “That is what I just told you.”
“It equally applies.” Neil smiles so Shaun will hear it in his words, even if he can’t see it. “So I shamelessly stole it.”
Shaun starts shaking his head, so Neil sits up in order to see his expression more clearly. Distress, anxiety, uneasiness—there’s too much of every emotion that he hates seeing from Shaun, all playing across his face.
“I cannot promise you that I will worry less,” Shaun’s warning him, not without trepidation. It almost sounds like…he’s afraid Neil will say that’s not good enough.
Neil sets an arm around his shoulders, drawing him in until Shaun’s resting fully against his side. “Then it’s a good thing I only asked you to try, isn’t it?”
Shaun falls silent, maybe rewinding their conversation. “That is what you asked,” he says, some of his tension vanishing at the realization. “Yes. I can promise I will try.”
“Okay. Good.” Neil takes out his phone. “Then I’m going to check these 3,000 emails—”
Shaun glances at the screen, which Neil tries to tilt away, but the damage is done. “You have 25.”
“Might as well be 3,000 when you factor in all the less urgent ones I set aside the past few days to answer later.”
“The real number is still nowhere close to 3,000.”
“Fine,” Neil sulks, “if you want me to be accurate, or whatever, it’s 119.” He winces at his mental estimate of how long it’s going to take him. He might have to skip that nap after all. “It feels like 3,000.”
Shaun’s about to correct him again (or so Neil imagines) when knocking on the door is followed a second later by Morgan letting herself into their room (how?!) and calling from the short entryway, “Are you two over your lover’s quarrel? I’m not playing marriage coun—” She temporarily freezes, exactly as Neil had, when she steps into the living room. “What the hell is this?!”
Neil lifts his arm just long enough for Shaun to twist around and inform her, “It’s our room.”
She takes immediate issue with that. “Room! You mean rooms, plural. There’s no bed in here.”
Neil points at the hallway on the other side of the room. “We haven’t made it to the bedroom, but it must be down that way.” He feels a growing sense of foreboding at her unannounced arrival. “How did you get in here?”
She holds up a hotel keycard. “I have a key to your room.”
Shaun nods, like that answer makes sense, and no explanation’s forthcoming from Morgan as she walks around the room, complaining every step of the way about all the things they have that her room is lacking.
When she starts scrutinizing the gift baskets, Neil loses his patience. “Why do you have a key to our room?”
“I got a copy because I knew you’d ignore me every time I knocked, and probably convince Shaun to do the same.”
Shaun’s expression doesn’t change. “I would not need convincing.”
She narrows her eyes at them, but it’s a poor attempt at hiding her amusement. “Your sense of humor has started to overlap because of how much time you spend together.”
“We were always this way,” Neil tells her. “You just never noticed.”
Morgan flips the card around in her hand. “The hotel doesn’t hand these out like candy, you know.” She’s smirking as if she has the upper hand. “Did Murphy tell you he had to give consent to let me have a copy?”
Neil turns to Shaun, trying not to laugh, because it’d really ruin the image he’s going for. “You traitor.”
“She had practical reasons.” Shaun isn’t able to hide his smile as easily as Neil. “It made sense.” To Neil’s true consternation, Shaun takes another keycard out of his pocket and holds it up. “We have a key to her room, as well.” He leans forward to set it on the low coffee table in front of them, then resettles against Neil’s side.
How co-dependent is our team, really? Neil wants to ask, but stops himself just in time. He doesn’t need Morgan’s joking answer to that. (Or Shaun’s real analysis.) Audrey had brought this up first, regarding him and Shaun, but Neil’s slowly realizing that he’s a lot closer to all of them than he’d actually been aware. And it’s…not the worst thing in the world, like he once thought it might be.
(He actually loves the way his team takes care of each other.)
“Why did you really want a key?” Neil asks Morgan, more out of curiosity than anything else. Shaun wouldn’t have described her reasons as ‘practical’ if her made-up fear of being ignored was the only one she gave. “Let me guess, is it so you could annoy us as much as possible?”
“Close,” she says, with a terrifying smile, “but no. If any of us loses our keys or leaves them in the room, it’s a lot easier to have spares than to go through the hassle at the front desk.”
“I suppose…” He’s still a little suspicious, though he’ll take her at her word.
“Also, if I don’t respond to texts or calls, or answer the door, I know one of you will want to check on me.”
“That might be a faulty assumption,” Neil tells her, but it’s obvious he’s not fooling either of his residents. They know he doesn’t care if Morgan has a key—and upon closer examination, he agrees it makes more sense to swap keys than not. “From now on, just knock, okay?”
“I did knock!”
“As you were opening the door,” Shaun points out, scrolling through his—no, that’s Neil’s phone. When had Shaun taken it? “Social protocol dictates waiting for an answer before entering.”
“If I waited for an answer,” she grits her teeth, “I’d still be out in the hall.”
“I would have answered,” Neil says solicitously, “and I would have told you, very politely, to leave us alone.”
“And that,” she waves the card just out of his reach as she strolls by the couch, “is why I wanted a key.” She stops at the balcony doors, taking in the view beyond the glass, then turns back to them. “Your rooms are much better than mine. Seeing as I only have the one.”
Neil can’t even gloat about it because he knows exactly what it’s like—finally he has someone to share his pain. “Welcome to my life, Reznick. What you’re feeling right now is what I’ve felt on every work trip I’ve taken during my time at St. Bonaventure, until this one.”
“True injustice,” she solemnly agrees, pulling open one of the balcony doors, which causes Neil to shield his eyes. “I’m taking pictures as proof of how unfairly I’ve been treated,” she declares, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind her.
“I think it’s only fair we get to see the rest of our room before she does,” Neil suggests. Shaun says nothing at his side, so Neil waits a minute before asking, “Shaun?”
“Yes.” He hands Neil back his phone. “I heard you.”
When Shaun doesn’t get up, Neil tries to shrug off the strange feeling, getting to his feet and offering his resident a hand. Shaun makes no move to take it and Neil’s uneasy feeling gets exponentially worse. “Are you…mad at me about something?”
It has the effect of startling Shaun out of whatever reverie he’s in. “What? No!” He takes the offered hand, allowing Neil to help him up, then carefully lets go. “I am not mad at you. About anything.”
“Okay, I was just checking.”
Shaun doesn’t reply to that, nor does he give any hint about where his thoughts had gone. He doesn’t owe Neil any answers about it, either, so Neil tries to let it go. They head down the unexplored hallway, finding a bathroom on the left side, and a bedroom on the right.
The bedroom is as beautiful as the living room, decorated in matching palettes of cream, blue, and purple, with strands of silver and gold highlighting the deeper tones of the bedspread and curtains. The furniture’s a little darker than at Neil’s home, ebony wood providing a contrast to the lighter walls and carpet. A door along the side wall is partially open, revealing an en suite bathroom. It means the original bathroom they found was a guest bathroom. (Morgan’s going to fly into a rage—he can’t wait.)
Shaun has followed him into the bedroom, taking it in just as Neil did, then he walks over to the bed and sits on the edge of it. That’s when it hits Neil, a slowly dawning realization—Andrews had booked this room under the assumption they’re in a relationship.
Obviously, there's only one bed.
They’ve never shared a bed before, seeing as they’re not a real couple. Shaun stays over his place pretty regularly, for all kinds of reasons—it’s easier than Neil bringing him home if they spend time together after work, and it makes sense if they have early plans, like their flight today. Shaun has never voiced any discomfort with staying at his place (he usually prefers it to going home), but there’s a big difference between sleeping in a guest bedroom and sleeping in the same bed.
He waits for Shaun to say something. Anything. But Shaun makes no comment as he continues to look around the room. He probably can’t believe Neil hadn’t thought about this ahead of time and made up some excuse to avoid this exact scenario. (Neil excels at excuses.)
They’d traveled together in the past, when they were still a lot more ‘colleagues’ than ‘friends’, and always had separate rooms. Neil had known they’d be sharing a room on this trip (and any in the future), but had assumed there would be separate beds. The alternative hadn’t crossed his mind, not even when he and Andrews discussed the arrangements—that the hospital’s policy was any ‘official’ couple at their hospital was allowed to room together, married or not, provided they filled out the paperwork.
And ‘official’ they were, in the view of the hospital, since Andrews had made them report their relationship to HR—something about how they were ‘technically boss and subordinate’ that Neil hadn’t been able to argue his way around. Marcus had taken truly sadistic glee in providing them form after form to fill out in an entirely pointless and time-consuming process. It wasn’t like they’d ever attempt anything so ridiculous as blaming St. Bonaventure if their fake relationship went awry.
That said, Neil might have balked at the part about absolving their superiors, including Marcus, from any blame or attempts to sue; he’d only grudgingly signed when Shaun ordered him to get on with it because they would be late for lunch with Aaron if he stalled any longer. (That lunch, by the way, had been Aaron’s hilarious idea to ‘congratulate them on making their relationship hospital-official’.)
In the end, Neil had been left with an overwhelming desire to never go through that process again.
(“Then you should never date another co-worker,” Shaun had suggested, ever-practical, after hearing Neil’s complaints, and Neil had emphatically agreed that was the only possible solution to his hypothetical dilemma.)
“Sorry about the bed,” Neil offers, when he can’t take the silence anymore.
Shaun stands up to look at it. “Is something wrong with it?” He gingerly sits down again, like he no longer trusts it.
“There’s only one,” Neil draws the words out, wondering how Shaun seems not to notice the issue.
“Yes…” Shaun’s starting to sound as confused as Neil feels. “I see that there is only one. This is a master suite, so it has one bed.” He moves on to the firmer ground of scolding. “That information was in the hotel brochure Dr. Andrews provided. Which you did not read.”
Neil goes over to the doorway, pausing to listen for Morgan. He can’t hear anything, so she’s probably still on the balcony, but he shuts the door just in case. “I should have realized,” he tries to apologize, turning back to face Shaun. “I could have made up a reason for why we needed separate beds. I’ll call the front desk, maybe they could find us another room or—”
“You don’t have to,” Shaun interrupts, stopping Neil’s walk to the phone on the nightstand. “It does not bother me.” He appears to be studying the comforter, running a finger down one of the silver threads in the stitching. He doesn’t look at Neil when he asks, “Unless the issue is…you do not want to share a bed?”
“It’d be fine with me, Shaun. I’ve shared beds with plenty of people.” That doesn’t sound like he meant it to sound. “Platonically,” he emphasizes, “so it doesn’t faze me. But I know you’ve never…made it a habit.”
“I have not made it a habit,” Shaun agrees, “nor do I want to.”
“Right.” Neil swallows around the painful feeling that causes. Shaun might be fine with this for a couple nights, out of necessity, but he dislikes the idea of sharing a bed with Neil so much that he doesn’t want to make it a habit. Not that Neil can blame him for wanting to retain his own personal space.
“We won’t make it a habit,” Neil tells him. “After this weekend, we’ll never have to do it again. I’ll come up with an excuse for Marcus about any future trips.”
Shaun doesn’t seem happy with that perfectly reasonable solution. “I was not talking about us. I do not want to make it a habit with other people.” He’s speaking incredibly slowly, most likely because Neil has become incapable of having a coherent conversation. “I have told you that you are not other people.”
The hurt from a moment earlier vanishes once Neil processes what Shaun’s saying. He remembers a few of those occasions, and how wonderful he’s always felt knowing that Shaun views him differently than everyone else. “Then it’s settled,” Neil offers, making sure to spell it out, “we’re both fine with it.”
“Yes,” Shaun says, which erases the last of Neil’s concerns…right until he adds, “We should be sharing a bed.”
Neil must not have heard him right. “What?”
Shaun moves further onto the bed, lying across it on his back. “It would look suspicious to Morgan if we had different beds in the same room. Or separate rooms, entirely.”
“That…is an excellent point.” Neil hadn’t considered it, but Shaun’s logic makes perfect sense—it’s a good thing the other man keeps track of the details Neil finds himself overlooking more every day.
“Six people could comfortably sleep in this bed.” Shaun props himself up on his elbows to look over at Neil. He’s not exaggerating, either—even lying across it as he is, there’s plenty of room left on the mattress, both above his head and below his feet. It has to be custom-made to be larger than those on the regular market.
“Sleeping with six people, Murphy?” Neil crosses the room to open an armoire made of polished wood that matches the bed and twin bureaus. “I know they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but that seems excessive to me.”
“I do not want us to share a bed with that many people,” Shaun (endearingly) clarifies. “I only made the comment to remark upon the size of the bed.”
“And I was joking.”
“I thought so, but sometimes I cannot tell.” Shaun sits up and motions to the free side of the bed—the same side Neil sleeps on at home. “You should lie down.”
It’s tempting. Very tempting. All the more so because Shaun is right there, but Neil has responsibilities he can’t ignore, no matter how much he wants to. “I have to go through my emails.”
“You can respond to them lying down.”
He could…but it will definitely sap what little (non-existent?) motivation he has. “It’s better if I don’t.”
Shaun doesn’t like that answer (and to be honest, neither does Neil).
“If you try,” Shaun tells him, carefully, “then I will try.”
Their deal. The one they’d just made in the other room. If Neil tries to take better care of himself, then Shaun will try to worry less.
From anyone else, it would have been a challenge for Neil to hold up his end of the bargain. Other people would have used it as a warning, or as leverage—if Neil wanted compliance with his request, he had to do something for them first.
That’s not what Shaun’s saying, though. He’s not trying to negotiate, or to issue a threat. His statement had been a hopeful reminder, along with an unspoken question.
He wants to know how much Neil’s really going to try.
There’s probably nothing else in the world that could have gotten Neil to change his mind so quickly. He kicks off his shoes and goes over to settle on the bed, lying on his back on top of the covers. It doesn’t take long to get comfortable on a bed as luxurious as this one, and he allows himself a minute to enjoy the feeling before turning his head. Shaun’s been watching him the whole time, sitting only a few feet away despite all the extra space.
“Alright, Shaun Murphy.” Neil extends his hand, palm side up, and rests it on the bed between them in an offer Shaun can accept if he wants. “I’m trying.”
Shaun’s already happier, his relief obvious now that he knows Neil’s going to make a real effort. He reaches to take hold of Neil’s hand, smiling when he says, “I’m trying, too.”
Chapter 15
Notes:
Happy New Year!!! This past year was very difficult for me, as it was for many others, so I truly hope the new one is brighter for all of us. I wish everyone health and happiness in the coming year (and all those still to come).
Since I no longer watch the show, inspiration has been harder to come by, but I am still here and enjoying this universe as much as I did in the beginning. (It really is mostly an excuse for me to write about them being in love, with like 10% plot sprinkled throughout.)
I truly appreciate everyone who's given me support and encouragement, especially recently. I have a lot of love for these characters and this world, and knowing other people are still enjoying it has given me so much motivation to keep going, especially when I find it more difficult. So a very special thank you, to all of you. <3 <3
Chapter Text
A few sharp knocks on the bedroom door startle Neil awake, though he’s more surprised to find he fell asleep in the first place. Before he or Shaun can answer, the door partially opens and Morgan peers into the room. Neil can’t have been asleep very long if she’s still hanging around.
“Oh good!” she exclaims, not hesitating to shove the door open fully, hard enough that it hits the doorstop and she barely manages to throw a hand up to keep it from hitting her in the face on the rebound. “I was afraid you two wouldn’t be dressed.”
Neil’s probably too tired to show how incredulous he is at Morgan’s claim. “If that’s true, Reznick, then why did you come in?”
The question surprises her, probably because it makes logical sense which she’s currently lacking. She recovers with record speed, winking at them as she strolls a circuit around the room. “Guess I wasn’t that afraid after all.”
Neil forces himself to sit up, which is a truly monumental feat he should get a lot of credit for, but in a shocking display of disrespect, neither of his residents applaud him for it. He spares a cursory glance around for his phone, but it seems to be missing. He doesn’t care enough to go searching for it because it gives him a good excuse to avoid work for a while longer.
“You are supposed to wait for an answer before entering,” Shaun reminds Morgan, with a patience envied by many of their co-workers. “We discussed this already.”
“I knocked. Loudly. What was I supposed to do after getting no answer?”
“You waited one second,” Shaun says. “That was not enough time for either of us to respond.”
“I was saving you—well, let’s be real, I was saving Dr. Melendez the trouble of lying to me and/or telling me to stay out.” She sends Neil a look implying he should be grateful she spared him from having to come up with another scathing response. “You’re welcome.”
Neil is exhausted and for the first time in perhaps years, it has nothing to do with any of his residents. That has to be why the only thing he can think of to say is, “…Thanks?”
“It’s no problem at all,” Morgan says cheerfully, while Shaun exhales loudly enough to be noticeable, but not quite enough to be a sigh.
“You are encouraging her behavior,” Shaun admonishes, ever so helpfully, and Neil collapses back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. 30 seconds of sitting was about…30 seconds too long. “Are you okay?” Shaun asks, and it takes Neil a few seconds to register the question was most likely directed at him.
“Just tired,” he repeats for the thousandth time, despite knowing Shaun won’t believe it. He has no better answer, though. He doesn’t feel ‘sick’, at least not in any way he can diagnose.
Shaun exhales again, this time definitely a sigh, and Neil shifts his arm to look at him. He’s next to Neil on the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, knees pulled up to his chest. His arms are resting on them, phone in one hand, but he’s watching Neil and he’s not happy. Neil figures that to Shaun he must look sleep-deprived (because there’s no way he looks pathetic or pitiful or sick, absolutely not), and he can’t do anything about it except reach over to squeeze Shaun’s ankle in reassurance. His resident doesn’t smile, but his frown eases a little, so Neil leaves his hand right where it is.
Drawers opening and closing across the room brings Neil’s attention back to Morgan, who’s searching through one of the empty bureaus. She tends to act better when she’s supervised, and sure enough, she starts heading for the mini-bar, but veers off course when she notices Neil watching her. Unfortunately, his observation doesn’t keep her from poking and prodding at everything else within reach, basically acting as if the room is hers. She’s saying something about the ‘unfairness of it all’, but Neil’s trying his best to tune her out.
He wonders if he should reestablish some boundaries. Or…establish them for the first time? Before Neil can think too hard about making an attempt (he doesn’t know if he’s in any shape to manage it), Morgan’s phone rings, which interrupts her diatribe about how she plans to ‘demand room equality’ on every trip from now on.
“I’m going to take this,” she says, heading for the en suite, “while I shamelessly go through all the products the hotel left for you.” She shuts the door behind her, which is the only reason Neil doesn’t order her to take the call in her own room.
(If he becomes the type of boss who literally has to send his residents to their room… What does that say about him? More importantly, what does it say about them?)
“You were asleep less than ten minutes,” Shaun tells him, and though he doesn’t add that he’s sorry, Neil hears it in every word. “I would have told her not to come in if she had given me time to answer her.”
“It’s okay.” Neil slides his hand from Shaun’s ankle down to the top of his foot, overcome with the sudden urge to pull on it until Shaun lies down next to him. He doesn’t follow through because…there’s no good reason to. (At least, none that make sense.)
“It’s not okay,” Shaun protests, flexing his foot under Neil’s hand. As usual, the younger man’s frustration and annoyance over the situation is directly tied to how Neil currently feels. “She is being inconsiderate.”
Neil’s struck with the terrible urge to defend Morgan. “To be fair, she didn’t know I was sleeping, and it’s unlikely you would have been able to deter her if you tried. The only reason I have any effect is because I technically have authority over her.” That and she does care about his opinion because it affects her job.
“I can change her behavior,” Shaun’s insisting. “I have done it before. The problem is that she figures out each new method I devise and then she adapts.” It sounds like he can’t decide if he’s dismayed or impressed by a worthy challenger. “I am currently between methods.”
“Don’t go crafting any revenge plots, okay?” When Shaun doesn’t reply, Neil pushes lightly at his ankle. “Murphy.” Nothing, so he nudges him again. “Don’t do it.” Still nothing, so he nudges even harder. When Shaun remains impassive, Neil lets some sternness into his voice. “Am I going to have to push you right off the bed? Because that’s where we’re heading at this rate.”
“That would not help your argument,” Shaun claims loftily, the very picture of unaffected, which just won’t do.
Neil forces himself to sit up again (why is it so difficult?) and Shaun braces himself, probably wondering the likelihood of Neil making good on his threat.
“Leave her—” Neil reaches over to push at Shaun’s knee this time, satisfied when the younger man finally reacts, laughing and twisting away. “—to me.”
“Okay,” Shaun sighs, in a last ditch effort at holding onto his annoyance, but that’s always a losing battle when he’s up against Neil. Shaun continues to eye him cautiously, as if he thinks his attending might actually decide to lunge over and shove him off the bed. “What is your plan for Morgan?”
It would help if Neil had one, probably. “It’s a work in progress,” he says vaguely. “First though, we need to present a united front, so stop looking at me like I’m about to attack you.”
“I do not think you are going to attack me,” Shaun claims, and while he’s not afraid, he’s definitely cautious of the possibility Neil might do something he’s not expecting.
“You look enough on edge that I’m getting a headache by proxy.”
“You have a headache?”
“A slight one,” he admits. “It’s not actually from you, it’s from being tired.” Maybe he can distract Shaun while also making him feel better. “Come here.”
Now Shaun’s more suspicious. “Why?”
“Why do you think?” Neil doesn’t know how he maintains his composure through half of their conversations. “So I can more easily throw you off the bed, of course.”
“You are joking,” Shaun says, inching closer until Neil can put an arm around his shoulders and pull him into his side. Shaun mustn’t be that wary of him, because he instantly relaxes, all defenses gone.
“Yes, I’m joking,” Neil confirms. “You know I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, right?”
“Yes.” Shaun slides down so he can lean on Neil’s shoulder. “I know.”
“I don’t just mean physically, either.”
“I know that, too.”
“Good. Just checking.”
Shaun stretches his legs out in front of him on the bed. “I like it when you check. Most people do not.”
“Making certain you understand me is equally as important to me as it is to you. I wish, for your sake, that more people were like me.”
To his surprise, Shaun laughs at that. “No one is like you.”
“Is that a compliment?” Neil asks, with mock suspicion.
“Yes. It’s a good thing,” Shaun promises, with so much warmth and sincerity that Neil’s heart turns over. “It’s why we are…” He doesn’t finish the sentence.
Neil reluctantly drops his arm when Shaun sits up straighter. “It’s why we are…what?”
Shaun’s not looking at him, eyes fixed on the closed door to the en suite, maybe wondering how long Morgan’s call is going to take. (Neil’s convinced she’s plotting how best to steal everything that came stocked with the room, and he doesn’t even care.)
“You are my best friend,” Shaun finally says. “But I don’t know if I am yours. When we began this, you told me that I was…one of your best friends.”
One of them. As in, Neil had many good friends and Shaun could count himself among them. That used to be the most accurate way to describe their friendship, but things have changed a lot in seven months, for both of them. Even if Shaun’s feelings haven’t become as…complicated as Neil’s, he clearly views their relationship as one of the most important things in his life. And in that, he and Neil are the same.
“You are not one of anything,” Neil tells him firmly, needing to correct his wrong assumption. “You are my best friend, Shaun Murphy.” When Shaun only looks at him, both hopeful and curious, Neil keeps going. “We’ve become much closer than we used to be, haven’t we?”
Shaun slowly nods. “Yes.”
“I have a lot of good friends, Shaun. So do you. But to me, nothing compares to our friendship. Nothing even comes close.” He manages to stop just shy of admitting that Shaun is the most important person in his life. That he doesn’t know how he’d get through a day without him. Not anymore.
(Sometimes, Neil gets this terrible feeling of dread, like he’s setting himself up for complete devastation. And there are any number of things he could do to try and prevent the inevitable, but…he doesn’t. He can’t.)
Shaun saves him from his increasingly despondent thoughts by holding out his hand and saying, formally, “Then we are officially best friends.”
Neil feels better the moment he shakes Shaun’s hand. “I think it’s been official for a while,” he offers, reminding himself not to pull Shaun in for another hug…and then he goes and does it, anyway. Shaun doesn’t resist at all, wrapping his arms around Neil at the same moment Neil does the same to him.
“I do not usually like hugging my friends,” Shaun says. “You are different.”
“I’m your best friend,” Neil says, in teasing reminder.
“You are,” Shaun happily agrees, as they let go of each other.
“And you never have to be close to anyone you don’t want to be close to,” Neil says, as a real reminder this time. “That includes me, especially. It’s not expected and you’re certainly not obligated.” Though maybe his actions sometimes speak otherwise. “No matter how often I hug you or invade your personal space…” He’d literally done it twice in the last two minutes! “I probably do that too much. Just say the word and I’ll stop.”
“It is not too much and you do not have to stop.” Shaun’s starting to smile. “Being close to you is not an obligation for me.”
“Okay, good. I had to check.” Neil can’t help himself after that type of permission, either. He runs a hand over the top of Shaun’s head, down his neck, then along his shoulder, carefully watching Shaun’s face the whole time. His resident never flinches, or leans away, or seems uncomfortable—he only smiles more. Like he knows exactly what Neil’s testing and it amuses him to no end. “Not an obligation, huh, Murphy?”
“No.” Shaun shakes his head, then confirms something Neil has long suspected. “I like it.”
Oh, this is so bad for Neil. Shaun has previously alluded to how he feels, that he likes being close to certain people, and his actions have more than proven that Neil is one of those people—but Shaun has never said it in such stark terms, directly to him. Neil already looks for any excuse to be close to Shaun, he just manages to come to his senses and hold himself back a lot of the time. But what’s going to hold him back now? If Shaun doesn’t worry about whether they’re too close for friends, then why should Neil?
Why shouldn’t he take every advantage of this?
Because it’s dangerous. There’s that distant feeling of dread again, but Neil determinedly ignores it. If his options come down to ‘keep his distance from Shaun’ or ‘be closer to him’, he’s going to choose the latter, every time.
Like right now, where Neil only realizes his hand is still on Shaun’s shoulder when the younger man turns slightly away from him and asks, “Do you hear…the shower?”
It takes Neil a second to tune back in to the reality around them. That is definitely the sound of running water coming from the next room. Oh for the love of— “Reznick!” he shouts, causing Shaun to jump. “Sorry,” he murmurs, gripping Shaun’s shoulder in a warning he’s going to finish his threat: “You better not be taking a shower in there!” (He can’t entirely rule it out because as they’ve repeatedly established, his co-workers lack anything resembling proper boundaries…and he’s thinking that while he’s in bed with one of his residents whom he’s pretending to date. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t cast any judgement around here.)
“You have a rainforest shower and a spa tub, which I think doubles as a hot tub,” Morgan yells back, as the water turns off. “There’s even another balcony!”
Neil hasn’t made it in there yet. “It sounds like my master bath at home,” he tells Shaun.
“It is. Yours is nicer.”
“Should I tell her that?”
“She would come over just to take a bath.”
Talk about a nightmare come to life. “She can never find out.”
“She will, eventually,” Shaun warns, and as soon as he says it, Neil knows he’s right.
He lets go of Shaun (whom he was still holding onto, apparently) and rearranges some pillows so he can sit up against the headboard. He’s not even going to attempt lying down again until Morgan’s gone. As if she’s heard the very thought, the bathroom door opens and she sweeps back into the bedroom (thankfully dressed and completely dry). She’s carrying a precarious armful of travel-size products, nearly losing a couple on her way to the bed.
“Look at all this!” she rages, dropping everything onto the spare blanket neatly folded at the foot of the bed. “Look at it!”
“We are looking,” Shaun assures her, which has the effect of calming her somewhat. “Why have you removed all the complimentary products and placed them on the bed?”
“Because they’ve supplied you two with enough to last for a month,” she gripes (which is a step up from the yelling). “Know what I have in my room?” She switches her accusatory gaze between them, as if they’re personally responsible for having stocked the hotel rooms. “About half of what you have.”
“This room was booked for two people and yours was booked for one,” Shaun reminds her. When Morgan glares at him obstinately, he continues, “Your room has half the occupants. It would stand to reason it has half the products.”
“No one asked you to do the math,” she sulks, more embarrassed than anything else.
“You did the math,” Shaun points out.
Morgan draws a breath, no doubt to keep their fight going (or escalate it), but Neil cuts in before she can follow through with either option. “Reznick, just take it. Take all of it. I assure you we don’t care. Shaun’s not going to touch it and I brought my own things.” (More like Shaun had packed for Neil according to the Shaun Murphy ‘standard travel checklist’, but it’s practically the same thing.)
“I have my own things, too,” she says. “But this stuff is really nice, so if it’ll just go to waste…” She vanishes back into the bathroom, then returns with a tote bag emblazoned with the hotel logo. As she starts gathering up the items on the bed, she adds, “I’ll check the other bathroom on my way out for anything they left in there, too.”
“You do that,” Neil says cheerfully. “Right now would be a great time.”
Unfortunately, his thinly veiled suggestion to get out only refocuses her attention on him. And Shaun. “I like that we arrived less than an hour ago and you two are in bed already.” She lowers her voice as if she’s scandalized (something Neil knows with certainty that she has never been in her life). “It’s 3 in the afternoon, you know.”
“People can be tired, or feel unwell, at any time of day,” Shaun lightly admonishes, completely missing her over-the-top innuendo. Neil would normally put a stop to this immediately, but Morgan’s frustration at their lack of reaction is enough reason for him to stay silent.
“No, Shaun,” she says carefully. “I meant in bed.”
Shaun looks at Neil, then down at the bed, then back at Morgan. “Yes, we are in bed.”
“I can see that,” she grits out, like the words themselves are painful.
“Then why are you stating the obvious?” Shaun’s watching her like she’s crazy (which she is, make no mistake).
“I was—ugh, you two.” Her words are an accusation all on their own, and her annoyance with them is making up for some of what she’s already put Neil through this weekend. (If he’s lucky, maybe it will drive her out.)
That’s when Shaun has to go and be the best person Neil knows. “Is something wrong?” the younger man asks her, with genuine concern, and Morgan’s completely thrown by his question.
“I was trying to make a joke,” she admits, rubbing the back of her neck. “You two are in bed and I was implying you might be…” She waves her hand around when Shaun keeps staring at her blankly. “Engaged in…um…amorous activities?” She cringes as she says it, but not more than Neil does at her uncomfortable awkwardness trying to explain.
“I see,” Shaun says, matter of factly. He sits up straighter and pulls at his shirt, like he needs to ensure his clothing is unruffled enough that it hasn’t accidentally been the cause of any wrong impression. “We were not.”
“It was a joke,” she groans. “I didn’t really think you’d be doing anything…explicit while I was in the next room. But you have to admit, you two can’t go more than ten minutes without touching—and that’s an extremely generous estimate.” She sounds more sure of herself now. “Even if you weren’t doing anything past G-rated, I have no doubt you were all over each other the second I was out of sight.”
That is…the truth. They’d been touching for pretty much the entire time Morgan was in the other room. All Neil can do is stare at her, but Shaun has decided to argue the point.
“You are wrong,” he’s telling Morgan. “We can go more than ten minutes without touching each other. We have done that many times.”
“Of course,” she says sweetly, “like right now, for example. I’m sure it’s been longer than ten minutes.”
It most certainly has not. At their conspicuous silence, Morgan turns to Shaun, knowing she has no shot at Neil responding honestly (or at all). “It’s been less than ten minutes, hasn’t it?” she asks. When Shaun nods slightly, Morgan’s smile turns triumphant. “So I was right! You can say it.”
“You are still wrong,” Shaun insists, “and we will prove it.” To Neil’s dismay, Shaun is setting a timer on his phone. “Ten minutes, starting now.”
“Murphy,” Neil sighs, not without affection, “you are killing me.”
“I am not,” Shaun calmly denies. “You will survive ten minutes.”
“Maybe, but I won’t like it.” After ten more seconds where Shaun doesn’t cave, Neil realizes that he actually hates it.
Neil’s objection to this has nothing to do with not touching each other for ten minutes. Obviously, they go hours at a time without even seeing each other, just in the course of their jobs. No, this is about the fact that Shaun has literally set a timer for how long they need to stay away from each other, based on nothing more than a joking comment from Morgan.
He could let it go, maybe talk about it with Shaun later, but something in Neil won’t let him. He slides some pillows aside to make room and motions for Shaun to join him at the headboard.
Shaun holds up his phone, like he thinks Neil needs to see the timer. “It has been 16 seconds.”
“Do you want to sit over there for the next nine and a half minutes, just to prove some ridiculous point to Morgan?” Shaun doesn’t answer, but Neil can tell from his expression that no, he doesn’t want to, so Neil holds out his hand. “Come on.”
“You cannot always get your way,” Shaun warns, even as he moves to sit next to Neil, who wraps an arm around his shoulders.
“Sure looks like I can,” Neil murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, which causes Shaun to give in to a smile. It’s the kind of thing Neil often stopped himself from doing before, but Shaun’s reaction proves he’d been telling the truth earlier. He likes it. And Neil likes it, too. Anything that makes Shaun smile is worth doing a lot more of, in his opinion.
Shaun stops the timer on his phone. “Why does this bother you?”
Neil glances at the display. 33 seconds. Morgan will never let them live this down (not that Neil cares). “If you want to stay away from me,” he tells Shaun, “or anyone else, that’s up to you. And only you.”
“I was joking!” Morgan protests. “Shaun is the one who decided to take it as a challenge.”
“I don’t care if they’re joking, like Morgan,” Neil continues, “or if they’re serious, because no one else is allowed to make decisions about your relationships. Not unless they’re a part of them.” His words sound a bit more intense than he means them to, but he doesn’t care. This isn’t up for debate. “When it comes to us, we decide. You and me. Got it?”
“Yes.” Shaun’s turning his phone over in his hands. “What if I had wanted to wait ten minutes to prove Morgan wrong?”
“Then I’d have spent them trying to convince you it wasn’t worth it,” Neil says honestly, laughing at how ridiculous his own reaction would have been. “But I wouldn’t have touched you.”
“I told you,” Shaun says, relaxing more against him, “you are not like anyone.”
“Wow,” Morgan breathes, with an amused shake of her head. “How long did you make it on your timer there?”
“I thought you had a plan to get her to leave,” Shaun prompts, not nearly low enough.
Too bad Neil never got around to figuring one out. Guess he’ll use an old standby instead. “We both know the best way to deal with Reznick is to ignore her until she gets bored and wanders off.”
“That can take a long time,” Shaun remarks. “She is very persistent.”
“Maybe we can deliberately aggravate her instead? Speed things along?”
Morgan is thoroughly unimpressed with both of them. “Your plans might work better if you didn’t plot right in front of me.”
“Is there a reason you’re still here?” Shaun asks her, without the biting inflection most people would have used (because his question is real, not sarcastic). As usual, Shaun’s sincerity is the fastest trick to disarm her.
“Actually, yes,” she answers pleasantly. “I wanted to see if you were going to any of the welcome events this afternoon.”
“I decided not to attend,” Shaun tells her. “They aren’t part of the itinerary we finalized with Dr. Andrews, so they are not required.”
“Sure you don’t want to go?” Morgan cajoles. “It’s great for networking, Shaun.”
“I don’t want to network right now,” Shaun replies. “There will be plenty of opportunities later this weekend.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone loves you, already. It doesn’t matter if you’re there or not.” She waves a hand at him dismissively. “Which leaves you, Dr. Melendez. And let me guess, without Shaun to drag you there, you won’t be going, either. Especially not after the way you’ve been acting today.”
He ignores the part about Shaun, which is accurate. “The only way I’ve been acting is tired.”
“That is not true,” Shaun says, and Neil tips his head back against the headboard. He should have known his answer was nowhere near honest enough for Shaun. “You have also been restless and impatient and easily frustrated.”
“Aren’t those all the same?”
“They are caused by the same issue,” Shaun says. “Your threshold for being irritated with everything has lowered significantly below its usual level.”
“I usually hide it better,” Neil says, in a slight correction. It’s a crucial part of his job; if he lost it on every patient or colleague who bothered him, he wouldn’t have lasted longer than a week in his profession. (He’s worked with Marcus Andrews for over ten years, for God’s sake, and that alone proves he has a rare type of patience that’s unrivaled by most people they know.)
“You also mentioned you had a headache,” Shaun says, because he forgets almost nothing, and even less than that when it comes to Neil. “How do you feel now?”
Neil can’t brush off the question, especially not after promising he’d take better care of himself. “My head still hurts,” he admits, “no doubt brought on by stress.” He accompanies that with a pointed look at Morgan. “I was hoping she—I mean the headache—would go away.”
“I’m glad your sense of humor has remained intact through the pain,” Morgan says dryly. She starts rummaging around in the tote bag, then makes a strangled noise of frustration and upends the entire thing on the bed, undoing all the work she just did cleaning it up. “Aha! Knew they were in here somewhere.” She starts throwing individually wrapped packets of pills at Neil and Shaun. “Advil, Tylenol, aspirin, Excedrin…”
“Be careful,” Shaun scolds (as if hitting them isn’t her intention), and Neil lets him go so he can gather the pain relievers now scattered all over the bed.
“I see I figured out how to separate you two,” she smirks. “Just throw stuff at you.” She caps that off by whipping another packet at Neil’s head and he manages to block it right before it hits him in the face.
“Reznick.” He throws it back and she yelps when it hits her shoulder. “Are you trying to enrage me?” As far as he’s concerned, the answer to that is always ‘yes’.
“You should have easily caught that,” she claims, as she grabs a bottle of water from the minibar. To her credit, at least she has the sense to walk back over and hand it to him instead of launching it across the room. “It was an easy toss. You have delayed reflexes to go with that headache.”
“I’m tired, which accounts for both. And I don’t recall asking for your medical opinion.” Neil swallows the pills Shaun hands him without glancing at them.
“You’re welcome,” she says coolly, throwing products back into the tote bag with Shaun’s help.
Neil’s cataloging the supplies as they refill the bag. Lotions, hand soaps, shampoo and conditioners, medicine, hand sanitizer, mouthwash, toothpaste… “Did you steal everything from the bathroom that wasn’t nailed down?” He hadn’t realized how much she’d taken until now; he must not have been paying too much attention before (in his defense, it’s his default method of keeping his sanity around the residents).
“I left the towels,” she says magnanimously, “but I’ll probably take a few…or all of them, before we check out.”
Shaun drops a container of floss and some chapstick into the bag Morgan’s holding open for him. “These products are complimentary, but they will charge you if you steal the towels.”
“Why do you think I’m going to take them from your room?” Her question sets off a bickering match between her and Shaun about the legality of her actions and Shaun’s refusal to become ’complicit in her theft’.
Neil sips his water and hopes the pain relievers will kick in fast. (He needs lightning speed, here.) “Which one of you thinks this argument is helping my headache?”
Shaun’s instantly contrite. “I’m sorry that Morgan is being difficult.”
“Thank you, Shaun Murphy,” he says warmly, “my sweetest resident by far.”
Morgan’s outraged. “He apologized for me!”
“Someone has to,” Shaun says, matter of factly.
“I am not difficult,” she’s insisting. “I am the complete opposite of difficult, I’m easy—wait, no, I just heard it, I take it back.”
“So you’re admitting you are difficult?” Shaun asks, with innocence that could either be real or feigned.
Morgan narrows her eyes at him, maybe trying to figure it out along with Neil. Finally she does the logical thing and gives up. “Fine. I might be difficult sometimes, but only when my colleagues force me to be.”
Neil laughs in surprise, then rubs his temples at the corresponding surge of pain in his head (in a tell he’s sure is missed by neither of his residents). “I can relate to that on a deeply personal level.”
“I knew you were getting sick,” Morgan accuses. “You can’t hide anything from me, Dr. Melendez.”
If she only knew… (God willing she never finds out.)
“Why are my residents so perceptive?” Neil asks, not really of them, but of the universe. “Come to think of it, I am a fantastic teacher…”
“Still not your resident,” Morgan remarks.
“Close enough.” Somehow, he sees her more now that she’s on Lim’s team than he did before.
She puts a hand on her hip in a scolding posture. “Did you turn your complaint about us into a compliment for yourself?”
“Technically,” Shaun puts in, “he is complimenting us, as well.”
Neil figures he might as well give up the act. How does it always come to this with his residents? He can stonewall anyone. Forever. But once they start in…he’s already lost.
“Alright,” Neil begins, “you both know I’m not feeling like myself, which means I might be getting sick.” He holds up a hand to temporarily ward them off. “But I can’t say for sure. I was trying to rest and I was succeeding until someone practically kicked the door in.”
“I politely knocked,” Morgan insists, conveniently glossing over everything that happened afterwards. “And I’m heading downstairs soon, I only have 30 minutes left to kill.” She sounds scarily determined to spend the half hour with them.
“Sure you’re not tired from all the stealing?” Neil glances at her tote bag, which is close to tipping over. “I thought you might want to settle into your room and relax before the welcome events.”
“I can relax here.” She proves her point by sitting on the end of the bed, then protectively pulls the bag closer to her. “And you told me I could have all this, so it’s not stealing.”
“Eh…” He refuses to give her the win for no reason except she’s Morgan. “It’s sanctioned stealing.”
They look at each other for a few moments, acknowledging the impasse, then simultaneously turn to Shaun.
“It is not stealing,” Shaun rules.
“What!” Neil gasps, as Morgan openly cheers.
“I love you, Shaun,” she declares, as she applauds her own victory. “You’re my favorite co-worker. I’ve always said that.”
Shaun’s more than skeptical. “I have never heard you say that.”
“Well, I’m saying it now.”
“Murphy,” Neil orders, “get back over here so I can kick you for daring to side with Morgan over me.” Actually he’s just close enough Neil might be able to reach him if he stretches his leg…
“You told her she could have the complimentary items.” Shaun pauses when Neil taps him with his foot. “Therefore, she is not stealing from us or the hotel. You gave her the products.” Neil nudges him a little harder for that claim and Shaun tries to look stern. “If she takes the towels—stop that!” He swats Neil’s foot away. “If she takes the towels, then you may rightfully accuse her of stealing.”
“When I take the towels,” Morgan stage whispers.
“See, if I annoy him enough…” Neil nudges him one last time and Shaun laughs, finally moving back enough that he’s out of reach. “…then I eventually get what I want.”
Morgan shakes her head at their antics. Or maybe just Neil’s. “Dr. Melendez, please refrain from harassing our colleague into doing your bidding.”
Oh, she has no idea. “Yes, that’s exactly how it works.” He smiles warmly at Shaun. “I make Shaun do my bidding and not the other way around.”
“I want someone to do my bidding.” Morgan sounds sorry for herself. “That’s what love is all about, right? Making your partner do all the stuff you don’t want to do.”
“We do not ‘make’ each other do anything,” Shaun says, displeased at her wording. “We do things to help each other.”
She shrugs, unconcerned. “Same difference.”
“You’re such a romantic,” Neil says wryly, regretting it the moment her eyes start glinting. If he opened a door he can’t close…
“Speaking of romantic,” she begins slyly, and it takes everything in Neil not to visibly react, “this suite certainly fits the bill. Is this a work conference or your honeymoon?”
“It is a conference,” Shaun confirms for her. “Not our honeymoon.”
“No offense, but if this were our honeymoon—” Neil almost loses his train of thought, but forges on, “—then I hope you wouldn’t be here. Let alone on my bed.”
“No offense,” she throws back, “but in that scenario, I’d be the first one of us to run away screaming.”
Despite the nightmare-inducing idea of her crashing his honeymoon for some godforsaken reason (she’s Morgan, she’d find one), Neil can’t help thinking about it.
His honeymoon. With Shaun. Because they’re married.
He’s experiencing déjà vu. They’d talked about their (imaginary) wedding down in the lobby with Morgan, and now they’re on to the honeymoon? He can only watch in amazement as Morgan and Shaun start discussing their preferred destinations. Morgan has a top 15 list she’s been trying to narrow down. Shaun would rather stay home, where he’s most comfortable.
When things like this come up in conversation—topics that real couples accept in stride—Shaun goes right along with it. Like it’s as normal to talk about their honeymoon as it is for Morgan to want to plan their wedding. Meanwhile, Neil constantly gets tripped up whenever things feel too real (which is happening more and more frequently).
It’s yet more proof Shaun doesn’t have any of the same thoughts Neil does. It must be easy for him to talk about their relationship, because unlike Neil, Shaun is firmly cemented in reality: they’re close friends and their ‘romance’ is merely a cover to ensure they’re left alone.
For Neil, at least, that cover is becoming more complicated by the day. To the point where he wonders if he’s letting it go too far. As he’d recently learned, everyone believes his and Shaun’s future together is set in stone. At the rate they’re accelerating things, they might be married by the end of the weekend.
Good thing they’re in Las Vegas.
He wants to laugh, but he can’t because it might turn hysterical.
“—want a suite exactly like this one on my honeymoon,” Morgan is telling Shaun. “I’m surprised there wasn’t a bottle of champagne and rose petals all over this crazy excuse for a bed.” As she says it, she actually lies down along the foot of it. “You could sleep six people in this!”
“That’s what I said,” Shaun tells her, as Morgan starts laughing. “I do not understand that practice.”
“Six people in a bed?” she asks innocently.
Neil throws one of the pillows at her. “Don’t even start.”
“Knew you were vanilla,” she mutters, then hurriedly brings up her arms as protection when he grabs another pillow.
“He meant the rose petals,” Neil tells her, since it’s a discussion he and Shaun have had before.
“I do not understand what people find romantic about pulling apart flowers,” Shaun explains to Morgan.
She’s clearly surprised, and struggling to come up with an answer. “It’s…uh…pretty?”
“Flowers are living things.” Shaun’s confusion is genuine. “How could the destruction of a living thing, for no useful or practical purpose, be considered romantic?”
“I never really thought about it.” She’s frowning as she contemplates his question, then sits up and brushes some hair out of her eyes. “It…looks nice, I guess?”
“It looks like death,” Shaun says bluntly.
“Tell me how you really feel,” she says dryly.
Shaun takes her up on it. “I do not like flower arrangements, either. The practice of cutting flowers ultimately kills them, even if they can live temporarily in a vase. That is not romantic.”
“Not to you,” she allows, “but it is to some people.”
“Yes,” Shaun’s nodding, “and those people are wrong.”
“That’s like 99% of people!” Morgan’s exasperated, but also petulant. It’s obvious his argument is making an impact and she doesn’t appreciate the challenge to her worldview. “Besides, it’s not like flowers live forever, whether they’re in a vase or not. So there’s no real harm.”
“No,” Shaun agrees, “but if you enjoy flowers, you should plant them and watch them grow, not put them in a vase so you can watch them die.”
“Okay, that’s a fair point,” she grants. “I’m only now realizing there are no flowers in your entire suite.”
“Andrews has Shaun’s travel preferences memorized,” Neil tells her. “Do you think he’s ever asked me about a single preference?”
“Uh…no?” she guesses.
“If he did,” Neil informs her, “it’d be so he could do the opposite.”
“Neil does not have any,” Shaun tells Morgan. “If he did, I would tell Dr. Andrews they were mine.”
“You’re really getting in the way of my righteous indignation here, Murphy.”
“You may remain righteously indignant,” Shaun says. “I try to compensate for the fact that Dr. Andrews does not treat you fairly.”
This, this is why Shaun is his sweetest resident. Neil doesn’t know what to do with it, sometimes. “Thank you, Shaun.”
Morgan turns a curious look to Neil. “I have to know, did Shaun convince you? About the flowers?”
Neil thinks back to that conversation. It had been months ago, when Neil paused a movie after Shaun literally recoiled when a character decked out an entire apartment in thousands of rose petals. Their ensuing debate had segued into several other topics, and they’d never finished the movie.
“What do you think?” Neil asks her.
She’s looking between them with an expression he’s seen from her before, assessing them like they’re a mystery she’s determined to solve. Come to think of it, it’s eerily reminiscent of Park, and Neil suddenly wants to know what the two of them say about him and Shaun when they’re not around.
“I think it doesn’t matter if he changed your opinion or not,” she concludes. “You want him to be happy, so it’s essentially the same thing. I bet you’ll never have a vase of flowers in your home again.”
“We have plants,” Shaun tells Morgan, which saves Neil from having to admit her assessment is disturbingly accurate. “They are alive and we keep them that way.”
“We like plants,” Neil says solemnly, as Morgan stares at him without blinking.
“I suppose the practice of cutting flowers for decoration is kind of…odd,” she relents, then shakes her head at herself. “When you think about it too much.”
“I don’t like it,” Shaun repeats, “but I am aware that most people do not feel the way I do.”
“Which is a shame,” Neil murmurs. “We could use a lot more people like you.”
Morgan leans toward Shaun with newfound curiosity. “Now I want to know—what else does our culture consider romantic that you don’t agree with?”
“Oh, I know this one,” Neil says, causing Shaun to smile. They’ve discussed this, too. “Top five, in ascending order. Number five is music.”
“Sentimental lyrics in overproduced songs are not romantic,” Shaun explains.
“I don’t think you’ve heard the right ones,” Morgan argues.
“I have heard plenty,” Shaun dismisses her, as she rolls her eyes.
Neil can’t contain his grin. “Next is candlelight, or any so-called ‘romantic’ lighting, for that matter.”
“Difficulty seeing each other is not romantic,” Shaun confirms. “Prolonged activity in a dim environment can lead to eye strain and headaches.”
Morgan taps her chin in thought. “What kind of activity are we talking, here?”
“Dinner?” Shaun asks, unsure if that’s what she means.
“Hmm. Disappointing.” She catches Neil’s warning look and hastily moves on. “I happen to love candles. I think they really set the mood.”
“What they set are house fires,” Shaun informs her. “Over 15,000 per year in the United States alone.”
“Seriously?” Morgan is horrified. “That’s depressing, let’s move on to number three.”
“Chocolate, candy, or any type of dessert,” Neil supplies.
“There is nothing romantic about excessive sugar intake, which causes tooth decay and contributes to a significant number of health issues.”
“What if the dessert is in the shape of a heart?” Morgan challenges.
Shaun frowns at her, disapproval plain. “That is even worse since the popular heart shape is not an accurate depiction of a real heart.”
“It’s not?” Morgan gasps. “Thank you for enlightening me, Dr. Murphy.”
Despite discussing all this before, Neil loves hearing Shaun’s arguments every time. “Which leads us to the second item on the list, and runner up to the top spot: Valentine’s Day and everything that goes along with it.”
“Valentine’s Day includes all the things we just covered,” Shaun tells Morgan. “It is a commercially driven holiday meant to increase consumer spending after the economic slowdown which follows Christmas. I find nothing romantic about it.”
“What could be more romantic than showering someone with gifts to prove you love them?”
Shaun ignores her question, turning to Neil. “Morgan has fallen victim to our society’s inescapable Valentine’s Day propaganda.”
“Maybe I think you’re cynical,” she accuses. “You don’t like stereotypically romantic things, and I get that, but there’s nothing wrong with a day which reminds us to value our partners. …If we have them.”
Shaun isn’t buying it. “Isn’t that how you should feel every day?”
She huffs in frustration. “Stop trying to ruin it for me by making valid points. I like presents!”
“You value wealth and material things.” There’s no judgement in Shaun’s tone. “I do not.”
“Money equals security,” she tells him, unapologetically. “I have plenty of my own but I don’t object to being taken care of…” Her smile gets wider. “Or spoiled.”
“People can take care of each other without money.”
“Fair enough.” She doesn’t argue further, which is a sign she agrees with him more than not. “Alright, that was only four. What’s the top ‘romantic’ thing that you don’t find romantic?”
“Dancing,” Neil and Shaun answer simultaneously.
“Agh, I should have known that one!” she berates herself. “I’ve only heard you say you don’t like dancing at every event we’ve ever attended in our lives. Though I have seen you do it, on rare occasions.”
“To be polite,” he says, “or as part of my job. There is nothing romantic about dancing with Claire or one of our benefactors.”
“I sure hope not…” Neil muses, as Shaun tries not to smile.
Morgan seems to be thinking it over, too. “I would ask if you found anything romantic, Shaun, but I see it every day of my life.”
Shaun seems more concerned than a moment ago, probably worried their cover is in danger. “…You do?”
She raises her hand. “Reluctant eyewitness, remember? Now, I could recite an exhaustive list of all the romantic things I’ve ever seen from you two, but watching them firsthand has already damaged my cynicism and reluctance to believe in real love.”
Neil’s deciphering that, and it might be the most insane thing he’s ever heard (and trust that he’s heard a lot of insane things…many of them from Morgan). “Are you saying our relationship made you believe in love?”
“I would never say such a thing,” she scoffs. “…Not in so many words.”
“You cannot be serious.” Neil takes a moment to consider that she lives in a completely different world from them. One where he and Shaun are just happily in a relationship and everyone accepts it. That’s what they wanted, of course, but the reality of it still jars Neil whenever he thinks about it. Especially when she goes and says things like…they make her believe in love.
“It’s not like I enjoy drowning in happiness and romance at every moment,” she’s whining. “I literally can’t escape it. Everywhere I turn, there you two are.”
“You’re in our room.” Neil’s convinced her level of self-awareness is permanently stuck at zero.
“Yes, and here you are!” she exclaims, like Neil has proven her point. “Being all…excruciatingly in love.”
“We are just sitting here.” Shaun looks as confused as Neil. “We are not doing anything.”
“Yes, see?” Neil jumps onto that opening. “We’re not even touching. Shaun is three whole feet away!” Which is kind of far, actually. Why is he so far away, again? Oh right, Morgan had been throwing stuff at them, so Shaun helped her clean it up, and he’d never made his way back. Neil really just wants him to come back —
“Something wrong, Dr. Melendez?” Morgan’s knowing smile reveals she knows exactly what he’s thinking.
The safest option is to ignore her question. “Don’t you have to get going soon?” He wonders what the ramifications would be if he called security on her.
“Not just yet.”
“For someone who supposedly ‘can’t take us’ so much of the time, you sure like to be around us.”
She’s right to be wary of where Neil’s going with this. “What are you implying…”
“Morgan enjoys spending time with us,” Shaun says, causing Morgan to sit up straighter in alarm. “She is our friend.”
“I know what you’re doing.” She shifts on the bed, uncomfortable in the way she usually is when it comes to emotions. (At least, when it comes to her own—she has no problem riling up everyone else she knows.)
Neil decides to up the ante. “Or maybe, Shaun, she’s looking for relationship pointers. She was going on and on about how romantic we are…” It’s amazing how everyone interprets their friendship as romantic just because…that’s what Neil and Shaun tell them it is. (Alright, they might share some of the blame.) “Maybe Morgan wants a similar relationship in her own life.”
Morgan hastily pushes herself backwards, nearly tipping off the bed in her hurry to stand up. “I’m hardly using you two as some kind of…relationship guide. That is—you are crazy.”
“I’m just following the evidence.” He actually does believe her, but he’s having too much fun to stop (and she owes him after the harassment he’s had to endure since he met her).
Morgan opens and closes her mouth, then snaps her fingers and pulls out her phone. “Would you look at that? I have to get going after all.”
“Really, so soon?” Neil watches as she throws the tote bag over her shoulder. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Her tone is darkly humorous as she heads for the door. “I’m well aware you’re trying to drive me out and it’s only working because I’m letting it work. Just to be clear.”
“And we’re very grateful for that,” Neil says, kindly. “Now please leave us alone and go terrorize the other people at this conference.”
“Fine, but I won’t enjoy it nearly as much as when I terrorize you two.” She stops in the doorway long enough to add, “I’m going to peruse your gift baskets on the way out, if that’s okay.”
Neil must not have heard her right. “What I can’t believe is that you asked permission.”
“I might have…already looked through them before I came in here.”
“That sounds more accurate.” He’s also not about to argue. “If it gets you out of here, Reznick, feel free to take it all. If it’s fine with Shaun, I think they’re addressed to him.”
“Take whatever you want,” Shaun offers.
“Thank you, Shaun.” She’s backing through the doorway, openly smug about having gotten everything she wanted. “You two enjoy your quiet afternoon of…I don’t know, staring at each other. I’ll see you at dinner.”
She pulls the bedroom door shut behind her as she leaves, and what follows is one of the most wonderful sounds in the world: nothing.
Neil wastes no time sprawling back on the bed, pulling one of the hundreds of pillows over his eyes to block out the light. “Well, that’s about six hours we’ll never get back.”
“It was 23 minutes.”
No way that’s possible. “It felt like six hours.”
“It felt like 23 minutes,” Shaun assures him. “I will let you sleep.”
“I never said I was going to sleep.”
“Then I was mistaken,” Shaun says. “Lying down and putting a pillow over your face gave me the wrong impression.”
“Keep mocking me, Murphy.” It’s too much work to move the pillow, so Neil blindly grabs another one and throws it in Shaun’s general direction. “See what happens.”
“You will try to hit me with a pillow and miss?”
“I’ll look next time,” he threatens. When Shaun says nothing, Neil actually does move the pillow, only to find the younger man watching him uncertainly. “What is it?”
“You told Morgan you wanted to be left alone.”
“Yes, by Morgan,” he stresses, “not you. I told her to leave us alone. You can do whatever you want this afternoon, go with Morgan or stay here, but don’t think I’d ever kick you out of your own room. Or any room I’m in, for that matter.”
“Alright.” Shaun sounds agreeable enough as he slides off the bed…and then promptly leaves the room.
Neil’s left staring at the open doorway, replaying the conversation and trying to figure out if there’s any way he was misunderstood. Unfortunately, thinking takes a lot more work than it should, so he gives up and goes back to staring at the ceiling. He should probably try sleeping again, but it’s a toss-up on whether that will leave him more well-rested for tonight’s dinner, or just more out of it than he already feels.
While he’s trying to decide, Shaun unexpectedly returns and Neil can’t rationally explain away his surge of relief. “I thought you left.”
“I did.” Shaun holds up his tablet. “To retrieve this.”
“I wondered if you changed your mind and were going to join Morgan.”
“No, I’m not.” Shaun’s plugging a charger into the outlet on his side of the bed. “She is still in the other room taking items from the gift baskets. I told her to take everything back to her room, but she said she doesn’t want all of it.”
“She’s thoughtful to leave us the things she doesn’t want. From the gift baskets that aren’t for her.”
“We both told her she could have what she wanted.”
“I can still complain.”
“Yes, you are good at that.”
Neil gauges the distance between them, but has to abandon any plan for (immediate) revenge. “I know you purposely do that when you’re out of my reach.”
“What?” Shaun tilts his head. “Tell the truth?”
Neil waves a finger at him, on to the game. “You’re still doing it.”
“Telling the truth?” Shaun tries to ask innocently, but his growing amusement gives him away.
“Your version of the truth.”
“My version of the truth,” Shaun’s close to laughing, “is the truth.” He sets his phone on the charger. “Did you want me to stay?”
Had Neil not told him that? “Yes.” He doesn’t voice the fact that everything in him, at this moment, wants Shaun here with him and nowhere else. It’s a pretty common feeling (essentially the default by now), but it’s even stronger today than it normally is, most likely due to the undeniable fact that he feels better when Shaun is nearby.
“Then I’m glad I was already staying.” Shaun moves to sit cross-legged next to Neil, who’s lying on his back in the middle of the bed. “How do you feel?” he asks, as he swipes through screens on his tablet. “If you are going to say ‘fine’, then do not bother answering.”
Neil’s pause is deliberate. “Okay.”
Shaun taps on the edge of the screen a few times, though he doesn’t seem to be doing anything except thinking. “Are you agreeing with my request, or is ‘okay’ your answer for how you feel?”
Neil starts smiling. “Yes.”
“Is being difficult making you feel better?”
Neil laughs shortly. “Among other things.” Shaun Murphy, as always, is at the top of his list.
“If you are feeling better, that means you did not feel well to begin with.” Shaun pushes some excess pillows from his side of the bed in Neil’s direction, and Neil’s not sure if he’s trying to help him get comfortable, or if it’s merely because Shaun hates having ‘an unnecessary number of pillows’. “You should try to sleep again. Morgan will not be returning to bother you.”
“Don’t invoke her name,” Neil whispers, “you’ll summon her!” He glances at the closed bedroom door for a few seconds, relaxing when she doesn’t appear. “I told you that I might be rundown from work. You know our schedules have been grueling lately. Andrews has been relentless with his demands, and we should have had this weekend off. It’s our bad luck it coincided with the conference.”
“The past few months have been difficult,” Shaun agrees. “I would like a break from optional work events.” He sets the tablet aside and retrieves his phone from the charger. “I’m going to ask Dr. Andrews if we can have a month without any obligations.”
“We, huh? So I’m in on this break?” For once in his life, Neil’s tempted not to argue with someone saying that to him. Trading in Andrews’ never-ending list of ‘requests’ for some time off with Shaun? It’s almost too perfect.
“Yes. Even if you are not sick—” Shaun’s tone reveals how much he doesn’t believe that, “—our recent work schedule is contributing to your exhaustion.”
“Don’t forget how much my residents contribute.”
Shaun’s trying not to smile as he begins his message to Andrews. “Don’t forget how much your age contributes.”
Neil pushes against Shaun’s knee in rebuke. “Since you’re asking him, why don’t you make it a year? No, make it 30 years. Tell him we don’t want to do anything except take care of our patients for the next 30 years.”
“I think a month will be difficult enough for him to accept.” Shaun pauses typing. “However, I will tell him your demand to prove I am the reasonable one.”
“Trust me, he already knows.” Neil stretches, finding it criminal that he’s having difficulty getting comfortable again when he’d managed earlier. Perhaps he’s too tired by now. “Our hospital employs hundreds of intelligent, highly-qualified, talented professionals.” Neil’s favorite among them happens to be sitting right next to him. “Marcus can ask any of our colleagues to pick up the slack.”
“We have told him that before. He says we are the best.”
“He says you’re the best, and I sometimes get included because I happen to be standing next to you.” Since Shaun’s still typing (and sitting cross-legged), Neil can’t resist draping an arm over his knee and applying the slightest pressure until he tips towards Neil.
“Do not harass me when I am trying to get time off for us,” Shaun admonishes, righting himself and ending up closer to Neil in the process.
“But if I do it enough I get my way.” He snaps his fingers and motions for Shaun’s phone.
“You get your way regardless.” Shaun finishes his message, then hands over his phone. “I should start saying ‘no’ to you more often.”
Neil has to laugh at that. “You probably should.” He reads over Shaun’s message to their boss. “This looks good, but let’s see if your mention of me causes him to say no.”
Shaun takes the phone back and hits ‘send’ without changing a word. “Why do you and Dr. Andrews fight so much?”
It’s a good question that Neil doesn’t have a great answer for. “Old work rivalries? Pettiness? Habit?” He laughs, but it’s also a sigh. “There are a lot of specific reasons, but the short answer is after he became my boss, he saw it as the ultimate leverage over me. As if no argument on my part mattered in the end because he could just order me to do whatever he wanted. He figured out pretty quickly that’s not how it works with me. I don’t exist to make his life easier, no matter how much he thinks that should be my role.”
“He cannot control you.”
“And I make sure to remind him of that regularly, as you have pointed out.”
Neil remembers Shaun had noticed it the night of their holiday gala, when Neil simply thought he was doing his level best to irritate their boss. When forced to examine his own motives, Neil had to admit that much of what he does is to remind Marcus of the fact that he will never get his way solely because his job is above Neil’s in the hospital bureaucracy. (Some people might say that means Neil is the difficult one, but those people don’t know Marcus Andrews.)
“Dr. Andrews is used to getting his way,” Shaun notes, “and so are you.”
“Which makes the perfect recipe for conflict. The fact is, Marcus thinks his title should automatically grant him my respect, but it doesn’t. He has to earn it like everyone else. It drives him insane that even though he’s my superior, he doesn’t have any real power over me like he does with everyone else. I’ve made it clear I’ll walk away if he ever pushes too far, and he can’t let that happen. Even if he’d enjoy that outcome, the board would blame him for being unable to keep the top talent in his department. They might oust him, and even if they didn’t, his chances of advancing further would be severely diminished. It’s no secret he views his current position as a stepping stone on the path to eventually becoming president of the hospital.”
Shaun’s not very happy at this hypothetical turn of events. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave, either. And I don’t plan on it.” When the younger man’s expression doesn’t change, Neil taps his fingers on Shaun’s knee with each ensuing word: “I. Don’t. Plan. On. It.” It almost surprises Neil how much he means that. It’s not like he wanted to leave before Shaun, but he would have if he felt he was out of options. Now, though? He doesn’t think Marcus could ever drive him out; Neil can’t think of a single thing that would get him to leave Shaun. (Which their boss can never know.)
“Okay,” Shaun says, a little mollified, but still far from thrilled.
“If it helps you feel better, think of it as a necessary threat that more or less gets me what I want. In the end, Marcus and I are just…stuck with each other. He copes with the situation by aggravating me in every way he possibly can.”
“You do the same to him.”
“Yes, with great pleasure.” He pinches Shaun’s knee, but not enough to hurt. “I’d appreciate you pointing out my hypocrisy less often.”
“I am sure you would,” Shaun says, and Neil pinches him again just for the tone.
“Marcus is just… He tries to avoid giving me credit for anything, if he can help it.”
“Even though you and Dr. Andrews do not get along, he knows how brilliant you are. He does not like to admit it.”
“No, he sure doesn’t.”
“I will tell you every time he won’t,” Shaun promises, leaning towards him. “You are brilliant.”
When it comes to emotions lately, Neil always feels like he’s on the verge of saying too much. It’s a real effort to keep his voice steady when he replies, “So are you, Murphy.”
“I know. I have never doubted that.”
Neil laughs, grateful for the opportunity to dispel some tension. “We’re cursed with being amazing, Shaun. It’s a heavy burden to bear, especially when it means we’re first in line for virtually every issue or problem Marcus has.”
“I do not mind assisting when I can,” Shaun says honestly, “but I do not want to do it all the time.”
“Speaking of which, did he text you back?”
Shaun picks up his phone, frowning in a way that means Neil isn’t going to like what comes next. “He wants to know why we are asking for a break when he just agreed to let us stay together, no matter what.”
Neil suppresses the automatic rise of annoyance he feels. Marcus most likely wants to negotiate. “My turn.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I’m going to tell him why he made the wrong decision.”
Shaun’s understandably worried by that answer. “He is not going to react well to that.”
Probably not. “Depends on how I word it.”
“I do not want to fight with him over this,” Shaun says, clearly anxious. “I do not want you to fight with him over it.” The friction between Neil and Marcus has always bothered Shaun, to the point that he tries to play peacemaker every time a new dispute arises.
“I understand you don’t want us to fight, but you do want a break, right?”
“Yes. I decline more things than I used to, but I cannot refuse every request from Dr. Andrews.”
That irritation with Marcus is creeping back in, under Neil’s skin. “He asks you to do twice as much as everyone else.” It’s not that Marcus can’t take a hint, it’s that he knows as long as he keeps asking, Shaun will give in a lot of the time.
Shaun does what’s asked of him with little complaint, by the deadline, and with perfect attention to detail. His solutions to problems come a lot faster (and cheaper) than they do to most others. He’s also fairly well-known in their field, so his attendance is often requested by outsiders or the board at various events. It all contributes to Marcus preferring to go to Shaun, time and time again.
“I want to help, but I cannot do everything.” Shaun’s genuinely disappointed to admit that. “I would like him to ask me less. He could ask other people, instead.”
It’s the conclusion Neil has been hoping Shaun would reach for quite some time (and Neil’s going to ensure he gets it). “Do you trust me?”
“Yes. I have never trusted anyone more than you.”
“Good.” Neil squeezes his knee, honored by (and grateful for) the trust he’s worked hard to earn. As far as he’s concerned, this is exactly how it should be—no one else is ever going to take care of Shaun the way he does. “Let me see your phone.”
Shaun very slowly hands it over. “You are going to be difficult.”
“You just said you trusted me,” Neil teases.
“I do,” Shaun says instantly. “I trust you to be difficult.”
Neil bursts out laughing at that one. “Watch it, Murphy, or I might break up with you.” Because that’s a perfectly normal ‘threat’ to make to the best friend he’s not dating.
Shaun doesn’t seem to care there’s no one around to keep up the act for, either. “No, you won’t,” he dismisses Neil’s ‘warning’. “You would miss me too much.”
Neil really is his own worst enemy. “Why do I keep telling you that?”
“Because it’s true,” Shaun laughs, sounding pretty happy about it.
“It’s true,” Neil swears. (It’s so true it terrifies him, to be honest.) “Look, I can’t promise I won’t be difficult and I can’t promise I won’t argue with Marcus. Sometimes it’s the only way forward.” It’s a truth Shaun has faced many times before, often alone. But he’s not alone anymore. “What I can promise is that when it comes to you,” Neil places his hand over his heart, “I will always make it my last resort.”
Shaun exhales slowly, seeming to accept that. “I do not like conflict.” He’s not talking about debates or disagreements or even healthy arguments—he’s talking about real conflict, complete with raised voices and harsh words and emotions like anger and hurt.
“I know you don’t like it, but it doesn’t bother me. I have no problem fighting for you, especially those times when you don’t want to.” Shaun knows that, but it seems like he needs to hear it right now. “That said, it’s highly unlikely Marcus and I are going to end up fighting over this. Don’t forget how masterful I am at negotiating.”
“You never let anyone forget,” Shaun says, and Neil can’t tell if he’s stating the truth or if it’s a subtle dig. Most likely both.
The truth is, Neil would stay out of situations like this if Shaun didn’t want him involved. (He’d hate every second of it, but he’d stay out of it.) The fact that Shaun appreciates his intervention as much as Neil enjoys intervening is just one of the many reasons they complement each other so well, and why they’ve become such close friends.
Shaun resituates himself with his tablet and Neil decides it’s too much work to sit up next to him. Instead, he tests the pillows until he finds one he can comfortably pull over his chest to prop up the phone while he types. (It doesn’t even occur to him to go searching for his own phone; he and Shaun use each other’s phones so often that most people are used to it, and their typing styles are distinct enough that everyone can tell them apart after a couple lines.)
Neil takes a minute to think of the best strategy to use with Marcus. He has to remain calm so it doesn’t turn into an argument, which might not be easy. In his opinion, if Shaun is asking for something, he should get it without question, complaint, or protest. Shaun does so much for their hospital and asks for so little in return—in a fair world, Shaun would get everything he asked for, and then some. In fact, he shouldn’t even have to ask, Marcus should be the one approaching Shaun to ask what he can do to make up for every way Shaun has gone above and beyond for their hospital.
Neil and Marcus have always clashed, and as far as Neil is concerned, Marcus can treat him however he wants. It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is how Marcus treats Shaun. When their boss pushes the younger man past his limits or demands too much of him or doesn’t listen to him, that’s when Neil lets his unhappiness be known. He chooses his battles wisely, and most of the ones that have mattered to him over the past year have centered around Shaun.
Thankfully, he ends up catching Marcus in a decent mood, and they’re able to text in real time. Neil lays out their case in a restrained and convincing manner, no matter how much he wants to lash out at their boss for daring to push back on one of the few things Shaun has ever outright asked for. After only 15 minutes of discussion, they reach an agreement: aside from anything involving their patients, he and Shaun will be released from all outside work obligations for the next two months.
Well, almost all obligations. Because that two months takes them to shortly before the spring fundraiser, and therein lies Neil’s concession in exchange: he’ll join the event planning committee. (The things he does for Shaun Murphy, he swears.)
Joke’s on Marcus, though, because Neil plans to shirk every ‘responsibility’ assigned to him. (He’ll throw them all in Morgan’s lap, along with a case of glitter.) And if he spends the majority of their meetings doing everything possible to irritate Marcus… It might not be hell on Earth, after all.
Neil sets Shaun’s phone on top of his tablet, which is currently resting in his lap. “How incredible am I, you might ask? Seeing as I got us two months off from optional work events, instead of just one, the answer you’re looking for is ‘very’. I am very incredible.”
“You are…unbelievable, yes.”
Neil’s in on the joke. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“You would,” Shaun says brightly, as he picks up the phone and scrolls through the messages Neil had exchanged with Andrews. “This conversation is calm, measured, and professional.”
“I am capable of it, Murphy.” Neil reconsiders his own claim. “When I want to be. And if you noticed, there are several times when I would have been justified to escalate things.”
Shaun’s expression darkens as he pauses at one such point in the messages. “He wants to know if you came up with the idea to ask for time off?” He turns to Neil with disbelief and a hint of growing anger. “He is suggesting you are using me to get what you want. You would never do that.”
“No, I wouldn’t. Believe it or not, Marcus knows that, too. He barely thinks about half the things he says and this is just another example in a long list. We’ve been antagonistic towards each other for so long that it’s our default mode, and as you helpfully reminded me, it’s not worth fighting over.”
“Yes, it is.” Shaun’s tone is sharp. “I do not like the way he treats you, whether it is intentional or not.”
“Come on,” Neil says, gently. “You just asked me not to start a fight, and now I’m asking you not to start one. Don’t give him a reason to try and go back on what he said. We got what we wanted from him.”
“I don’t care. You are worth defending.”
“You have no idea how much I appreciate that.” Neil turns on his side to face Shaun, who’s still sitting up next to him, and props a few pillows under his head to make the angle a little better. “But this is not a situation where it’s necessary. You don’t have to get angry because Marcus is thoughtless as a general rule.”
“Okay.” Shaun turns to face him straight on, resting his hands on his knees. “Then you don’t have to get angry when people are thoughtless with me.”
His genius resident. “You know that’s never going to happen.” He should have known Shaun would turn his suggestion around on him. “Stop using my own tactics against me.”
“That is how you learn best.”
“Are you saying the best person to sway me is…me?”
“No.” Shaun leans incrementally forward. “It is me.”
It’s so fundamentally true that Neil can’t keep arguing the point, not even in jest. “Alright,” he relents, “guess we’ll both keep getting angry, then.”
“Yes, we will,” Shaun agrees, and he’s not joking, either. “Being angry does not mean I have to let it control my actions.” It sounds like he’s trying to remind (or convince) himself.
“No, it doesn’t. That lesson took me a long time to learn. I might still be in the process, actually.” He taps Shaun’s leg. “You help a lot with that.”
There’s a faint hint of a smile on Shaun’s face, so Neil knows he’s getting through. “You help me, too,” he tells Neil, twisting his phone around in his hands. He’s not messaging Andrews, but he’s also not committed to letting go of his unhappiness.
Maybe they need to focus on something else. “Did you read to the end of the conversation?”
“I stopped when I became upset,” Shaun says in realization, as he goes back to his phone. After a minute, he stops scrolling through the messages. “You…joined the planning committee?”
“You’re looking at their newest member,” Neil confirms. “Under protest, to be sure, but it’s official. Well, as official as Marcus makes it.” He’ll probably get an honorary plaque just so Marcus can force him to accept physical proof he did something he previously swore he’d never do.
“You hate that committee.” Shaun’s at a complete loss. “You hate all committees.”
“All committees are terrible,” Neil says, shrugging at the truth of it. “You know Marcus. He wanted something from me, and the more I dislike that ‘something’, the more he feels he’s gotten the better end of the deal. I did add a stipulation that I’ll only attend meetings which happen during our shifts, so it won’t interfere with our time off.”
“You did not have to do any of that,” Shaun tells him. He doesn’t add ‘for me’ at the end, but Neil hears it all the same.
“I did, actually, because it’s worth the outcome. We’re both getting time off, remember?” Shaun nods, more at ease after that reminder. “As you can see from his other suggestions, the planning committee was the least terrible idea of the ones he proposed.”
Neil had roundly rejected taking over the mentorship program for new doctors, as well as heading up the community outreach committee. Marcus had intentionally led with the options he knew Neil would hate the most in order to make the planning committee look more palatable. Neil knew what he was doing and let it happen, anyways—that’s how well it worked. (Marcus might be transparent but he’s as skilled at negotiating as Neil.)
“Are you certain you’re fine with it?” Shaun asks.
“I’m more than fine.” He’d do a lot more than this for his resident. “Truthfully, Shaun, I don’t think it’ll be that bad. I’ll complain a lot, and infuriate Marcus as much as possible, and make Morgan do all the tasks assigned to me. There’s a lot to look forward to.”
“You should not have Morgan do all your work.”
“But you know how much I enjoy that!” When Shaun shakes his head, Neil tries to think of another alternative. “How about I order you to do it, instead?”
“Or we could do it together,” Shaun counters, and coming from anyone else, that would be a truly horrific suggestion—but as Neil has known for a while now, Shaun has a remarkable ability to get him to enjoy anything. “We will have more free time over the next two months,” Shaun adds, coming to a decision. “I will join the planning committee with you.”
“Hold on, I love the offer, but didn’t you want time off?” Neil’s resistant for that reason only. “Doesn’t joining a new committee defeat the point? I know the meetings aren’t a huge time commitment, but they’ll expect you to do things. I plan to pawn all my tasks off on others, but you will want to do them. To the best of your ability.”
“Yes, I will,” Shaun says cheerfully, with a real smile. “I like planning events.”
That’s right. Shaun loves anything and everything to do with planning. The more neat and orderly he can make something, the better. (Neil’s life has become so organized over the past year that he often doesn’t recognize it.)
He wants to make certain Shaun knows what he’s getting into, though. “You sure about this, Murphy? Once they have a hold of you, they’ll never let you go…” Which is exactly how Neil feels about Shaun, come to think of it.
“I have always wanted to join the planning committee,” Shaun reveals, in a rare instance of surprising Neil. “I have been too busy. I did not have enough time to volunteer and Dr. Andrews never asked me.”
“You should have told him.” Neil wishes he’d known this a while ago. “Andrews would have swapped it in place of something you liked less. I mean, you do realize this is going to make him even happier, right?” The thought is almost unbearable. "On that basis alone, I don’t know if I can support it.”
Shaun completely ignores Neil’s (well-reasoned) protest. “If I am happy, and so is Dr. Andrews, and so is the committee, and so are you…”
“My genius resident,” Neil murmurs, as Shaun beams at him. “Everyone wins. How do you do it?”
“We did it,” Shaun emphasizes. “You devised the plan and I perfected it by ensuring no one suffers.”
“Wait a second,” Neil says, suspicious. “It’s almost like you’re suggesting I’m the one who’d make them suffer.” Though that had been Neil’s exact plan…
“They will never survive you without me,” Shaun says, gravely enough that he must be joking. (Then again, he might not be.)
“That is the best compliment you’ve given me today.”
Shaun is almost done reading the messages when he breaks out into a smile. “Dr. Andrews thinks your love for me is selfless?”
“Yes, joining the committee is ‘proof’ of that, according to him. He might be right.”
“You have never told me that.”
“That my love for you is selfless? Well, now you know.”
“No. You have never told me you love me.”
The claim makes so little sense that Neil has to replay it a couple times. “That cannot be true,” he automatically denies, even as he’s trying to remember. He and Shaun have been close friends for over a year now, best friends (‘official’ or not) for maybe half of that. Has he really never said…
“It is true,” Shaun informs him. “You have told other people you love me. You have told me how much you care about me. Your actions indicate that you love me. All of the evidence led me to that conclusion. But you have never said it to me.”
He’s starting to realize Shaun’s right. The affection between them has always been evident, not only to them but to everyone around them. It simply hadn’t occurred to Neil that it was something he should be affirming out loud. He can remember plenty of times he thought it, but none where he said it directly to Shaun. If anything, he’d always been too careful about what he said, worried that Shaun might think Neil cared for him too much for people who were simply friends.
And somehow, in the process of being cautious, he’d never told Shaun he loved him at all.
“You do not have to say it.” Shaun’s voice startles Neil into realizing he never replied. “There are reasons people do not say it. I never said it because…you never did.” Shaun sounds regretful now. “I should not have—”
“I love you,” Neil interrupts, knowing it’s wholly inadequate to make up for all the instances he should have said it before. “You’re my best friend and I love you. I’m sorry I never told you.”
Shaun’s quiet for a moment, taking that in. “I already knew,” he says again. “You tell me in many different ways.” He hesitates before admitting, “I still like hearing it.”
“I know.” It’s all the more reason Neil’s sorry he didn’t say it before now. He’s glad, at least, that Shaun had been aware of it, and he can make up for the oversight from now on. “I love you.”
“Yes. You do.”
“I love you,” Neil repeats slowly. “And…?”
“And…?”
“You didn’t say it because I hadn’t yet. Well, if I’m not mistaken, I just did…”
“I might love you.” Shaun’s amusement gives away what he’s doing. “I will think about it and let you know.”
“I should have known you were going to make me pay for this.” He’s debating ways to get Shaun to cave when the universe derails his plans, as per usual. This time it comes in the form of his phone buzzing somewhere behind him. His phone that he couldn’t find earlier. “Saved by the bell, Murphy. Or rather, my phone.”
“I never need saving from you,” Shaun assures him, as Neil turns over to find his phone is charging on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. He certainly didn’t put it there, which means Shaun must have during the brief window he was asleep. He’s tempted to ignore it, but… He really should check in case it’s something urgent.
After grabbing it, he resettles back on the bed and opens the text from Audrey: Put us all out of our misery and marry Shaun this weekend, would you? Also, I might have money on this, so don’t let me down.
What is wrong with everyone they know? Neil’s beginning to suspect—with good reason—that no one is going to allow him and Shaun to ‘break up’ when they try to stage one. Their friends are too invested in their relationship. Way too invested. They’d probably stage an intervention to ‘get them back together’. Or force them into couple’s counseling.
The thought of having to endure counseling sessions to ‘repair’ their fake relationship after they pretend to break up… It’s exactly the kind of bizarre situation he and Shaun would find themselves in.
Shaun won’t even tell me he loves me, he writes back to Audrey. I don’t think he’s ready for marriage.
“Who is it?” Shaun leans over, so Neil tips his phone to let Shaun read his messages. To his disappointment, Shaun doesn’t take the bait, merely returning to his own phone without comment.
Audrey, of course, has already sent Neil a dozen texts about how he better be joking, and even if he is, she hates his sense of humor.
Then she relays the message Shaun just sent her: Neil has to earn it.
“Seriously?” Neil asks him, as Shaun smiles down at his phone, where he’s still typing. “I joined the planning committee for you!”
“That is a point in your favor, yes.”
“A point? As in a single point? It should be a thousand!”
“Join one thousand committees.”
Arguing with Shaun is so much more fun than it has any right to be.
Audrey’s still texting him, having done a complete 180: now she says they better not get married because if she’s not present at said event, she’s going to make them do it all over again. Neil feels no guilt swiping all her messages away without replying.
Unfortunately, now that he has his phone, he’s reminded of the emails waiting to be answered. He got a few new ones in the last half hour, too. If his phone was still ‘missing’ he’d feel justified in putting off the task for a while longer, but his conscience won’t let him do it now. Truly dire issues will merit a phone call, but his colleagues regularly email him about time-sensitive issues, so he has to at least check his new emails. He won’t take the risk of missing anything when it comes to his patients (or anyone else’s, for that matter).
“Three new emails since I last checked,” he tells Shaun. “That’s 28 new emails since we got off the plane. Twenty. Eight. Everyone needs to leave me alone!” Neil shakes his phone, but it’s to no avail when none of the emails disappear. “I was hoping to have some free time this weekend to reply to the backlog, as well.” Though now that he’s blinking at his phone screen, Neil isn’t confident he can read even one of them without his body turning on him completely. A vaguely ill feeling is settling in, most likely due to being overtired.
Shaun steals the phone right from his hands, taking advantage of Neil’s delayed reflexes. “You should not be doing this now. You should be resting.”
Neil stares at his empty hands, taking too long to register what happened. “Did you just…” He supposes there’s no point finishing the sentence when they both saw it happen.
Shaun’s already scrolling through his inbox. “I will go through them. It will save you time and you won’t have to look at the screen or type anything.”
“I don’t know, Shaun. That sounds like what someone who loves me would do.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Aren’t you clever. Saying it without saying it, so I can’t call it a win.” As usual, despite his complaints, Neil’s still impressed. Shaun is a master at ‘technically’ winning, and it’s usually Neil he’s besting. “Thank you, for the emails. You know I’d never ask you to do that, but it helps me a lot.”
Shaun hums something like agreement. “You rarely ask me to do anything for you.”
“Because it’s not your job. You enjoy reminding me you’re not my personal assistant.”
“I tell you I am not your assistant when you order me to do outlandish things, usually in an attempt at being humorous.”
“An attempt at being humorous? You don't have to insult me.”
“I’m not insulting you. I am describing recent events.”
“I’ve warned you… You’re brave to be disrespectful when you’re so close to me.”
Shaun looks down at him. “You are brave to threaten me when I’m helping you.”
“I take it back,” Neil says quickly. “Don’t forget I love you.”
Shaun smiles at that, as he continues scrolling through Neil’s never-ending emails. “Eight of the new emails require an immediate response. I can answer five on my own. Three need a response dictated by you.”
Just like that, it only takes eight minutes for Shaun to read him the emails and write Neil’s replies.
“I’ll sort through the backlog as well,” Shaun offers. “If you will—”
“Sleep,” Neil interjects, confidently enough that Shaun sends him a censuring glance.
“Rest.”
“Oh yeah, sure.” Neil playfully rolls his eyes. “That’s what you were going to say.”
Shaun sets a hand on Neil’s forehead, and Neil completely loses his train of thought. Shaun might be talking to him.
Sure enough, Shaun’s looking at him expectantly, and Neil has no idea why. “…What?”
“A fever,” Shaun says, like that explains everything, and removes his hand.
Neil’s still lost. He feels his own forehead, and it’s definitely too warm. Maybe? “I…have one?”
“No, I said you do not have a fever, but you could develop one later. Are you unable to follow our conversation? Should I administer some cognitive tests?”
He doesn’t think Shaun’s kidding. “No, I was…distracted.”
Shaun accepts that without comment, setting his hands on either side of Neil’s neck, and Neil can’t help it when he starts laughing. “Stop.” Shaun pushes on his shoulder. “When you move, it makes this difficult.”
“I’m ticklish,” Neil protests. “Also, you’re being very endearing right now. Are you giving me a check-up?”
“I am checking—” He stops when Neil opens his mouth, about to claim victory. “I am examining you for any signs of infection.”
“Have you found any?”
“Nothing definitive.” Shaun takes hold of his wrist to take his pulse, and Neil watches him, trying to remember if anyone outside of his immediate family has ever cared for him the way Shaun does. (He doesn’t think so.) “I made you an appointment with your primary physician,” Shaun adds. “You’re past due for your physical.”
“Which was on purpose, I assure you.”
“You cannot argue,” Shaun tells him. “You said you would take better care of yourself. That includes the recommended well visits for your age.”
“You always say that like I’m pushing 80, Shaun.”
“You are past 40. There are screenings that you are overdue for.”
Neil rubs a hand over his eyes. “You scheduled them didn’t you.”
“They’re in your calendar.” Shaun finishes with his pulse and lets go of his wrist, but Neil takes his hand before he can move on to whatever he’d been planning next; this will go on all night if Neil lets it, and Shaun eventually will get to those cognitive tests.
“Hey,” he says softly, “I love the way that you care. But you can trust me when I tell you I’m okay.”
Shaun looks at him for a few long seconds. “You have to tell me the truth about this,” he warns, with a painful undercurrent of desperation. “If you ever learn something is wrong and do not tell me, I will never forgive you.”
Neil’s heart sinks, because he knows exactly where Shaun’s coming from, and it’s something Neil will never be able to fix for him. “Not telling you about his cancer, early on, is one of the biggest regrets of Aaron’s life. He’ll always be sorry for how much he hurt you.” Neil runs his thumb over the back of Shaun’s hand. “I am never going to repeat his mistake.”
Shaun accepts the promise without question, though he decides to add a stipulation. “You will go to every medical appointment I make for you.”
“Yes, I will.” It’s only fair he adds a stipulation back. “I’m going to complain every step of the way, though.”
“I would expect nothing less.” Shaun says, corner of his mouth turning up, so Neil counts it as a silent victory. “Your terms are acceptable. I will stop examining you.” He must rethink that open-ended promise. “For now.”
“I’ll take better care of myself and you’ll try to worry about me less. That’s the deal. Do you see how those two things…” Neil lifts their joined hands, because the visual is too perfect. “Go hand in hand?”
“Yes,” Shaun says, without inflection. “You are very clever.”
“This is great,” Neil encourages. “Keep complimenting me. It’s making me forget how tired I am.”
“Sleeping would also cause you to forget how tired you are.” Shaun pulls away, but it’s only so he can grab the spare blanket from the foot of the bed and throw it in Neil’s direction.
“No,” Neil’s voice is muffled while he claws his way out from under the blanket, “I like the compliments better. What are some other wonderful things about me? Provide as much detail as you need.”
The light in Shaun’s eyes means he has a good answer. “Everyone thinks you’re dating me.”
“The first compliment you think of revolves around you?” Neil tries to scoff, but it’s difficult when he’s having this much fun. “And you say I’m arrogant.”
“You are.” Shaun’s tone is unapologetic. “And you have said that I make you look good.”
“You do.” Sometimes he thinks Shaun makes him good, full stop. “Why do you think I keep you around?”
“You have no choice,” Shaun says lightly, which could be a promise, or a threat. Or both. (Neil doesn’t care, as long as he’s here.)
“I might like having no choice,” Neil says. What he means is, you better not go anywhere on me, ever.
“Go to sleep.”
Neil lets some suspicion into his tone. “I feel like you want me asleep so you won’t have to deal with me.”
“I want you to feel better,” Shaun insists. “Even if it means I will be deprived of your company.”
Neil rearranges the blanket over himself, and he doesn’t want to jinx it, but he might be starting to get comfortable again. “You,” he tells Shaun firmly, “are all I need to feel better.”
“I love you, too,” Shaun says, not like he’s declaring something, but like it’s a perfectly normal response to what Neil said.
“I can’t believe you made me wait!” Neil tries to throw the blanket back at him, but it doesn’t really work because he’d already spread it out too much.
“You made me wait,” Shaun points out, and unfortunately, Neil can’t argue that. “Are you…trying to cover me with the blanket?”
“Agh, forget it.” Neil’s glad to stop wrestling with it, since it’s not exactly helping with his exhaustion. “I’ll get back at you later. When it takes less effort.”
“Okay.” Shaun doesn’t seem all that afraid. “I will still love you.”
“Careful, I might take that as a challenge. How far can I push you before you leave me?” Because that’s another completely normal thing to say when they aren’t together in the first place.
Shaun, at least, doesn’t seem to find it unusual. “You will never push me that far.”
“You know if I did, I’d just follow you, anyways.” And maybe threatening to stalk Shaun isn’t the best way to keep him, but Neil would definitely go that far if it worked.
“I know,” Shaun says quietly, with a smile. He leans over a little to look down at Neil. “Please try to get some rest.”
‘Okay,’ Neil mouths, letting Shaun know he’s won.
When Shaun returns to his tablet, Neil lets his eyes fall shut and listens to the steady breathing next to him. It makes him think about how everything is better with Shaun right next to him. (Whether he hates it or loves it, with Shaun it’s better.)
Meetings. Errands. Surgeries. Conferences. Traveling. Fundraisers. Sitting at home on his couch.
This moment, right now.
Neil had enjoyed cleaning out his closets with Shaun. It gives him fairly high confidence they’ll even manage to have fun on the event planning committee. (What has his life become?)
As he drifts off to sleep, Neil’s last thought is that he might not want to be in Las Vegas, but there’s also no place else he’d rather be.
Chapter 16
Notes:
I was trying to get this posted by Valentine's Day, and I only missed it by a few days! So my basic goal from here on out is how many milestones can I throw at them while they're still in this 'fake' relationship? Will they be married and living in the suburbs with three adopted children before it dawns on them??? If anyone could do it, I could do it...but I promise I won't take things quite that far in this story. Most likely.
I'm so happy to hear I'm driving many of you insaaaaane with their obliviousness, and fair warning, you'll get a lot more of it in this story, but they're on their way to figuring things out. This isn't too far from the ending (famous last words for me), but I have a few more major things I have to get in first. Thank you, everyone, for the kind words and encouragement, it always keeps me going! <3 <3 <3
(I don't title my chapters, but if I did, this one would be 8:02 pm, Pacific Standard Time.)
Chapter Text
There’s something strange going on and Neil can’t figure it out.
(He doesn’t know who to blame for that yet, but he’s thinking Reznick, because why not?)
He and Shaun have been at the welcome dinner for about a half hour, greeting people, making the rounds, and catching up with colleagues who live and work elsewhere around the country. The social events of the weekend are actually more important than anything else, since they usually involve doing Andrews’ bidding in some way or another, and the same is true tonight.
Their boss had given them a list of people he wanted them to talk to for various reasons: recruiting talent to St. Bonaventure; securing funding or donations; promoting their programs; offering partnerships in research… The list is endless. (Neil tried to give the entire thing to Morgan, but both his residents had vociferously protested that one; Shaun in the name of fairness and Morgan in the name of not wanting to do everything herself.)
Luckily for Neil, he’s been doing this for so many years that he could play the role in his sleep, and with Shaun next to him, he barely has to do that much. Shaun knows he doesn’t feel well, so he’s picking up most of the slack conversation-wise, and Neil helps compensate for it by lending the support of his presence. His very close presence. Shaun always does better in social situations when he’s nearby (and Neil knew that before Shaun told him how much he liked it).
Okay, maybe he’s not staying close just for Shaun. But it’s hardly his fault he’s suffering from some mysterious ailment that magically gets better whenever Shaun is within touching distance—or preferably just touching him, outright. It’s some kind of evolutionary thing, isn’t it? Neil’s certain he read that somewhere (or more likely, Shaun told him). It’s not uncommon for people to seek out others when they’re hurt or don’t feel well, an instinctive desire for comfort and protection. Not that Neil’s in any way inclined to see if the theory holds true when he’s close to anyone else. (He knows it won’t.)
Maybe Shaun’s equally aware of it tonight, since he sets his glass of water on the nearest table and moves closer under the guise of adjusting Neil’s tie. He’s actually trying to determine if Neil’s okay without asking him out loud, since they don’t need the scrutiny from the group they’re supposedly conversing with (everyone’s mostly talking around them, at this point).
“You really miss wearing a tie, Murphy?” Neil’s tone is light as Shaun ‘straightens’ it for him. “I’ll happily lend you this one. Say the word.”
Shaun tugs on it sharply, just for that. “I do not want your tie. Or any tie.” He must think it’s not quite enough protest. “I hate ties.”
“You do? I had no idea.” Neil grins at him when Shaun pulls too hard on it again. “Alright, I might vaguely recall you saying something to that effect, once upon a time.”
Neil had spearheaded the campaign for Shaun to ditch ties entirely, and with his encouragement, Shaun has mostly abandoned them since the night of their holiday gala. He’s only worn a few on formal occasions since, and if Neil has his way, Shaun will eventually agree to give them up forever. Nothing that bothers him so much is worth wearing for ten minutes, let alone hours on end.
But Neil still regularly wears them (he’s never giving up something that makes him look that good) and Shaun is forever trying to ‘fix’ them. He lets Shaun readjust his tie for another 20 seconds before bringing a hand up to rest on both of Shaun’s. “I’m okay,” he says, only loud enough for Shaun to hear. “Are you okay?”
Shaun’s fingers curl around the fabric, but he says nothing.
“No is an acceptable answer,” Neil reminds him. Shaun’s quiet as he slowly releases Neil’s tie, though he doesn’t back away because Neil’s still holding onto his hands.
“I’m okay,” Shaun finally answers, and maybe it’s true, but there’s something so unhappy in it that Neil won’t let him go. They stay like that until Shaun does pull away, but only so he can move to Neil’s side, linking their arms. It’s a much better way to stand, Neil realizes—his resident really is a genius.
The people they’re chatting with (who have switched topics about five times since he and Shaun stopped participating in the discussion) ask if they want to join them at a table for dinner, but Shaun shakes his head, so Neil politely declines for them both. Eating (and drinking) seem unappealing at the moment, which Neil doesn’t say out loud, but Shaun can probably tell.
It’s a shame, too, because there are a variety of themed serving stations situated throughout the resort’s grand hall so guests can eat whenever they want without interrupting the flow of the evening. It’s much better than having a sit-down dinner, so he’ll have to suggest it to Marcus for their spring fund– oh God no, he’s already planning it? He only agreed to join the committee four hours ago!
Neil pushes all thoughts of event planning from his mind and thinks back over the group conversation that had just taken place. Or rather, what little of it he’d paid attention to (Shaun always gives him the most important details, so he’s never too worried). A few remarks from the others had reminded Neil of the question nagging at him since they arrived. People are acting…Neil’s not sure how to describe it. They’re just different than usual. To his growing frustration, he can’t pinpoint why or even how. They’ll say things that don’t seem to make sense, but before Neil can figure it out, the conversation moves on.
Or maybe his own mind is messing with him. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He stands up straighter (wow, he forgot how terrible that is), about to let go of Shaun’s arm so they can face each other, but the younger man protests by tightening his own arm around Neil’s, so he abandons the idea.
“Have you noticed anything different tonight?” Neil asks, as Shaun relaxes once he realizes he won and Neil isn’t going anywhere. “Have other people been acting strange?”
“I do not know what you mean by ‘strange’.”
“I don’t either,” Neil admits. “That’s the problem.” He’s trying to figure out how to explain when he doesn’t know what he’s trying to explain. “Are people acting odd? Saying things that don’t make sense?”
“People often say things that don’t make sense,” Shaun shrugs, matter of fact. “I have been aware of that my whole life and have learned to ignore it.”
Neil sighs in sympathy, leaning on Shaun. He tells himself it’s for Shaun, but maybe it’s for him. “I know what you mean, but I’m talking about something else. Tonight people seem…off to me. Unless it’s me that’s off?”
“I am still not sure what you mean,” Shaun admits, turning more towards him so he can brush his free hand over Neil’s forehead. “How do you feel?”
“Better than earlier. I’m still tired, but the nap definitely helped.” He’d slept almost three hours, which was unusual (and not a great sign). “My head’s a little fuzzy, but it also might be from the nap.”
“You are slightly warm.” Shaun’s frowning at him. “The medicine I gave you should lower any fever.” He’d handed Neil some sort of cold & flu mixture before they came downstairs. Neil hadn’t been convinced he needed it, but ultimately decided it couldn’t hurt (and besides, taking it made Shaun happy).
“So I probably do have a fever,” Neil continues Shaun’s thought, “and it should be higher.”
“Yes,” Shaun says, newfound concern seeping into his voice. He steps away to get the glass of water he’d set down a few minutes back, but instead of keeping it for himself, he offers it to Neil. “You should drink this.”
Neil’s already shaking his head to refuse. “I’m fine.”
“You have not had anything to eat or drink since we got here.”
“Which was only a half hour ago,” Neil points out. He really doesn’t want it, but Shaun’s still holding out the glass. “Is this an official doctor’s order?”
Shaun looks at him for a long moment. “It would make me feel better if you drank it.”
Neil stares at him right back. “That is not fair to do to me, Murphy.”
“I am not trying to be fair. I’m trying to get you to drink some water.”
Neil takes a sip just to appease his overly concerned resident, and it’s not as awful as he was dreading. “Happy?”
“Not yet. You should finish it.”
Neil might complain, but he knows Shaun’s right, so he drinks some more. “Have you ever noticed that you hover when I’m not feeling well?”
“Yes.” He lifts a hand like he’s going to take hold of Neil’s tie again, but stops himself before he can. “You do it, too.”
Neil knows he does and he’s never been able to help it. “Think we should work on that?” He swirls the water, ice clinking against the glass.
Shaun fidgets, clearly unhappy, but resigned to it now. “Okay.”
“Wrong answer.” Neil finishes the water, setting the glass back on the table, and relaxes at the way Shaun’s expression gets lighter.
“Hovering is another thing that makes me feel better,” his resident admits, as if Neil didn’t just see it play out in front of his eyes.
“You don’t need a reason to be near me.” He takes Shaun’s arm to draw him back to his side. “Or an invitation, for that matter.” To think that all this time, Neil had worried that he was the one who liked it too much. “If having you closer means you’ll feel better and worry less, I’m all for it.” (He’s all for it no matter what, to be honest.)
“I cannot promise I’ll worry less,” Shaun warns him, the same as earlier. “I will try.”
“It’s all I ask.”
Shaun laughs shortly, turning to fully face him. “It is not all you ask.”
“Fine, maybe not.” He smiles when Shaun allows himself to fix his tie again. Maybe it really is crooked this time. “At least I’m reasonable, though, right?”
“Yes,” Shaun admits, like the fact pains him. “You are reasonable, even when I don’t like it.”
Neil can’t hide his amusement at that description. “Want me to be unreasonable?”
Shaun slides his hands out from Neil’s tie to rest on his shoulders. “Would I be able to tell the difference?”
Neil laughs sharply at the question. “You always need the last word, don’t you?”
“You fight me for it every time.”
Neil laughs again, pressing his forehead to Shaun’s shoulder and sliding an arm around his waist so he can pull him into a real hug instead of the almost a hug they were stuck in before. Shaun easily returns the embrace and they stay like that for longer than they normally would. Shaun likes it, and Neil doesn’t feel great, and something in him just wants to stay like this.
“Everything I do,” Neil says, when he forces himself to move back so he can look at Shaun, “including the things you don’t like, are because I want you to be okay.”
“I know.” Shaun’s eyes are smiling. “That is why you’re my best friend.”
“Great answer,” Neil says, approvingly. “Now come talk strategy with me.”
“We did that before dinner,” Shaun protests, but allows Neil to steer him toward the wall a few yards away. Neil leans against it, pulling Shaun next to him so they can both keep an eye on the crowd. Shaun links their arms, copying the position they’d been in earlier. (Neil had been a fan of it, too.)
“Not strategy for getting through Andrews’ list,” Neil explains, “strategy for figuring out why people are acting strange.”
“If someone says something you find odd, ask them to explain.”
“I tried a couple times,” Neil tells him, shrugging, “but then I didn’t know what to ask, or how to say it, and the conversation moved on.”
“Tell them they are not making sense and keep asking for an explanation until they give you one.”
Neil leans into him, smiling. “Ever hear of subtlety, Murphy?”
“Yes. I hate it.”
Neil laughs at the bluntness of his answer and tries to set the mystery aside for now. He does want to try and enjoy tonight’s dinner—as much as he ever can enjoy work events, especially feeling like he does. His best shot at a good evening is remaining by Shaun’s side.
It’s a new and strange feeling for Neil—not when it comes to Shaun, because he’s always felt like that around his resident—but when it comes to the relationships he’s had in his life. The last time Neil wasn’t ‘alone’, back when he was with Jessica, it was never like this. Being with her at events had only caused Neil more stress. More frustration. More work. He’d had to fill the role of perfect fiancé, especially with her family, and it wasn’t until it was over that he realized how much it truly bothered him. He’d despised it.
When it comes to his personal life, Neil doesn’t want to play a role ever again.
(He thinks to himself while playing a role.)
There’s some cosmic irony that Neil feels more like himself while pretending to be with Shaun than he did while he was actually with Jessica. Shaun doesn’t have some preconceived notion of how he wants Neil to act; he doesn’t expect Neil to play the experienced surgeon or the perfect partner.
Shaun doesn’t want anything from him except him.
So Neil might be openly playing a role, but it just…it doesn’t feel the same.
And he swears Shaun has experienced that same disconnect: when the realities of who they are and who they’re pretending to be sharply collide, and it takes one or both of them a moment to snap out of it and remember which reality they’re supposed to be living in.
Neil has noticed it more lately, even has a working theory about it—but it’s a theory for a reason. He has no proof either way. In any case, it’s too much for him to dwell on right now, while he’s not feeling well and Shaun is more anxious than usual—both of those things made worse by being at an event with hundreds of people.
At least they have each other, which always mitigates the worst of everything else. The dinner is a great distraction from his vague-maybe-illness and Neil really does like catching up with people he hasn’t seen in months, or even years, in some cases.
They aren’t planning to stay at the dinner all night, though it will likely go until 1 or 2 am—or perhaps later, judging by how long people tend to linger at these events. He and Shaun will stay long enough to catch up with people and fulfill Andrews’ list of obligations before leaving. Neil’s ambitious (and optimistic) goal is to be back upstairs and in bed by 11.
The dinner had officially started at 7, but the hall was open all afternoon, hosting some of the activities Neil and Shaun skipped. Neil had taken his time getting ready tonight, so they’d arrived late to the dinner, but in his defense it wasn’t because he was trying to make any sort of point. He just felt out of it after sleeping so late in the afternoon (as he predicted might happen) and he hadn’t been in any hurry to get downstairs and face the crowd.
Shaun hadn’t harassed Neil about making them late tonight, probably because he wanted Neil to attend the dinner even less than Neil wanted to, a truly astonishing feat. Shaun had said (five times) that if Neil wanted to skip it, he should stay upstairs and Shaun could go alone. After Neil gently refused (five times), Shaun offered to stay with him if Neil preferred.
How tempting that offer had been. It took real willpower for Neil to force himself to turn that down.
But no, they had a job to do, whether they liked it or not. They’d gone through the hassle of getting to Las Vegas in the first place, and traveling is never easy, especially for Shaun. Neil simply couldn’t justify saying he wasn’t up to attending the dinner. Feeling ‘off’ isn’t enough of an excuse to ignore his obligations, no matter how much he wishes it were.
In the end, there was no real choice about how the evening would go. Neil wasn’t making Shaun skip the dinner to stay with him, and there was no way he was letting Shaun attend it without him.
(“You cannot make every decision based upon how it affects me,” Shaun had actually tried to argue.
“Watch me,” had been Neil’s final counter.)
He and Shaun are both popular among their peers, and being ‘together’ seems to have magnified the effect exponentially. Morgan likes to mockingly call them celebrities, which is a disturbingly accurate analogy, as much as Neil hates to admit it. He and Shaun are among the most well-known in their field, and it’s a fact of life Neil has had to accept, no matter how often he resents it—namely due to the lack of peace it gives him. It’s next to impossible to find a quiet space to be left alone. He and Shaun have tried that at basically every event they’ve ever attended, but it always fails after a while. People find them.
So no, there’s no way Neil would ever send Shaun into the chaos of a dinner like this alone. Shaun would ultimately get through it fine, but he’d be miserable and stressed the entire time. He’d be wrapped up in the pressure of finishing Andrews’ list alone, while also weathering his usual discomfort at being around this many people—people who believe that merely being acquainted with Shaun in a professional manner gives them license to treat him as a long lost best friend.
Neil knows their colleagues don’t mean any harm, but they don’t understand Shaun. If he were here without Neil, he’d have to fend them off alone, which is a constant job at an event like this. Since they’re not back home, with friends and plenty of people they know well, Shaun wouldn’t have anyone to help him if he needed it. (Unless they count Morgan, who isn’t completely inept, but her standard method of ‘helping Shaun’ usually involves getting Neil, which is difficult to accomplish if Neil isn’t there.)
It’s better if they’re together at events like this—and they’ve had to fight for that. It’s going to take a lot more than not feeling well for Neil to give it up now (or ever?). So he’ll enjoy their last few minutes of peace before returning to the crowd (if someone doesn’t find them before then).
The very thought jinxes it because that’s when Jacob Donovan wanders over to them, drink in hand. The other man is a neurosurgeon based in Washington and Neil has kept up a long-distance friendship with him since med school.
“Hey, you two,” Jake cheerfully greets them, “trying to hide over here?”
“We are not hiding,” Shaun claims. “We are in plain sight.”
“Kind of behind all these people,” Donovan waves at the tables around them, half of which are full of guests dining, “up against the wall, where the lighting isn’t that great… But sure, you’re not hiding.”
Neil grins at the accurate assessment. “We obviously chose a poor spot if you managed to find us.”
“Drinking keeps my eyesight sharp,” Donovan jokes, motioning between them with his glass. “How’ve you been?”
“We’ve been great,” Neil answers, for both himself and Shaun, and he’s surprised to realize how much he means it; he doesn’t just give a polite non-answer to that question anymore. “How about you?”
“Same as ever. Work, work, and more work. I’m sorry, it’s been a while since we last spoke. I’ve been so busy and everything else gets left by the wayside, but I’m trying to do better.”
“You’re trying to talk to people more?” Neil’s horrified enough that Jake starts laughing. “I can’t believe I’m friends with someone who would do such a thing.”
“Yes, Neil, some of us like being social,” he says, much too merrily, and takes a sip of his drink. “How long has it been? A couple months?”
“Sounds about right. It was shortly after the holidays, I think.”
“You called on January 19th,” Shaun tells Jake, shifting his stance when Neil decides to lean more on him. (All this standing is taxing, even if Neil does have the wall for additional support.) “You were visiting your parents for the weekend and wanted to have lunch, but we were working.”
“Your memory never ceases to amaze me.” Donovan’s impressed, but not surprised. (The other man’s well aware of how incredible Shaun is because most people are aware of that. Also, Neil might talk about it all the time. With everyone he knows.)
“That is how my mind works.” Shaun really doesn’t take credit for things outside of his control. “You should be amazed when people expend effort to achieve something.”
Donovan shakes his head, still in amazement, but now at Shaun’s response instead.
“Is he not the best person you’ve ever met?” Neil asks, as Donovan smiles behind his drink.
“I used to think it was hyperbole when you said stuff like that,” he tips his glass at Neil, “but I’m starting to see what you mean.”
“What do you mean?” Shaun asks Neil, not following their change in topic.
“That you are…” Neil ponders the best way to describe it, “…fundamentally good.”
“I am not perfect,” Shaun protests.
“I didn’t say perfect.” Though in Neil’s eyes, he might be as close as a person can get. “I said good.” Shaun still looks about to argue, so he explains, “You always try to make the best decisions you can. The most fair. The most beneficial, that will cause the least harm. I try to be like you.” Well…that’s a lot of truth to admit at once, but he’s not taking it back.
“No.” Shaun’s shaking his head for some reason. “You are my example, so I cannot be yours.”
“Why not?” Neil challenges, even as Shaun’s words make his entire chest feel tight. Shaun will forever view him in a light he doesn’t deserve, and it makes him want to stay in it. To live up to it. “Why can’t we be a good influence on each other?”
Shaun hums thoughtfully at the way Neil worded it. “That makes sense,” he agrees, pushing slightly against Neil’s shoulder in acknowledgement, and the move causes Neil to realize he’s leaning more heavily on his resident than he was before. It doesn’t make him stop, though.
“I saw Morgan earlier,” Donovan says, apropos of nothing, which surprises Neil into remembering the other man’s (apparently) still a part of this conversation. “She was right about you two, huh?”
“Reznick’s wrong about everything,” Neil says automatically, as Shaun nudges him again, this time in chastisement.
“Not about this. She said you two are as ridiculous as ever.” He’s on the verge of laughter. “Now I see how right she was—and on that note, I was really happy to hear about you two.”
Neil’s completely lost on the turn in the conversation. “What did you hear?”
“Oh sure, good one!” Jake laughs (and does everyone think Neil’s every word is sarcastic by default? It seems that way). “I’m very happy for you both,” he continues, “but just between us—and everyone who’s ever met you—it took you long enough.”
Neil murmurs to Shaun, “This is the kind of thing I meant.”
Shaun glances at him, then turns back to Jake. “What took us long enough?” he asks, and oh right, Neil could have done that, but his first thought had been to tell Shaun.
Donovan pauses for a few seconds, a tell of his confusion. “Deciding to get married, of course.”
Neil expects a punchline, but there isn’t one. Donovan’s serious and he’s waiting for a response. It doesn’t make any sense. “Where did you hear that?”
“From a few people,” the other man claims, which makes less sense. “You’re one of the main topics of conversation tonight—you usually are, but even more so now. Everyone’s talking about your engagement, wondering how long you kept it secret, who you’re going to invite to the wedding…”
“What?” Neil thinks briefly about alternate universes. Maybe he and Shaun somehow fell into one.
“How do I get on the guest list?” Donovan’s only half-joking. “I give spectacular gifts! You know I finally got an air fryer—it has changed my life.”
“Neil recently bought one,” Shaun tells him, which is an interesting way of saying Neil had come home to find it in his kitchen two weeks ago. “They’re very convenient.”
“Aren’t they revolutionary?” Donovan raves. “I made this phenomenal—”
Neil snaps his fingers between them. “Hey, you two! Rewind a minute here.” When Jake and Shaun look at him, uncomprehending, he heaves a sigh. “Back to our engagement?” That those two had skipped over like it was completely normal to mention in passing and then never again.
“Yes, that! Like I said, everyone’s talking about it.” Donovan holds up his drink in toast. “I wanted to offer my congratulations before you disappeared into the crowd. I’d wish you every happiness, but I think you’ve already found it.”
The sentiment is so genuine, so real, that Neil hears himself saying, “Thank you,” before he realizes what he’s done. Donovan nods and sips his drink while Neil tries to wrap his mind around what’s happening.
Instead of correcting the wrong assumption, like any sane person who wasn’t engaged would do, Neil had thanked him, thereby confirming it. And it’s not like he’d been rushing to set things straight before that, either, but in his defense he’d been stunned. He’s still stunned. There’s probably a limited window where he could backtrack and fix it, but…he’s not. It’s like he’s lost the ability to speak.
What is he doing?
He stands up straighter so he can gauge Shaun’s reaction, but the younger man’s expression doesn’t reveal anything. He’s just calmly observing the (anticlimactic) aftermath of Neil cementing their non-existent engagement to each other.
As far as Jacob Donovan is concerned, Neil and Shaun are together and everyone knows it. The two of them getting married makes sense. Jake lives in the same world as Morgan, the same world as everyone else. People who’ve never met them ‘know’ they’re in love. It’s crazy when Neil thinks too much about what he and Shaun have let happen around them—but not crazy enough to make him want to stop.
No, it only makes him wonder what it’d be like to live in that world along with everyone else.
Neil’s still trying to figure out how to fix what he did when Donovan pulls out his phone. “Sorry, hold on,” the other man sighs, flashing the screen at them to show he just got a message and this isn’t a ruse to get away from them. “My boss is looking for me—yes, she came with me, if you can believe that.”
Neil’s been on his fair share of trips with Andrews, so he knows the pain. “I’m truly sorry to hear that.”
Donovan types a quick message before pocketing his phone. “If you two will excuse me? She’ll make the rest of my weekend a living hell if I don’t find her ASAP.”
“Don’t let us keep you,” Neil says, suddenly in a hurry for the other man to leave so he can ask Shaun what just happened.
“Invite me to the wedding,” Donovan adds, as a parting demand. “I won’t get you an air fryer, but I promise it’ll be better—no, not possible. It’ll be just as good as an air fryer, how about that?” He claps Neil on the shoulder. “I’ll circle back around in a while.”
“Don’t get us any appliances!” Neil calls after him, and receives an over the shoulder wave for his trouble. The second Neil judges him out of earshot, he turns to face Shaun. “What did he just say?”
“That he will not be getting us an air fryer. I told him you already have one.”
“Murphy.” Neil doesn’t recognize his own voice, strangled as it is. “Before that. Did he say we were engaged? And everyone is talking about it?” It’s surreal, but saying it out loud makes it feel like it’s possible. Like it might have happened and Neil didn’t notice.
“Yes, and then he congratulated us,” Shaun confirms, which at least proves the conversation really happened and Neil didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange due to his fever spiking. “You responded by thanking him.”
It’s crazy—but is it any crazier than him and Shaun misleading people about their relationship for the past seven months? And why did Neil thank him? He could have said literally anything else. He could have corrected it. He had plenty of time, he should have set things right, and…he didn’t.
He cycles through a myriad of excuses that Shaun might believe. Can he blame his illness? Exhaustion? Temporary insanity? (It might be permanent insanity by this point.)
How is he going to get Shaun to forgive him for this?
Then again, Shaun hadn’t said anything to correct Jake, either. He was probably too surprised, or maybe he was following Neil’s lead, like he usually does when they’re in uncharted territory. (Too bad Neil has no idea where he brought them this time.)
Or maybe—no, it’s not possible—but what if—
“Shaun…” He can’t seriously be asking this question, yet here they are. “Are we engaged?”
Shaun presses his hand to Neil’s forehead, letting it linger this time. “You do not feel any warmer than last time I checked.”
That’s odd, because Neil feels a lot warmer. “That’s a relief?”
“I find your question about whether we are engaged…concerning,” Shaun says. Which is sensible.
“I just meant…” What did he mean? “Maybe you said something to someone, or maybe I inadvertently did something that made them think…” He rubs his forehead, frustrated.
“I do not recall saying anything that would cause people to believe we were engaged.”
“I don’t remember doing anything, either. But it’s not the kind of thing people usually assume for no reason, so why do they believe it?” Neil scans the crowd, but he can’t find anyone looking their way for longer than a passing glance. “Donovan said everyone was talking about it.”
“That is the strange thing you were picking up on.”
“It must be. People have been congratulating us—not in so many words, but saying things like they were happy to hear the news, asking about our future plans… I feel like I’m in the world’s most bizarre detective movie. Figure out when and how you became engaged.” Neil wonders if he might be upstairs in bed, sleeping next to Shaun. Maybe this is nothing more than a delirious fever dream. “How did so many people ‘learn’ about it at the same time? I don’t remember anyone saying things like this before tonight.”
He and Shaun look at each other for about three more seconds before saying, simultaneously, “Morgan.”
“I am going to transfer her,” Neil mutters darkly, as he scans the surrounding area for his most infuriating (non)resident. “I’m sending her to Denver, because if anyone deserves a lifetime working alongside Jared Kalu, it’s her.”
“I liked working alongside Jared,” Shaun says genially. He still talks to their former colleague regularly, one of those friendships that Neil had thought would slowly fade away with time and distance, but it hasn’t.
“Just as long as you don’t follow him to Denver,” Neil warns.
“I am not going to Denver,” Shaun brushes away his concern, then adds brightly, out of nowhere, “He takes credit for our relationship.”
Neil can only stare at him. Shaun might never have said anything more unbelievable. “…What?”
“When you and I became friends last year, Jared encouraged it. He told me it made perfect sense.”
Despite not really caring about (or putting much stock in) relationship advice from Jared Kalu, of all people, Neil’s undeniably curious. “How come?”
“He says we are happier together than when we are apart.”
It strikes Neil that Jared had only been talking about their friendship, since they hadn’t been pretending to date way back then. “He’s certainly right about that.”
“Yes, he is,” Shaun doesn’t hesitate to agree. “After you and I began telling people we were in a romantic relationship, he said that by encouraging our friendship, he led us to each other.”
“Of course he’d say that—wait, it’s not true, is it?” Did he and Shaun only become friends because of Kalu? There’s no way such an essential part of Neil’s life is thanks to his former resident, the very one who’d gotten on his nerves even more than Reznick.
“Our friendship is not because of anyone except us,” Shaun promises. “I would have been friends with you no matter what anyone told me.”
Neil’s immeasurably relieved; he hadn’t wanted to hear he might have come that close to a life without Shaun. “What did Jared tell you? If you don’t mind sharing.”
“I wondered if it was appropriate for us to become closer friends. You are my direct superior and I did not want to transfer teams. I like working with you.”
Neil has to smile at the simple honesty of that. “I like it, too.”
“We work better together than apart,” Shaun adds, smiling back at him. “Also, transferring would not change the fact that you have authority over me.”
“Can you say that again?” Neil’s grin is getting wider. “I think you need the reminder sometimes.”
Shaun isn’t impressed with Neil’s interjection (yet more proof they’re best friends). “Jared told me there was nothing inappropriate about our friendship. He said to always take friends where you can find them and worry about the problems later. The most important part of our lives is who we choose to share them with.” There’s sadness in him now. “Without other people, life is empty.”
“It certainly is.” And Neil has been underestimating Jared for a long time.
“I have lived that life. I have had…no one.” Shaun’s voice wavers just enough for Neil to detect it. “I do not want to live it again.”
“You’re not going to.” Neil leans closer to him. “We’re never going to let you.”
“You better not,” Shaun says, and there’s real warning in it. “Jared’s advice made sense to me. It’s what I already believed. True friends are rare, and I am keeping all of mine.” He skips the tie and adjusts the collar of Neil’s shirt this time. “I did not want to stay away from you. I still do not.”
“I can tell,” Neil remarks, as Shaun laughs and smooths down the fabric under his hands. “You said you wanted to become friends with me no matter what anyone told you.” He controls his voice carefully when he asks, “Did anyone ever tell you to stay away from me?”
Shaun pulls away from him and Neil feels temporarily paralyzed, but all his resident does is look at him and say emphatically, “No, they did not.”
“You’re not saying that so I don’t plot revenge?” He’s joking. But also not.
Shaun shakes his head, and Neil’s relieved to see the truth in it. “Even the people who do not like you have never advised me to stay away from you.”
“There are people who don’t like me?” Neil presses a hand to his heart in feigned shock. “How’s that possible, Murphy?” Like nearly everyone, Neil has met his share of people over the years with whom he doesn’t get along—and not just the him and Marcus version of not getting along, but the true we can’t stand each other kind. He still works with a few of them and steers clear of them as much as possible.
“They do not know you like I do,” Shaun says, like Neil’s joking question was serious, “but I have been changing their minds.”
This time, Neil really is shocked. “Don’t tell me you’ve been on some secret campaign to convince everyone they should like me.”
“Of course not,” Shaun assures him—though the reason for that assurance ends up giving Neil mental whiplash. “It is not a secret. I tell people that’s what I’m doing.”
“That…might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Which is saying something, since Shaun has a lot of tough competition (from himself).
“It is not sweet,” Shaun protests. “I am educating them.”
“Okay, you literally just made it sweeter.” The fact that Shaun doesn’t recognize it makes it all the better. “Why do you think no one ever warned you about me? I bet they were too afraid of what I’d do if I ever found out.” Neil would have paid them a not-so-friendly visit, at minimum.
“No, that is not why,” Shaun claims. “There was no reason for anyone to warn me about you.”
“You know better than that.” Especially considering how strained their relationship had been when they first began working together.
“There was no reason,” Shaun insists. “We did not get along at first, but you never intentionally tried to hurt me.”
“No. But I did things knowing they would. I tried to make you quit.” Neil hates that he can never go back in time and protect Shaun from his past self. “It’s the same thing.”
“It is not. You were trying to protect me in the wrong way.”
“That’s probably the kindest description of it that I’ve ever heard.” Even at Neil’s absolute worst, even when his opponent was Shaun, his resident still defends him. And forgives him. Neil’s working on accepting that gift, along with forgiving himself. “You know I’d hurt myself before I ever hurt you.”
“Everyone knows that. That is why no one warned me about you.”
“That’s a nice theory.”
“It is not a theory.” Shaun’s voice is tight. “It’s the truth.”
“Okay,” Neil relents, because arguing isn’t going to change anything, let alone Shaun’s opinion on this (and besides, Neil really wants to believe him). “I’m curious, why didn’t you tell me what Jared said about us?” Shaun tells him most things, so it’s odd he hadn’t mentioned something as major as Jared Kalu (wrongly) taking credit for their friendship, and then their ‘romance’ on top of it.
“I did not think it would interest you,” Shaun answers. “You and Jared are not friends.”
“Everything about you interests me, Shaun, including what your friends say about us.” Neil used to be wary about hearing too much; he’d never wanted to pry or potentially hear something that might upset him, but over time Neil realized he should know those things. Even if they’re sometimes uncomfortable to hear, it’s always better to know.
The simple fact is, the more Neil learns about Shaun, the more he wants to know. He’s never been so curious about another person as he is with Shaun Murphy. The other man is incredible— he’s a literal genius and his mind works in the most breathtaking ways—how could Neil not want to know everything about him? The way he thinks, and how, and why… Neil could listen to him forever (and debate with him for close to that).
“I will tell you everything people say about us in the future,” Shaun offers, and Neil needs to make sure he hasn’t given Shaun the wrong impression about what he expects.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he explains, “and I’m not asking you to violate anyone’s privacy, but this is the kind of thing I like to know. Jared probably figured we’d talk about it, since his advice was about us.”
“You could talk to him yourself.”
“I’ve never heard a worse suggestion, Murphy.”
Shaun knows exactly what he’s doing. “We could host a dinner party.”
“Look at that, you did manage to find a worse suggestion.”
Shaun’s definitely amused. And plotting (never a good thing for Neil). “We could invite everyone.”
“Everyone together?” It’s bad enough when Neil only has to deal with a few of them at a time. “Now you’re just trying to scare me. What can I do to ensure this never happens?”
“Nothing,” Shaun promises. He seems more calculating now, and Neil feels prickling on the back of his neck, like he’s in troub– “We can tell them it’s to celebrate our engagement.”
Neil breathes out at the reminder. Their engagement. It brings him right back to…what had he been thinking? “About that.” Neil had gotten them into this, so he’s going to get them out of it. “What would you like me to do?”
Shaun doesn’t answer that, choosing to ask a question of his own. “Why didn’t you tell Jacob the truth?”
It’s the question Neil’s been asking himself since it happened and he can’t find a good answer. “I was surprised and…confused. I’m used to going along with everything about our relationship, and when he said he could tell how happy we were…it felt like I should thank him. I didn’t register that I’d basically confirmed our engagement until after I said it.”
“It did not…register?” Shaun sounds uncertain, on the edge of hurt, which means Neil’s doing something wrong. “It is not…important to you?”
“That is not what I said,” Neil counters, voice low. “Our relationship is very important to me. In a world where this was all real, we’d probably be engaged by now.” That’s what confuses Neil half the time.
“We would?” Shaun’s still uncertain, but the hurt is gone, and maybe that’s why Neil keeps going.
“Most likely.” Or married already. No, nope, he can’t go down that road right now. He has to lighten things up again. “I mean, you want to keep me around, right? Gotta lock me down, Murphy.”
Now Shaun looks like he wants to laugh. “That implies you would ever leave me.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Neil shakes his head. “I think I’m the one trying to keep you.”
Is that why he’d gone along with the ‘engagement’, or at the very least, not done anything to refute it? Is he subconsciously trying to keep Shaun with him as long as possible? To the point that he’ll commit them to such a huge step in their ongoing cover without even consulting Shaun?
Yet nothing in him regrets it. (Even worse? He’d do it again.)
By some miracle Neil can’t explain, Shaun isn’t at all bothered by his admission. “We do not have to pretend to be engaged for you to keep me,” the younger man assures him. “I am here because I want to be. It does not matter what other people think, or want us to do. Many long-term couples never marry each other.”
“I know, and that’s perfectly fine, but…”
“You want to get married.”
“Someday, yes.” Neil clears his throat. “Eventually. A long time from now.” Obviously. He’s not even in a relationship—not in the way everyone thinks. “When Jake was talking about our engagement, I knew I had to correct him, but I couldn't figure out what to say, or how to deny it.” It almost felt like he shouldn’t deny it. “Everything he was saying made sense, so I said nothing, and after I thanked him it was too late.”
“How did it make sense?” Shaun folds his hands in front of him. “We are not engaged.”
“It makes sense for our cover,” Neil explains. “Remember when I said if this were real, we’d probably be engaged by now? I know it doesn’t matter what other people think, but the fact is they believe this is real and the next logical step for this kind of relationship is marriage.”
“It makes sense to you,” Shaun reiterates, and Neil would give anything to know what he’s thinking in that moment.
“Yes. To me, it does.” Neil is struggling to find some kind of solid ground. “Even before this trip, people weren’t shy about hinting that we should get married. It’s become pretty clear that everyone we know really wants us together, Shaun. For the long-term.” The forever type of long-term. “When we started this, I had no idea how important it would become to everyone.”
Neil sometimes thinks it’s too important to them. To the point that maybe what he and Shaun have done isn’t fair to the others. No one is going to take it well when they break up, but on the bright side, Neil will be too miserable himself to care much about anyone else’s unhappiness.
“Why do people care about our relationship so much?” Shaun asks.
“I think there are a few answers to that. We’re both easier to get along with now that we’re ‘together’.” Marcus is the most vocal proponent of that reason. “We’ve united two groups in the hospital which used to mostly remain separate—the senior doctors and the residents.” They’ve somehow become the center of both those groups, which have overlapped more as time has gone on. “But at the end of the day? I think most people just want us to be happy.”
“With each other.”
“That’s how they’ve decided we’re most happy,” Neil says, nodding. “In their defense, that’s what we’ve told them.” Also, there’s the small matter of it being true.
“What do you think we should do?” Shaun asks, carefully.
“Even if we tried to walk this back…” Neil trails off, because he can’t picture an easy way to do it. “I don’t know how successful we’d be. We have no idea how many people know about our ‘engagement’ by now. And since I confirmed it? The news is going to spread like wildfire, if it wasn’t before. If we make a big deal out of going around tonight just to say we’re not engaged, people are going to assume we had a fight. Or that we’re having issues. Maybe that we’re thinking of…ending this.”
Shaun’s expression has turned grim. “But none of that is true.”
Neil has to make certain Shaun’s not being unwillingly dragged into something he’s losing control over. Shaun isn’t one to go along against his own wishes, but nothing about their situation has ever been typical, and he’s been open about wanting Neil to be happy. If this is a step past his comfort level, he might be reluctant to voice it. After all, Neil can’t ignore the fact that Shaun hasn’t yet given him a straight answer about what he wants to do. He only asked Neil what he thinks.
“Shaun.” Neil hates every time he makes this offer. “We can stop this at any time. If we did, we’d kill two birds with one stone: correct the rumor while also having a convenient reason to…step back from this.”
Fittingly enough, Shaun takes a physical step back at those words. “Is that what you want?” He’s not outwardly reacting, but Neil can tell he’s upset at the suggestion, and this feels too real in the worst way.
“No, it is not.” Neil takes a step forward, erasing the distance Shaun just put between them. “It is not what I want.”
“You suggest it a lot,” Shaun says slowly. “I never suggest it. Do you want me to say we should end this?”
“No, I don’t.” He dreads the day it inevitably happens. “I’m only reminding you that you always have a choice. Never go along with anything you don’t want to.” Maybe he should try revealing a little more about why he brings it up so much. “Shaun, I can’t stand the idea of you ever being uncomfortable with me.”
Shaun’s truly surprised at the revelation. “You believe I could be?” He looks directly at Neil, with new determination. “You never make me uncomfortable. I have only experienced that with two people in my life.”
The gravity of that statement takes Neil some time to process. “Your brother?”
“He was the first.” Shaun reaches out to pull on Neil’s tie. “You are the second.”
“And everyone else?”
“Only sometimes,” Shaun says. “The better I know them, the less it happens.” He’s noticed Neil’s unhappiness. “I don’t blame anyone. It is not their fault.”
“You’re defending other people.” Neil has to tamp down on his emotions. “For making you uncomfortable.”
“They deserve to be defended,” Shaun says, seriously. “They do not intend to make me uncomfortable.”
Neil doesn’t understand how someone like Shaun even exists—he’s too good for the world that Neil’s always known. “People should do better.”
“Maybe they should, but that does not mean they will.” Shaun looks at him like he’s willing Neil to understand. “If I let myself get angry about it, I would always be angry.”
It speaks to how often he has to deal with other people’s thoughtlessness. Their carelessness. Shaun has to make the conscious decision to let those times go, to not blame people, or else he’d be upset all the time. (And to think he’d been floored when Neil revealed he uses him as an example of how to be better.)
“You are remarkable,” Neil tells him. “I’m consistently impressed by the way you handle challenges the rest of us don’t even have to think about.”
Shaun’s taken aback by that. “Thank you, Dr. Mel-” He catches himself and smiles sheepishly. “Neil.”
“You’re welcome.” Neil smiles at the slip, which doesn’t happen often. If Shaun uses his title outside of work, it’s usually to tease him or make a point. Occasionally, though, he does it by accident (this time because he was surprised) and Shaun’s reaction when he’s thrown emotionally off-balance never fails to pull on every heartstring Neil has. “So…I don’t make you uncomfortable the way other people sometimes do?”
Shaun slowly shakes his head. “I told you, no one is like you.” As far as explanations go, it’s substantially lacking in detail, but it’s the only thing Neil needs to hear right now.
“Okay,” he says easily, letting himself accept Shaun’s promise, and the warmth it causes him to feel. “I’m never going to stop checking, though.” About this, about how Shaun feels in general, about everything.
Something flickers across Shaun’s face. “That is one of the reasons.”
Neil files it away, along with the fact that Shaun has a list of reasons why Neil is different from other people. “I expect the entire list at some point, Murphy.” He’d enjoy seeing himself through Shaun’s eyes.
“It is a work in progress,” Shaun claims. “Like…our relationship.” Some of Shaun’s earlier lightness is returning as he remembers how they got here in the first place. “So you think we should be engaged?”
Neil repeats the question a few times in his head. There’s no ‘pretend’ in there. There’s no ‘for our cover’. They often skip the qualifying language when they’re talking about their relationship, but…
Neil’s mind goes back to those moments he’d been thinking about earlier. The times when he wonders if Shaun ever views their relationship as more real than it’s supposed to be. They’ve had moments like this before, where things don’t seem to completely align with what they’re supposed to be doing. The growing list of them presses at the back of Neil’s mind, all of them strange in the same unique way.
“What do you want to do?” he asks Shaun, trying to clear his head. He needs a real answer this time, and Shaun must be able to tell, since he doesn’t turn the question back around like he has been up until now.
“You were right when you said it makes sense.”
“For our cover.”
Shaun’s nodding. “For us.”
“Murphy.” He needs to make certain they’re on the same page. “Are we telling people we’re engaged?” His heart beats faster just from saying it out loud.
“I believe they told us.”
“That is…a bizarrely accurate point. But it doesn’t answer my question.” How are they seriously discussing this? They can justify it a thousand different ways, but it’s still the most insane thing they’ve ever considered—and even that isn’t enough to stop them, apparently. “We’re going along with this?”
“Yes,” Shaun says solemnly, but Neil can tell he’s more pleased by this discussion than anything else. “Let’s be engaged.”
Neil isn’t certain ‘relief’ is the best word to describe what he feels right then, but it’s the closest he can find. He hadn’t truly thought Shaun would say differently, not after the way their conversation was going, but there had been a chance and…relief. Yes, this is relief, but it’s a kind Neil has never felt before.
“You think you can convince people you want to marry me?” Neil teases, overwhelmed by how happy he feels.
Shaun takes the question seriously. “I will not have to convince anyone. They already believe it.”
His claim is so true that it’s half the reason they’re in this situation of going along with a mistaken engagement to begin with. (Neil’s behavior tonight might be the other half.)
Only a few hours ago, Neil had been concerned with how quickly he and Shaun were accelerating things. Now they’re engaged? The trajectory is…yes, still concerning, no matter how ‘right’ any of this feels.
“Murphy, you do realize at this rate the only way we’re getting out of this relationship is with a divorce?” He’s kidding, but something in the joke feels true.
Shaun laughs at the very idea. “I am never getting divorced.”
Neil’s surprised by the younger man’s absolute certainty. “That’s a pretty bold statement to make.”
Instead of explaining, or defending himself, Shaun asks, “Would you ever get divorced?”
“I don’t want to,” Neil says, which is a knee-jerk response, and Shaun deserves a better one (especially because of how interested he seems in Neil’s answer). “I don’t think anyone believes they’ll get divorced, not unless they plan a marriage for some temporary reason, like getting a green card, or securing an inheritance, or for a—” cover. Thank God he manages not to say it. It’s not like they’d actually go through with getting married. That’s—no, of course not, they have more sense than that.
(But do they, really?)
Shaun is waiting for him to finish his sentence. “For a…what?”
“Nothing,” Neil brushes it off, hoping Shaun will let that one go. “What I’m saying is there are a lot of reasons people might plan to get married and then divorced, but when it comes to real marriage? I don’t think anyone plans to end that.” The idea leaves him cold. Beyond cold. Freezing. (Or is that something to do with his fever?) “Choosing to end a marriage to someone I loved enough to marry in the first place?” It fills him with the darkest kind of dread. “I don’t think I could do that.”
“I could not do it, either,” Shaun reveals.
There’s only one solution for it, isn’t there? “We better marry the right people, then.”
“Yes,” Shaun says, with gravity. “We better.”
Neil tries to picture his own wedding in the distant future, to some random person—maybe to someone he hasn’t even met. As much as he tries, though, nothing ‘real’ will form. All he can see is the details he’d planned with Jessica, and that’s no longer close to anything he wants. His plans with her feel like they happened a lifetime ago, to a completely different person. (Which is sort of true, isn’t it?)
Shaun’s wedding, though…the idea of that is much clearer and a lot worse to imagine. Neil will probably be standing right next to him, because Shaun would want his best friend as his best man. It means Neil will have a front row seat to watch Shaun marry…who?
Who could Shaun possibly marry that Neil would ever approve of?
Aside from himself, of course.
What is he doing.
“So, until then…” Neil tries desperately to get them (himself) back on track. “We have each other?”
“Until then, and after,” Shaun adds. “You are always going to be in my life.”
“Hmm, that sounds like a really long-term commitment, Murphy.”
Shaun just laughs. “Good thing we are engaged.”
It’s easy. Too easy. Which is all the proof Neil needs to remember this isn’t real. Of course it’s easy when it’s not real.
But real or not, it feels as right as it did when Jacob Donovan revealed that everyone already believes they’re engaged. And they hadn’t disputed it. Instead, they’d taken it and run with it, and now they’re agreeing to tell the world it’s true. The world…which their friends live in. Reality comes crashing back into Neil when he remembers they’re going to have to share this news with everyone in their life.
“You realize how happy this is going to make everyone?” he sighs to Shaun. He might have to permanently lose Audrey’s number because he’s never going to hear the end of it. “They’ll be unbearable.”
“I look forward to it,” Shaun says, with genuine cheer.
“You would.” Neil’s accusation is so affectionate that Shaun laughs and moves closer to him. “We could probably buy a lot of time with a long engagement. Years, even.” Is that too long to suggest? “Not that I’m saying we should do this for years, but we could.”
“We can do anything we want,” Shaun tells him, which is the best summation Neil’s ever heard.
“That sounds perfect,” Neil agrees, surveying the crowd again. More people are looking their way than earlier, and Neil gets a few smiles and nods when he meets their eyes. If they don’t go back out there soon, other people are going to become brave enough to follow Donovan’s lead and start approaching them. Once the floodgates open, there’s no closing them again. “People will want to know how it happened,” he reminds Shaun, “so we’ll stick to vague details. The usual.” Keeping things deliberately vague is their method of covering when they don’t have answers to the ‘couple’ type questions they’re occasionally asked. (Questions like…how did you get engaged?)
“Vague details which are technically true,” Shaun adds, because that’s his favorite part. Shaun has lied on a few occasions to protect their cover, but it’s more counter-productive than anything else. He’s not good at it and he doesn’t like doing it. Nowadays, Shaun mainly sticks to telling the truth in such a way that no one can tell he’s really talking about something else. It’s a different kind of deception, but one which doesn’t cause his resident any guilt, or put him under the stress of trying to keep up an elaborate, fake cover.
“About time I found you two,” comes Morgan’s voice from behind Neil, and he should have known she’d be one of the few people who wouldn’t hesitate to interrupt them even when they clearly want to be alone. “You texted that you were coming down a while ago and I’ve been looking ever since!”
“We’re not done talking about this,” Neil whispers to Shaun, waiting for him to nod, then turns around to face Morgan. She looks as disapproving as she sounded, but there's barely concealed amusement in her eyes. She has a silver clutch in one hand, which matches her sleek dress, and a complicated looking drink in the other. Pineapples and cherries are artfully arranged around a rainbow umbrella, some of them floating on the liquid, and some of them stuck on the sugar-lined rim of the oversized glass.
“Where were you looking for us?” Neil asks dryly. “Out by the cabanas?”
“Ooh, you know there are some nice ones next to the main pool and spa.” His joke has gone right over her head. “I was checking them out earlier, but alas no, this is from the bar.” She drops her clutch onto the nearest table so she can try to spear a cherry with the umbrella, but she’s failing. Miserably.
Neil can’t believe she saves people’s lives with that level of coordination. It’s amazing. “What kind of drink is that? Are you enjoying summer break?”
“God, I wish!” She finally manages to stab the fruit and then points at him with it. “I’d be sipping this on a beach somewhere, preferably out of a coconut. The bartender told me there’s five kinds of rum in here.” She takes a sip and sighs in satisfaction. “Open bar if you’re up for it.” She directs that at Neil, knowing Shaun doesn’t drink at all. (He hates any loss of control, no matter how minimal.)
“I’m good.” Neil can’t remember the last time he had alcohol at a work event. It used to be his go-to method of stress relief, back when all he had ahead of him for an interminable evening was Marcus and the board on one side, and endless guests, small talk, and ‘obligations’ to fulfill on the other. All that changed sometime between becoming closer friends with Shaun and ‘getting together’ with him.
Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel the need to drink when he’s with Shaun. The younger man has a naturally calming effect on him, similar to a drink or two, so Neil stopped seeking it out. And that went double once he realized how much drinking causes him to miss. He didn’t used to care if he missed things (half the time he wanted to), but now? He doesn’t want to miss anything, especially not with Shaun. So he’ll occasionally still have a glass of wine with dinner, or a nightcap after a taxing day, but that’s about it (and not coincidentally, those nights tend to be the ones when Shaun isn’t over).
“Your loss,” Morgan’s saying, as she finally eats the cherry, and immediately starts trying to skewer another one. It’d be a lot easier to just pull them out by hand, but she must be looking for a challenge tonight.
“This dinner’s been underway for an hour,” Neil feels like he has to point out. Morgan’s eyes are slightly glazed, skin flushed, and she’s smiling a lot more than he usually observes at work events (no matter how much she’s dying to ‘network’ her way into a position of power tonight). “What number drink is that?”
“My first!” she exclaims, defensive enough that there’s no way it’s true. Neil just waits, watching her until she reluctantly admits, “I might have had a couple shots I took from the minibar in your—I mean, my room when I went to go change for dinner.”
Neil does remember her wandering into their room, complaining about a few hundred things, then wandering out again. He and Shaun had been distracted and not paying her much attention—Neil taking his time getting ready and Shaun doing his level best to get Neil to agree to skip the dinner.
“Slow it down tonight,” he suggests, as she rolls her eyes at him. “That might be related to my next question: what are you telling people about me and Shaun?”
“What am I not telling them?” She’s trying to spear a piece of pineapple now. “I say that it’s excruciating living in the romance novel that will never end. That’s not an exaggeration, by the way. As long as you two are characters in it, this is going to go on forever.” She finally wins against the fruit, holding the umbrella up in triumph before taking a bite.
He should have known he’d have to be clearer, especially since she’s slightly buzzed. “I meant, Reznick, what are you telling people tonight, specifically?”
“What do you mean?” She almost drops the last bite of pineapple when it slips off the umbrella, but manages to catch it with her drink. For some reason, Neil doesn’t feel like he has her full attention.
“People have been congratulating us.” He waits, but there’s no reaction from her. “On our engagement.”
“What engagement?” She glances between them, like she’s expecting them to start laughing at a joke she missed. When it doesn’t happen, the last of her humor fades. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Neil slowly nods, because her reaction isn’t at all what he’d been expecting. She seems completely floored, no hint of guile or deception or smug satisfaction because she’d been the one to spread the rumor. All he can find on her face is shock, along with an unmistakably growing joy as she processes what they’re telling her.
“You’re engaged?!” she shrieks, equal parts excitement and disbelief, and everyone in a 10 yard vicinity turns and looks at them. Well, if everyone didn’t know before…
There’s no going back now (not that Neil wants to), but he still glances at Shaun for one last confirmation. “Yes?”
“Yes,” Shaun says, the corners of his mouth turning up, and Neil can’t tell if it’s due to Morgan’s reaction or Neil’s question itself.
“And this is how you tell me!” Morgan throws herself at Neil for an impulsive hug that he’s barely able to brace himself for, and she nearly spills what’s left of her floating fruit salad all over him in the process. She pulls away and heads for Shaun, but catches herself and stops short enough that she almost spills the drink on him, as well. “Congratulations to you both! This is…I can’t even believe it.” Her and Neil both. “It’s such great news, I’m thrilled for you two.”
“Would you like to hug me?” Shaun offers, as she nods and laughs, wisely handing her drink off to Neil. After a couple false starts, she and Shaun manage one of the most careful and tentative hugs that Neil has ever witnessed (nothing will ever beat Shaun and Andrews, though—Neil has seen those two ‘hug’ without touching).
“You two are good,” Morgan says, as she and Shaun separate. “Talking about weddings and honeymoons with me today, as if you had no plans to get married… You were hinting around to see how I’d react, weren’t you?” She doesn’t wait for either of them to answer. “That’s some superb acting. I’m pretty impressed, especially with you, Dr. Melendez.” She’s studying him thoughtfully as he returns her drink. “Why, you seemed almost…surprised every time a topic about the future came up.”
Something about the way she’s watching him reminds Neil how important it is to play this as close to the truth as possible. She’s too astute and she spends all her free time with Alex Park. If Neil isn’t careful, she might figure out the truth—or come close enough that it causes a hassle for him and Shaun.
“Some things are just for us, if only for a little while,” he tells her. It’s a great excuse for their cover, but it’s also true regardless—there are plenty of things that belong only to him and Shaun. Like the fact that their engagement hadn’t existed until a few minutes ago. “The engagement is still…new.” So, so new.
“Okay, but when did it happen, and where, and how, and when’s the wedding?” Her questions are so rapid fire that Neil’s head spins. “I’m free all spring and summer, so anytime works. You’ll be my top priority clients.”
“You have no clients,” Shaun reminds her. “You are not a wedding planner.”
“Not yet. You just wait.” Her warning is ominous, like they might not have a choice in the matter. “Now, are you moving in together soon or waiting until after the wedding? Alex would be more than happy to help you move,” she volunteers without a second thought. “I’ll assist, too, but you should know that I don’t do strenuous manual labor. I’m not lifting any couches over here, got it?”
“What do you think this is, a television sitcom?” That’d be the day Neil entrusted anyone who wasn’t a professional to help him or Shaun move. Not that either of them is moving. “People hire moving companies for this very reason.”
“Sure, the elite do, maybe.” She turns to Shaun, adding, “You've made a fantastic choice in future husbands. You’ll never have to worry about money again, and even if you get divorced, you’ll get half of everything he has.”
“Reznick, we aren’t even married. Maybe save the divorce advice for a little ways down the road?” Or never. Never would be great when it comes to that kind of ‘advice’.
“I do not want anything Neil has,” Shaun tells Morgan. “And I am not getting divorced.”
“I can’t believe how little you care about money,” she murmurs, like he’s a lost cause. “Relax, I was only joking about a divorce. Everyone knows that would never happen.”
“…They do?” Shaun asks, and Neil has to admit that he’s also curious about the future Morgan’s envisioning.
“Yes.” She drops the umbrella back into her drink so she can wave her hand in a circle encompassing them both. “This? It’s a love story. They end happily.”
“Not always,” Shaun says, ever practical, and too somber. Neil can’t stop himself from leaning briefly into his side in silent comfort.
“Fine, not always,” she huffs in exasperation. “But a lot of them do. You never find out if you don’t try, right?”
Neil wonders if her question is more for herself or them. “Ever think of taking your own advice?”
She laughs shortly and says, in a transparent change of subject, “I still need information about what kind of wedding you want if I’m going to plan it right.”
Shaun remains silent, which is a sign he wants Neil to take over. Vague details which are technically true. Neil can do that. He’s…mostly sure he can do that.
“Look, we haven’t given a wedding…” He has to take another breath at the idea of his wedding to Shaun. “…much thought.”
“You haven’t given it much thought?” Her brow furrows as she sips her five kinds of rum, and Neil hopes the alcohol will help her believe all this. “You’re engaged, doesn’t that mean you’ve given it some thought?”
“You’d think, right?” The words are a half-pitch too high. Morgan doesn’t notice, but Shaun does and slides a hand over his arm. “What I mean is…yes, that’s the reasonable thing to do.” They just hadn’t done it themselves, specifically.
“We like to keep some personal things to ourselves,” Shaun reminds Morgan, before she can demand a concrete timeline of their (non-existent) future plans.
“You could have told me you were engaged,” she tries to claim. “I would have kept it a secret.” Luckily, she hears herself before they can call her on it. “On second thought, maybe it’s better you didn’t say anything. I suppose I can’t begrudge you wanting to enjoy it for a little while before telling all of us.”
“So gracious of you,” Neil mutters.
“It really is,” she assures him. “But you’re killing me here, you have to give me something, especially if I’m going to gloat about this to Alex later.”
Neil would ask what she’s going to be gloating about, but knowing those two, they’d made some bet about his and Shaun’s engagement and Morgan just won it. He has no idea how to appease her, either, when there’s not much to tell. “Like I said, it…happened recently.”
“Very recently,” Shaun chimes in, and Neil coughs to cover his laughter, though Morgan’s suspicious glance means he wasn’t successful.
“What do you mean by ‘very recently’?” she demands.
“It was within the past month,” Shaun offers, which is accurate while giving them a reasonable sounding cover that doesn’t reveal when it really happened. Look at the master of technically truthful. Neil’s impressed—and he expects nothing less from his brilliant resident.
“It feels like it just happened, doesn’t it, Shaun?” Neil barely keeps his composure when the younger man looks at him sharply, eyes widening. That’s right, two can play this game (which shouldn’t be nearly as much fun as it is). They should be worried about giving too much away, and yet…Neil keeps going. “Almost as if it was only…eight minutes ago.”
Morgan looks back and forth between them, maybe picking up on some vibe of oh, the truth? “That’s oddly specific.”
Shaun checks the time and corrects, “Nine minutes ago.”
“Oh my God,” she groans, once she (mostly) figures it out. “You two remember the exact time from that day?”
“…Yes?” Shaun risks glancing at Neil again, which is a mistake on his part. All Neil has to do is wink at him and Shaun breaks into a grin, quickly looking away. Another win for Neil. He's never going to get tired of making Shaun smile.
“I don’t know why I’d expect anything less.” Morgan’s tone is acerbic, but there’s a smile playing around her mouth after watching their exchange. “Of course you would remember that.”
“It was 8:02 pm,” Shaun supplies, and in case there was any doubt, “Pacific Standard Time.”
“I need another drink,” Morgan groans.
“You’re not even done with that one,” Neil points out, as she takes an extra long sip of it to spite him.
“I hope to be very soon,” she informs him, then gets right back to complaining. “You two are the most unbearably in love couple I’ve ever met and the only detail I get about your engagement is a time?”
Maybe Neil can distract her with the original mystery he and Shaun are no closer to solving. “Why don’t you help us figure out why everyone thought we were engaged in the first place?”
“Who have you told so far?” she asks. “Go through the list, because someone didn’t keep it a secret.”
“That’s the thing…” Neil can’t believe he’s letting her know this, but it’s necessary to prove his point. “You were the first person we told.”
“Sure I was,” she scoffs, but when she realizes he’s serious, her mouth drops open slightly. “Really?” She’s growing more pleased by the second. “Me?”
It was such a mistake to tell her. “Out of necessity,” Neil hastens to add before she can get any ideas about being their best friend or something. “If everyone here didn’t know already, we wouldn’t have said anything to you.”
“No, no.” Her smile is so wide by now that it has to hurt. “You love me. Am I like…your confidant now?”
“Murphy.” Neil reaches out blindly, grasping his arm. “Do something.”
“Morgan.” Shaun pats Neil’s hand a few times. “Please refrain from reminding Neil that you and he are friends. He does not react well.”
Neil throws his hands up. “Murphy!”
Shaun doesn’t look his way. “As you can see.”
Neil is aghast at this betrayal. “And I agreed to marry you?!”
“At 8:02 pm.” Shaun is completely unperturbed by Neil’s outburst. “Pacific Standard Time.”
Morgan’s watching them with fascination over her drink. “This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Neil isn’t inclined to disagree with that. “Need I remind you both,” he makes sure to sound stern, “we’re no closer to figuring out why people thought we were engaged.” Half his life is spent trying to wrangle the residents, he swears.
“If you didn’t tell anyone,” Morgan muses, “then it’s probably as simple as…it’s you two.”
“What do you mean?” Shaun (thankfully) asks before Neil can admit to having no idea.
Morgan skips past skeptical, landing right on disbelief. “Have you seen yourselves?”
Neil should have known she’d be next to no help. “But who jumps to the conclusion a couple is engaged?”
“Have you seen yourselves,” she repeats, deadpan. “You must have given it away somehow.”
“We could not have given it away,” Shaun says. Because they hadn’t been engaged.
“What about us says ‘engaged’ to you?” Neil demands, following Shaun’s past advice to keep asking until he gets an answer.
“Wow, you’re seriously asking me.” She takes another (incredibly long) sip of her drink. “You two have been in the honeymoon phase of your relationship for a solid year.”
“We have not been together that long,” Shaun protests.
“A year,” she repeats, sending her fellow resident a scathing look. “Which is most likely why everyone assumed you were engaged. Two people can’t be this in love and not do anything about it.” She tilts her head, flicking her eyes to Neil. “Right?”
Neil steadily meets her eyes, willing himself not to react. There’s no way she knows. It’s just an innocent statement that he’s twisting out of paranoia and maybe the slightest bit of guilt at how they’ve been misleading people.
“Right,” Shaun’s answering her question, so Neil doesn’t have to, “that is why we got engaged.” His words are easy enough that Neil would have thought them rehearsed if Shaun weren’t so terrible at acting.
It’s technically the truth. People expect them to take that next step (and mistakenly believe it already happened), so it makes sense to go along with it to keep their cover intact. It sure beats struggling to come up with a good explanation for why they aren’t actually engaged, which would be their only other option, considering there’s no way they’re ending this arrangement anytime soon. Shaun doesn’t want to, and Neil—well, Neil wouldn’t be okay if they did that.
“I just don’t think that…being affectionate is a good enough explanation for why everyone thought we were engaged,” Neil tells Morgan. How could it be when they hadn’t been engaged?
“I don’t know what else could explain it,” Morgan shrugs. “A few people tonight asked me about you two getting married, but I brushed off the questions as polite inquiries about you. It’s not like the whole world hasn’t been expecting you to get married for like…ever. We’ve been waiting longer than you, I bet.”
It’s a joke, but the truth of it has Neil digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m starting to get that idea.” From everyone he knows.
“Sooo…” Her smile is sunny, trying to be sweet, and it’s a huge red flag. “Are you sure there isn’t any story you can give me, aside from the time of day you got engaged?”
Neil should have realized she wouldn’t be distracted for long. “Uh…the truth?” He directs that at Shaun, an offer for him to explain it however he wants to.
“We talked about it and decided an engagement was a reasonable idea,” Shaun tells her. Because that’s it. That’s literally the whole story. (Unless they recount the seven months they’ve spent with each other—every moment of which had led them to this night, and that decision twelve minutes ago.)
“You thought it was a reasonable idea.” Morgan’s tone is dry, but amused. “Wow, I’m swooning, though I have to admit that’s the kind of practical thing I’d expect from you two. Even if it’s sleep-inducing as an engagement story on its own. To be honest, I don’t think it qualifies as a ‘story’.”
Neil supposes she has a valid point. As far as engagements go, ‘we talked and decided it was a reasonable idea’ might be a little…unexciting. But she’s right to call it practical. It makes sense for them, for their own reasons, and it’s a true way to describe what happened.
Their entire story though… Neil wonders what her reaction would be if she heard that one.
Maybe they’ll tell it someday. A long, long time from now.
“Why do we need a ‘story’?” Shaun’s asking Morgan. “We discussed it and agreed upon the decision we both wanted.”
“I guess you don’t need a story, I was hoping you had one because I love hearing them.”
“Why?” Shaun presses. “The details don’t change the outcome. I know many people propose to each other as a surprise, but that does not make sense to me.” Shaun has decided Morgan needs relationship advice from (most likely) the only two people in the room pretending to be in one. “Every couple should discuss marriage before getting engaged.”
“Sure,” she allows, “they should agree they’re on the same page about the future, but the proposal itself? I think that should be a surprise.”
Shaun frowns slightly. “Surprises are terrible.”
“The grander the gesture,” she continues, like he didn’t speak, “the more you know your partner loves you! So something like skywriting, or a serenade from a choir or—oh!” She’s completely oblivious to Shaun’s growing discomfort. “When people get engaged at a stadium and they put the proposal up on all the screens? And everybody’s cheering for you?”
“This is satire, right?” Neil can never be sure and—oh great, her scowl means she’s serious.
“Let me guess,” she says coolly, “you used none of those elaborate and beautiful gestures to propose.”
“First of all—” Neil pivots to face Shaun, who’s become more worried the longer Morgan’s gone on. “—I would never do any of those things to you.”
Shaun practically deflates with relief. “Thank you.”
“And second,” he turns back to Morgan, “what part of ‘we keep some things to ourselves’ do you not understand?” Like the fact that there was no proposal to speak of—they’re definitely keeping that to themselves.
“Fine, fine,” she gives up with a shrug, and it’s shockingly non-judgmental for her. “You two never do anything the conventional way, yet it somehow always works out.”
Does it? Neil isn’t sure the wisdom of asking, so he keeps it to himself (but he’d really like to know if everything works out in the end).
“It does,” Shaun says, startling Neil into looking over at him. For a second, Neil wonders if he’d asked his question out loud, but he knows he didn’t. Shaun’s simply agreeing with Morgan and had no way of knowing what Neil was thinking right then. He doesn’t know how long he stares, but it’s long enough that Shaun finally turns to face him. “What is it?”
Neil doesn’t see any harm in answering with the truth. “I was wondering if everything works out, and at that moment…you said it does. The timing was strange.”
“That is coincidence,” Shaun informs him.
“Or a sign from the universe.” Morgan’s eyes get brighter. “Do you believe in soulmates?”
“How about we meet in the middle?” Neil suggests. “I believe in compatibility. Some people get along better than others. Those are the ones we feel a connection with.” He taps Shaun’s arm when he says it. “They become our friends.”
“Or we marry them,” Morgan interrupts, like Neil’s underselling things.
“Every once in a while,” Neil allows, catching Shaun smiling out of the corner of his eye.
“Compatibility is real,” Shaun begins to lecture, which never fails to delight Neil. “It is based on numerous factors, some of which operate on an unconscious level. For a successful relationship, you should not rely solely on compatibility or the idea of soulmates.” He frowns at Morgan in disapproval for that one. “Relationships require work.”
“No, I like the soulmate idea better,” she says, dismissively. “It feels a lot easier.” She sets her drink onto the table next to her clutch, but keeps the umbrella, twirling it around. “Do you remember how I was the first one you told about your engagement because I’m the most important person in your life?” She forges on before they can deny it. “Can I tell the others?”
“This can’t be a good idea,” Neil tries to warn himself.
“Please?” Her voice is shrill in the way that tends to get her what she wants. “I need to talk about it with other people if you won’t indulge me.” She’s already getting her phone out of her clutch. “You owe me that much.”
Neil glances at Shaun to gauge what he thinks. The younger man shrugs and offers, “We could wait until we get home.”
“Which would mean telling them ourselves,” Neil finishes the awful thought. They look at each other, probably picturing the same thing: some version of this conversation with everyone they know…in person.
“You can do it,” Shaun tells Morgan at the same time Neil offers, “Be our guest, Reznick.”
She was definitely typing before they gave her permission. “It’s thoughtful of me to tell the others before they hear it from someone else attending the dinner,” she congratulates herself. “They’d never forgive you, so you’re welcome.”
“No one can spin a situation like you.” Neil might be the only one who does it better.
“That’s an unusual way of saying thank you, but I appreciate it.” She taps her phone against her palm in thought. “Since you’re so stingy on the details, can I make some up?”
“Absolutely,” Neil waits a beat, “not.”
“That’s cruel,” she informs him. “You’re cruel.”
“You’re not fabricating details about our engagement.” Only he and Shaun get to do that, if they’re so inclined.
Morgan seems to think she has a shot at convincing him. “I’d keep it classy if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Neil rubs his temples, trying to figure out if this growing tension is the return of his earlier headache or just…the regular amount of tension. “I’m very close to rescinding our offer of letting you tell them.”
“Too late, I just hit send!” She’s probably lying. “Guess I have to follow up with some details—real ones, don’t worry. Let’s see…I can tell them you got engaged at 8:02 pm.” She shoots a grin Shaun’s way. “Pacific Standard Time.”
Shaun’s pleased with the attention to detail. “You remembered.”
“Wedding planners have to remember the details,” she explains. “I’m going to work it into your wedding somehow… We could start the ceremony at 8:02, or…no wait! Even better, we’ll time it out so you’re officially married at 8:02. That’s trickier, but I could make it happen if you wanted.”
“You’re not our wed–” Neil stops mid-word when he considers her suggestion. “That’s actually romantic.” It’d be a great suggestion, too, if they were getting married. Which they’re not. (He should probably check on that at some point.) “Who knew you had it in you?”
“For you two, it’s easy—I think of the most saccharine ideas possible because you’re guaranteed to love them.” Before Neil can launch into his standard denial that they’re not that bad, Morgan continues, “This means I’m on retainer, right?” She must see the refusal on his face. “You wouldn’t have to pay me yet!”
He swears the residents do this on purpose. “That is literally the opposite of how retainers work.”
Her eyes light up. “So you do want to pay me?”
He’s spared from answering when his and Shaun’s phones go off at the same time. Neil doesn’t need to look at his, silencing it without pulling it out of his jacket pocket.
Shaun takes his out, confirming Neil’s suspicion when he says, “It’s everyone.”
“Tell them you can’t find me.” He’s not joking.
“They would not believe it,” Shaun points out. “I always know where you are.” They really do keep extremely close tabs on each other. After Neil returned from the New York conference, their monitoring of each other had gone up exponentially, in some kind of rebound effect after being separated for a week. They track each other’s locations on their phones and Neil had added Shaun to his car service so he isn’t at the mercy of (too often delayed or canceled) public transportation schedules anymore.
Neil tries to think of another believable excuse. “Tell them I don’t want to talk.”
Shaun doesn’t like that one, either. “I will tell them you are busy working.”
“Real stretch,” Morgan scoffs (as if she’s doing any better).
Neil watches Shaun type a response to someone—since Neil isn’t engaging with the others, they’re going to converge on Shaun, who is much nicer than Neil in terms of what he’ll put up with from them. Therefore, it’s not a matter of whether Neil will step in, but a matter of when. “Alright, Murphy, what are they saying?”
Shaun hesitates, close to imperceptible. “Congratulations.”
“Oh, really?” Neil folds his hands behind his back. “That’s all?”
Morgan’s laughter would be enough of an answer, even if Shaun didn’t add, “…No.”
“I didn’t think so.” The only silver lining is this will save him and Shaun some misery later. By the time they get home in a few days, the news will have settled and the others won’t be too over-zealous in their reactions…hopefully. But for right now? They’re going to be relentless and Neil isn’t going to deal with it while they’re at the dinner, so neither is Shaun. “Tell them to direct all questions to Morgan because we’re not available.”
“Okay,” Shaun says, with no small measure of relief, as he does just that and returns his phone to his pocket.
Neil turns to Morgan, who’s borderline giddy over the prospect of being the center of attention and the person who gets to dole out information as she sees fit. “Don’t give me a reason to regret this,” he warns her.
“You have nothing to worry about,” she insists, which only makes him more worried. “Is there anything you want me to say?”
“Yes, and I want you to relay this word for word.” Neil waits until she’s ready to dictate his answer. “Leave Neil and Shaun alone.”
“Got it.” She’s dutifully typing. “I told them you’re both busy at the dinner, but you’re looking forward to talking to them later.”
This is why he worries. “I think something was lost in translation there.”
“You’ll have to face them eventually,” she says, more a reminder than a warning.
“Let me live in denial for a while longer.”
She laughs at his plea. “Fair enough. Speaking of being busy tonight, I still have about half my list from Andrews to get through, so I should get back to work.”
“We should, too,” Neil sighs, much as he hates to agree. “The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can leave.”
“That’s the spirit,” she mocks him, already back to typing on her phone, and Neil wonders if ‘getting back to work’ was a convenient excuse to talk to their friends without him and Shaun there to contradict everything she says. “I’ll see you boys later. Try not to hide away with each other all night,” she tosses out as a parting shot.
“We are in plain sight,” Shaun repeats his protest from earlier, but she’s already gone. “People must believe we are terrible at hiding.”
“I think it’s more that they’re willing to leave us alone, up to a point,” Neil tells him. “Old friends and meddling residents not included.” He glances around the hall, which has only become more crowded while they were talking to Morgan. “A lot of people are trying not to make it obvious they’re looking our way.”
Shaun steps up to his side, looking over the crowd of guests along with Neil. “They probably want to congratulate us on our engagement.”
Their engagement. Neil’s getting used to that already. “Then I guess we shouldn’t deprive them, should we?”
“No.” Shaun’s eyes are alight. “We should not.”
“Speaking of which,” Neil links their arms, “how do you want to act for the rest of the night?”
Shaun doesn’t seem to understand his question. “Like ourselves?”
“Ourselves, huh?” He knows they’ve made their decision, that things are in motion which will be nearly impossible to undo, but Neil can’t help a moment of self-doubt when he thinks about everything ahead of them. What if they made the wrong choice? It has him turning his head to whisper in Shaun’s ear, “What are we doing?”
Shaun’s smiling, which means everything’s okay. “Anything we want.”
It’s the same answer he gave earlier, and Neil likes it as much as the first time around.
They can, Neil thinks. They can do anything they want.
And they’re going to.
Chapter 17
Notes:
How many chapters can I write about a single day?? I probably shouldn't ask that question. (I really wasn't kidding that I only have a few major ideas left, but the problem is I never know how long it will take me to get through them.) Neil and Shaun both make real progress in this chapter, so I hope those of you who've been frustrated with them (yes, that includes me!) feel better after this one.
As always, thank you to everyone out there who is enjoying this, you really do keep me going, and I truly appreciate the love! <3 <3
Chapter Text
Neil’s had a lot of great evenings, but none of them have been like tonight.
He lives a pretty charmed life, and he considers himself equal parts rewarded (for the work he’s put in) and blessed (for those lucky things he had no hand in). It’s not perfect, but what life is? His is close, and that’s as much as anyone can ever hope to get.
He has a great family, and friends that might as well be; he’s an established, successful surgeon at the peak of his career; he has enough money to live well, while also having plenty left over to give to good causes.
Just one of those things would be enough to satisfy a lot of people.
What more, then, could he need to be happy?
Sometime around 8:30, Neil comes to the conclusion that he needs Shaun.
It’s not a new revelation, but one which has steadily become more obvious over the past year. The more of Shaun he gets, the more of Shaun he wants. More of his time, more of his attention, more of his affection. He wants more of everything with Shaun.
And for the most part, he’s gotten it. At work. At home. Anywhere else they might be. Not only does Neil love spending time with him, just for the sake of it, but if they’re together then Neil can be certain he’s okay. Shaun just does better when he’s with Neil. He’s happier, he’s more relaxed, and he’s more at ease with the world in general. It’s an inescapable fact that if Shaun’s all of those things, then Neil most likely is, too. (His trip to New York had taught him that, in the harsh way reality often teaches things.)
The same is also true in reverse: if Neil is content, then Shaun’s content. Shaun takes care of him in a thousand different ways, making Neil’s life easier and more efficient. Neil has become healthier and calmer and more productive—all of those directly related to his relationship with Shaun. They need each other and they make each other’s lives better. Neil has thought all of that before, but the truth of it bears repeating, again and again.
So what are they doing? The answer, they’d decided, is anything they want. Currently, that’s letting everyone believe they’re engaged (and Neil’s really starting to wonder what they might decide they want tomorrow, or a few months from now).
He swears, if anyone mentions knowing some poor orphan who needs a temporary home…
Neil would laugh, but the more he thinks about it, the more it feels like something that could happen. Somehow, some way, knowing their life and the people they surround themselves with… Neil wouldn’t rule it out. Not anymore.
As recently as a few hours ago, Neil would have refused to believe that during tonight’s dinner, he and Shaun would be telling people they’re engaged, complete with inside jokes about the fact that it actually happened tonight, and not at some mysterious point in the near past like everyone assumed.
This is the problem (AKA the absolute best thing) about Neil’s life nowadays: anything is possible. And the twists and turns aren’t awful; they don’t cause misery and heartbreak, or hurt and anger. They’re simply new obstacles for him and Shaun to strategize their way through together—usually with a lot of creativity and ingenuity and shared laughter along the way.
To think, it had taken Neil over 40 years to wake up every day and think of his life as fun. He hadn’t known that was a way people could feel, not until Shaun.
Now that he has it, Neil is determined not to lose it. Their growing friendship, and the unique closeness they share, hadn’t been necessary to keep up their cover. They could have been casual friends who repeated the lie every once in a while, and that would have been enough. But they couldn’t stay away from each other. They didn’t want to. In the beginning, they used their cover relationship to keep others away from them, but now they mostly use it to stay close to each other. Neil’s always been careful to follow Shaun’s lead on this, and if Shaun wants to lean into their pretend relationship—or embrace it outright—then Neil is more than happy to do the same.
The ultimate proof of that, of course, is the fake engagement both of them had very quickly agreed to (Neil thinks they discussed it for all of six minutes before diving in without looking back). The irony is that in the grand scheme of things, their ‘engagement’ doesn’t change how they interact with each other. They’re already close enough to pass for an engaged couple—made all the more obvious by the fact that everyone believed it before Neil and Shaun even knew what was happening. This just gives them another reason to be as close as they want to be.
That’s why this is one of the best nights Neil can remember having. Their plan involves telling people they’re engaged, acting like they’re engaged, and discussing their future as if they have one together. He and Shaun have decided to commit to this cover of an engagement as much as any real couple would commit to a real engagement. (Neil has that bizarre thought around 8:45, and also, he thinks the medicine he took is wearing off and his fever is returning full force.)
Put more simply: Shaun is his and everyone knows it.
He’d blame the fever for that thought, too, except he’s had it many times before. The only difference is now they have an official status which proves it; people know they’re going to stay with each other. There’s permanency and security in that fact, and it’s close enough to the truth that it resonates with Neil all the more. He intends to keep Shaun in his life forever, and Shaun has said he wants that as well. It’s amazing to be able to say that out loud and mean it. To everyone.
There’s an undeniable thrill to the whole thing—not as if they’re getting away with something, but as if they have that something in the first place (maybe for the first time). Shaun might feel similarly, judging by the easy way he laughs and smiles whenever anything remotely related to their future comes up in conversation. Not that Shaun has ever shied away from those topics in the past, but he’s quicker with his answers, like they’re easier now that he and Neil are ‘officially engaged’.
It had taken only a single group conversation for Neil to be certain he and Shaun made the right decision. As they quickly learned, Jacob Donovan hadn’t been exaggerating when he told them most people were talking about their engagement. Everyone knows. Everyone. To the point that Neil isn’t sure if it would have been possible to convince so many people, en masse, that they were mistaken. (Honestly, Neil doesn’t think he would have wanted to put in that much work, even if he were feeling more like his usual self.)
For the first part of their evening, Shaun makes a point of asking everyone how they heard about the engagement. A few people claim to have heard it before tonight, but most say they heard it from another person at the dinner. It takes five groups of people before someone mentions the brochure they’re in, and another six groups after that to find a copy of said brochure (more of a booklet, really), which highlights the main events of their weekend. Apparently they’d been handed out earlier during all the welcome events Neil and Shaun skipped.
“I had no idea people still made these,” Neil mutters, half to himself and half to Shaun, as he flips through the copy they managed to procure. He’s trying to find the page they’re supposedly on.
“You are holding one,” Shaun informs him. “So…yes.”
Neil sends him a sidelong look meant to scold, but he’s smiling so it doesn’t have much effect. “This is like 30 pages, Shaun. If I roll it up and hit you with it, it’s going to hurt.”
“It is 22 pages,” Shaun corrects. “And you don’t hurt me. Threats you will not follow through on are ineffective.”
“Threats I do follow through on are ineffective with you!”
“You need better threats,” Shaun suggests, as he takes the brochure from Neil’s hands and turns a few pages before stopping. “Here, we are on page 5.”
Sure enough, there’s a picture of him and Shaun at a black-tie event, both of them smiling at the camera. The picture is accompanying a short paragraph detailing some of their more unique cases from the past year. There are other people profiled in the brochure as well, but it doesn’t surprise Neil to find he and Shaun are among them—and the first ones listed, at that. Neil’s truly grateful he’s been next to Shaun for the past year, able to assist him or directly step in every time Shaun has struggled with his growing fame in their field. (People are obsessed with them, seriously.)
The picture isn’t the main issue, either, as Neil demonstrates when he reads directly from the caption: “Neil Melendez and Shaun Murphy, who celebrated their engagement last month, attended St. Bonaventure's Annual Founders’ Banquet last year.” The only reason that banquet was tolerable was because Neil had Shaun right next to him (which is usually the case). “Wait a minute, Morgan took this photo!” It never fails; everything that upends his life can be blamed on her in some way.
“She did take it,” Shaun confirms, but infuriatingly, that’s as far as he’ll go in terms of blame. “She posted it to her social media, but only mentioned the banquet.”
Neil hates how right Shaun is about the whole thing. Morgan posts dozens of pictures per week in an effort to ‘document her life’ and ‘show the world what she has to deal with’. (Neil swears he hardly pays attention when she goes on about it, so why does he know so much?) Anyone could have taken the picture from one of her accounts, which are all 100% public. Neil should probably monitor what she posts on her social media more closely.
“So where did this caption come from?” Neil wonders out loud. “It says we celebrated our engagement last month.” He’s irrationally irritated to have missed out on it. “Where was I, Murphy? Where were you?”
“We were not celebrating our engagement,” Shaun says, “but I am certain we were with each other.”
That last point makes Neil feel a lot better, but he’s still bizarrely jealous of the brochure versions of himself and Shaun who had been off having a grand time celebrating, apparently. “This explains why everyone suddenly ‘learned’ about our engagement, but it doesn’t explain how the conference organizers got it so wrong, or at the very least, the person who wrote the caption. I still want to blame Morgan…you have no idea how badly.”
“If she were responsible for this,” Shaun hands him back the brochure, “then she would have admitted it. She would be proud.”
“Yet again, you’re right.” Instead of ditching the brochure on a nearby table, Neil folds it so he can slip it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “She also knows better than to lie to me about something like this.” If she tried, Neil would eventually find out (most likely from Shaun, who has a remarkable ability to discern when people are lying—and then directly ask them why).
“Someone could have given them incorrect information,” Shaun offers, as a possible explanation. “Or they made an assumption about us.”
“I guess, but it’s still frustrating not to know for certain.” Neil gives the room a quick once-over, but no answers miraculously appear. “I hate that real life doesn’t tie up every loose end in a satisfying way.”
“The answer is easy: find the writer of the caption and ask why they wrote it.”
Neil can already see the determination in him. “You’re going to do that, aren’t you?”
Shaun’s nodding at him. “You want an answer,” he says, as if that’s a good enough reason for him to go to the trouble of tracking it down.
Neil can’t form any words so he turns and kisses Shaun’s shoulder instead. It’s the strangest thing; now that Shaun’s given him permission to be as close as he wants, Neil can’t get enough of it.
Such tends to be his pattern when it comes to Shaun Murphy.
Shaun smiles at him and then retrieves Neil’s water from the nearby table where they’d been conversing with a few people earlier. He says nothing, holding the glass out to Neil expectantly.
“I think you’re trying to drown me,” Neil complains, even as he takes it.
“If I wanted to drown you, I would tell you to inhale it,” Shaun says, almost causing Neil to do so when he abruptly laughs. “Do not inhale it,” he quickly adds, with a hint of worry.
Neil waits to make sure he’s okay before taking a sip of the water. “Not getting rid of me that easily.”
“I don’t want to get rid of you at all,” Shaun assures him.
“Good, then we’re in agreement.” Neil notices a few people heading their way with the kind of intent that means their peace will soon be gone. “How are you doing?” he murmurs. “Still okay?”
“Yes,” Shaun answers truthfully, though Neil can see he’s tired. “How are you?”
“The same,” Neil says, which is also true. Things could be worse, but they’re not, so just like Shaun, he’s fine to keep going. (Neil does, however, recommit to his goal of leaving by 11.)
They would have returned to circling the room, but it’s more accurate to say they mostly stay in the same place while one group is replaced by the next. They don’t have time to move very far before they’re inevitably ambushed again, and that’s fine with Neil. They’re still in a relatively empty area, near the tables and away from the main crowds, which is better for having quieter discussions. It’s also convenient for taking breaks, which is all the more important when standing gets more taxing for Neil the later it gets.
A surreal quality settles in around them as the night wears on. Neil feels mildly out of it (thanks to the returning fever) and Shaun’s more open with him than Neil might have ever seen before and they’re telling people they’re engaged now (how did that happen? Neil was there and he still has no clue). Everything about their evening just works, even with the unexpected wrench thrown into it. Who would have thought playing along with an engagement would be the easiest option? But it’s him and Shaun, so of course it is.
Neil’s fatigue slowly returns as the evening wears on, but it’s easy enough to forge through it when he’s making Shaun smile or laugh or good-naturedly complain about Neil’s ‘constant harassment’ of him—which is actually the opposite, Neil keeps insisting, to the amusement of whoever they happen to be with at the time. He wants to help Shaun forget about his own tiredness, and his worry over Neil, and his constant underlying social anxiety. Helping Shaun relax, seeing him let go of all those things for brief respites here and there, allows Neil to forget his own discomfort.
In turn, Shaun keeps a close watch on him, making sure Neil drinks enough water, and has another dose of medicine, and takes frequent breaks from people (which Neil agrees to without protest, since Shaun needs them equally as much). He even gets Neil to eat under the guise that he'd wanted to try some new appetizers, but wasn’t sure if he’d like them, so if Neil would please try them… (Neil had seen right through that one, but he’d been surprised to find he was slightly hungry, so he was more than happy to oblige—he’d also been correct that Shaun would enjoy 3 out of the 5 appetizers circulating that particular hour.)
It’s closing in on 11 when Shaun asks, for the fourth time, if Neil feels like he wants to leave.
“You’re not supposed to be asking me that,” Neil reminds him, as Shaun’s expression darkens. They’d agreed before the dinner that Neil would be completely honest about how he was feeling, and in exchange, Shaun wouldn’t constantly ask him if he wanted to leave. Shaun has a tendency to become hyper-focused, especially when it comes to someone’s health (and especially when it comes to Neil’s), so it helps when he has incentive to counteract his fixation.
Neil has kept to his end of the deal—he really is fine to stay. Shaun, however, has been having a much harder time sticking to it. (That said, asking only four times was much less than he would have asked otherwise, so Neil’s going to take it as one of the best outcomes he could have hoped for.)
“I don’t like the agreement we made,” Shaun says irritably (as if Neil hadn’t figured that out), and his tone is the first warning sign he’s preparing for a fight.
Neil reevaluates his approach. “Does that mean you don’t have to follow it?”
“Yes,” Shaun snaps, suddenly enough on edge that Neil begins calculating ways to keep him from tipping over.
“Yes.” Neil projects every measure of calm he possesses. “Always.”
Shaun’s eyes widen, surprised out of his anger, but the rest of his emotions don’t fade as easily. “I said I would do something I didn’t do!”
“Shaun. The point was to try. If you’re having trouble, or don’t want to do it anymore, that’s okay. If you tell me when you’re struggling, we can talk about it.”
“I thought I could stop asking tonight, but I can’t.” Shaun only sounds more distressed. “I tried and I can’t.”
“Shaun.” Neil takes a step closer to him. “It’s alright.”
“It’s not alright!” Shaun exclaims, then takes a deep breath, trying to cling to his control amidst his frustration. He’s managing, but barely. “I hate when I try to do something and it doesn’t—it doesn’t work.” He swallows and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I hate it, Neil. I hate it.”
“I know you do.” Neil reaches for him and Shaun goes willingly, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Neil. It would be impossible to determine which one of them is more relieved at the contact, and Neil runs a hand over his back, trying to silently tell him that everything is fine. “You’re trying. Don’t hate that it didn’t work if you put in the effort to try. Things aren’t always as easy as we hope they’ll be. I’m not upset, and you don’t have to be, either.”
“There are times I can’t do it,” Shaun says shakily, holding onto Neil as if he’s the only thing currently grounding him. His words are vague enough he might be referring to anything and not this latest incident which had upset him. “I want to, but I can’t.”
“Everyone feels that way,” Neil reminds him, which Shaun knows, but it helps if he hears it when he’s upset about his perceived failure at something. “No one is perfect. We’re all works in progress. If you need proof of that, just think of everyone we work with. Have you met our friends?” Shaun laughs at the question and Neil knows with certainty they’re going to be okay, but for right now he’s content to hug Shaun tighter and give him as much time as he needs.
No one’s in their vicinity anymore, which Neil once would have attributed to luck, but after a few incidents similar to this over the course of his friendship with Shaun, he knows it’s on purpose. Their colleagues might constantly seek them out, but they’re also thoughtful enough to give them space when they clearly need it, and Neil appreciates that. It’s a stark reminder of how amazing it is that Shaun will let him be this close when he’s upset. It doesn’t work this way with anyone else.
When Shaun eventually leans back to look at Neil, it’s with relief and gratitude, both of which make Neil want to pull him right back in. “I’m okay,” he says, and Neil relaxes at the truth of it.
He examines his resident more closely, and it confirms his theory about why Shaun became upset with relatively little provocation. The younger man’s face is pale and drawn, and the circles under his eyes from earlier are deeper shadows now. Neil brings a hand up to brush his thumb over one. In a perfect world, that’d make it disappear. “You’re tired.”
“So are you,” Shaun says, which is a roundabout admission and means he’s really tired.
“Yes, I am,” Neil admits, “but it’s worse for you right now.” Shaun’s level of tiredness directly impacts his emotions and his ability to deal with them. He’ll fall much easier into emotional overreactions to things that normally wouldn’t bother him, or that he could consciously choose to ignore if he were in a better frame of mind. “I think I’m the one who should have been asking if you wanted to leave.”
“I am…” Shaun reconsiders. “I was fine.”
“Right up until you weren’t.” Neil stops fighting it and pulls Shaun back to him with an arm around his waist, mostly to reassure them both he’s okay. “We’re done for the night.”
Shaun doesn’t reply, just leans into Neil, and it’s as good as agreement. They’d gotten up early this morning and had a day filled with traveling, which hits Shaun twice as hard as most people. On top of that, he’d been concerned about Neil, the active kind of worry Neil had done his best to try and mitigate, but hadn’t been able to turn off. They’d ended a stressful day with a crowded dinner, socializing and fulfilling all Andrews’ demands, which requires constant energy (even if it’s easier now than it was in the past, when they were apart).
Then somehow, at that dinner, they’d agreed to tell people they were engaged, which has already begun taking its emotional toll. Namely, in the form of every friend they have between them. Shaun checked his phone throughout the evening, occasionally replying to messages, but Neil mostly avoided his own. The few times he checked it (out of professional necessity), he only swiped away notifications, putting everything off until later.
The problem is that ‘later’ is fast approaching and Neil dreads seeing how many messages he has by now. He can only swipe these people away so many times. Eventually he’s going to be back in the same building with them, and it doesn’t matter where he goes—there’s nowhere to hide in their hospital. Nowhere. (He knows because he’s been trying to find a spot for years.)
A wave of exhaustion sweeps over Neil at the thought. He has no idea how he and Shaun are both standing. (Well, they’re leaning on each other a little, but the overall point stands…no pun intended.) Neil regrets he hadn’t realized the extent of how tired they both were, but the illness might be to blame for that.
“I don’t feel like we need to say goodbye to anyone,” Neil explains, as he guides Shaun back toward the main doors; thankfully, they remain unaccosted and Neil silently thanks their colleagues again. “We’ll see them on and off all weekend.” Not to mention that an extended round of goodbyes with everyone would take at least another hour and Neil won’t subject himself or Shaun to that tonight.
“I will text Morgan so she knows we left,” Shaun says, taking out his phone.
“Remind her not to come looking for us after she leaves. I don’t need her wandering in at 2 am, wanting to recap her entire day.” It’s something she would do if they didn’t explicitly tell her to stay away (and even that might not be enough).
It’s 10:53 when they exit the grand hall, meeting Neil’s goal with seven minutes to spare. They head for the bank of elevators that will take them upstairs, and Neil’s aware of Shaun’s quiet contemplation of him, but doesn’t ask about it, or interrupt it. A lot of the time, Shaun needs to figure things out in his own mind first before talking to Neil.
It’s not until they’re alone in the elevator, waiting for the doors to shut, that Shaun says, “You will do things for me that you won’t do for yourself.”
There’s no point denying it. “It’s easier for me to do things for you, but I’m trying to get better at doing them for myself, too.” He really is, because Shaun wants him to. “I was fine at the dinner. I would have told you if I wasn’t. I’m just sorry I didn’t err on the side of caution and make the decision to leave sooner. It would have helped both of us.”
“I asked if you wanted to leave four times.” The doors close as Shaun presses a hand to Neil’s forehead. “You do not feel warm.”
“That medicine you gave me an hour ago is helping. And I’m being honest when I tell you I didn’t want to leave until the last time you asked.”
“I stopped myself from asking many times,” Shaun admits, which Neil had already known, “but sometimes I had to ask.” He’s watching the numbers steadily tick up towards their floor. “I care about you more than the deal we made.”
“You’re…I don’t have words for you.” Neil squeezes his wrist. “You weren’t breaking our deal, you were literally being too sweet to follow through with it.”
Shaun won’t accept that interpretation. “I was breaking our deal.”
“And…” Neil prompts, when Shaun doesn’t continue.
“And it’s okay,” Shaun relents. “What is the point of agreeing to something if neither side has to follow through?”
“So we can strive to do better. So we have a goal to work towards. You know this one, Murphy. We just talked about it downstairs. It’s so we can…”
“Try.”
“Exactly. Trying is how we get better at things.”
Shaun frowns at that. “Study and practice are how we get better at things.”
“Don’t semantics me, Murphy, it’s too late for this. You know what I’m saying.”
“Semantics is not a verb. I cannot semantics you. I don’t know what that would involve.”
“This!” Neil exclaims. “It would involve this.”
Shaun’s laughing when the elevator opens on their floor; he’d known exactly what he was doing. They head in the direction of their room and Shaun must still be thinking about before, judging by his next question. “Would you do anything I asked you to do for me?”
“As long as it didn’t hurt you, then yes.” Neil doesn’t have to think about it. “Always.”
“How can you say that?” Shaun’s voice rises a little more than it normally would for a question, as if he can’t believe Neil’s answer. “I could ask you for anything.”
“You could and that’s the point. Would you ever take advantage of me, or my offer?”
“No!” Shaun’s appalled at the mere suggestion, to the point he stops walking. “I would never do that.”
Neil reminds himself Shaun’s overtired and overwhelmed, so he treads lightly. “I know you wouldn’t,” he promises, nudging Shaun’s arm to get him walking again. “That’s precisely why I can say it—because I’m saying it to you.” Since Shaun’s still uncertain, he turns the question around. “Would you do anything I asked of you?”
“Yes, I would.” Shaun hesitates, maybe remembering his reaction downstairs. “I would try.”
“What if I took advantage of your offer?”
Shaun’s approximately one more question away from getting angry at Neil for suggesting he’d be capable of taking advantage of Shaun. “You would not do that to me.”
“Just like you wouldn’t do it to me.” They’ve reached their door and Neil searches for the keycard, which has to be in one of his pockets. “I think it might be part of being best friends, Shaun.”
“I never had a best friend,” Shaun tells him, gesturing to the right side of Neil’s suit jacket. “Not before you.”
Neil stops searching as he thinks about that, not so much because of Shaun’s admission—based upon the complete lack of support Shaun had for most of his life, he’d known that was the case. No, Neil’s thinking back over his own life, and it’s striking to realize he feels the same way.
“You know what, Shaun?” He’s vaguely aware his resident has given up waiting for him, pulling the card out of Neil’s inside right pocket to unlock the door and hold it open for him. “I don’t think I ever had a best friend before you, either.”
“That cannot be true,” Shaun replies, as they enter the room, the door shutting with a soft click behind them. Neil thinks about throwing the inside deadbolt, but then he doesn’t (which he will forever deny is because Morgan couldn’t get inside if he did). “You have had many friends. Fifteen more years’ worth than me.”
“Had to get that in there, didn’t you?”
Shaun’s face gives nothing away. “I am only stating the truth.”
“Oh, of course, Dr. Murphy.” Neil perches on the arm of the nearest chair, because standing is as awful in their hotel room as it was down at the dinner. “And you’re right, I’ve had many friends in my very long life.” Shaun breaks into a smile. “A fair number of them I would have called my best friends, at one point in time. But not anymore. Not after you.”
Shaun thinks about what Neil’s saying. “I am the best friend you’ve ever had?”
“Yes, you are.”
Shaun’s pleased with that, Neil can see it, but then he unexpectedly turns solemn. “I try to be a good friend. I want to keep all of you.”
Something about the way Shaun said it doesn’t feel right to Neil. “You’re an amazing friend and we’re lucky to have you.” Shaun takes care of everyone—if anyone needs him, Shaun helps, and he doesn’t let anything stop him. “That said, you don’t have to do anything to keep me, or anyone else, in your life.”
“I know,” Shaun claims. He’s switching between folding his hands and wringing them, unable to settle on either for very long.
“You might know,” Neil says, “but do you believe it?”
Shaun doesn’t directly answer him, settling on clasping his hands, but he’s holding them together tightly enough to hurt. “I tried to make friends before. Many times. You were the first ones who ever cared back.”
Maybe they’re both too tired for this, because the admission just…it makes Neil want to cry. He wants to reach over and pull Shaun’s hands apart. He’d hold onto Shaun forever, if that would do anything to help. He can’t stand seeing Shaun in pain, and this is pain, the old kind, mixed into foundations. There might be no getting it out when it’s this much a part of someone.
Shaun has told him enough about his past that Neil’s put together most of the pieces, by now. Shaun had struggled to find friends his entire life. He’d been told, by nearly everyone, that he needed to be different. They told him to change everything about himself, ordered him to be more like others, and tried to force him into who they wanted him to be—which was someone they found easier to deal with. People constantly lied to him, and hurt him, and took advantage of him. The only significant exceptions were his brother and Aaron, the two saving graces of his life who had given him examples of what relationships could be. What they should be. Neil thinks that if Shaun hadn’t had them, he might never have believed compassionate relationships were possible.
After finally getting something he’d wanted for his entire life—real friends who care about him—Shaun often fears losing them, no matter how many times he hears that he never will. He’ll slip back into old patterns, worrying people might leave him if he does the wrong thing, or doesn’t do enough, or somehow does too much. Shaun knows rationally that’s not the case, but sometimes it’s difficult for him to believe it when he’s caught up in his old doubts and fears and anxieties.
Neil decides, right then and there, that he’s going to convince Shaun he isn’t going to lose them. He never has to do anything to keep them. He will never be alone again. Neil doesn’t care how long it takes—he’s going to persuade Shaun he can let go of this fear, because it’s one that will never come true. None of them would let it happen, and Neil least of all.
His opening argument is fairly simple and straightforward: “I love you.”
Shaun blinks in surprise, drawn out of his worry upon hearing a truth he already believes. He slowly unclasps his hands, and says quietly, “I love you, back.”
“You’re not going to lose me, and you’re not going to lose our friends,” Neil tells him. “My relationship with you is not contingent upon you doing anything for me, and I know our friends feel the same way.” Shaun isn’t trying to argue with him, so Neil takes that as a good sign. “It’s okay if you have trouble believing me, or if it takes you time to truly accept it, but it’s the truth. And don’t get me wrong, I appreciate everything you do. I love that you’re thoughtful and caring and want to help however you can. But I love who you are, not what you do for me.”
Shaun’s rubbing his hands where they must be sore, and considers Neil for a few long moments. “I feel that way about you.”
“That makes me very happy,” Neil says, as his resident smiles slightly in return. Shaun’s answer wasn’t outright acceptance of what Neil said, but if he can see it from the other side, they’re well on the way there. Neil has plenty of time to prove to Shaun he’s telling the truth. (A whole lifetime, if he has his way.)
Good thing they’re engaged. Shaun had said that earlier, at the dinner, but Neil thinks he’s going to steal the line. (It’s such a great response to so many things.)
Shaun has taken the lapse in conversation as an opportunity to check his phone again (Neil doesn’t think he’ll ever cure Shaun of his love for productivity) and his expression as he reads through his new messages is somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “It’s everyone,” he explains to Neil. “They are…loud.” He hands over his phone before Neil can think to ask for it.
“Loud, hmm?” Neil shifts his focus to Shaun’s phone, which is open to the resident group chat. It is, as Shaun had described, loud. Endless messages greet Neil, many in all capitals and punctuated with colorful emojis. There are countless congratulatory gifs (did they find one from every movie and TV show ever made?) along with a fair few more that appear to be little other than excuses for flashing lights and colors. Morgan had so thoughtfully texted everyone a photo of the brochure from the conference, and there’s him and Shaun smiling in the chat, straight from page 5. A more extensive scroll proves these types of messages go back for approximately three hours. “Good Lord. What is wrong with these people?”
“They love us.” Shaun manages to sound both appreciative and exhausted by the whole thing. Neil can’t blame him.
“Too much, Shaun. They love us too much.” He flips the screen around to wave the group chat in Shaun’s direction. “This is my proof.”
“They are happy for us.”
Neil gives up his side of the argument, because Shaun’s never going to back down from defending their friends. He scans the most recent messages, which reveal the current hot topic of debate is how long he and Shaun have been ‘secretly’ engaged. No one’s even close to guessing it had happened tonight. “I’m so grateful you never added me to this group chat,” he tells Shaun. “Truly.”
“You are not a resident.”
“Technically correct.” Neil smiles and tips Shaun’s phone at him. “Yet here I am, crashing it anyways. For the thousandth time.” It’s not uncommon for them to end up here, with Neil closing out an evening by getting his and Shaun’s usual harassers to leave them alone. “They’re going to be so happy to hear from me, I just know it.”
“Please be nice.”
“When am I ever not nice?” Neil feigns dismay.
“When people are bothering me.”
Turns out that Shaun might know Neil as well as Neil knows him. “I’ll be nice,” he relents. “They’re congratulating us, after all. But this chaotic three hours of congratulations they sent you?” The frequency of animated gifs is making Neil feel dizzy, so he can only imagine how they landed with Shaun. “They’re lucky I have you here to remind me how much I enjoy being nice.”
Shaun only seems slightly less worried so Neil gets up and prods him in the direction of the bedroom, trailing along after while typing in the group chat: Thank you, everyone, for your enthusiastic congratulations, but Shaun and I are calling it a night. A few quick notes of correction, Reznick is not our wedding planner, no matter how many times she repeats the lie. We have not been secretly engaged for a year, so no one’s winning that bet, but nice try. And no one gets credit for our relationship except us. We do appreciate the well wishes and we’ll talk to everyone about this when we get home.
Neil must have been way too nice because his message prompts a flood of new replies and emojis and animated gifs. Morgan launches into a diatribe about how much she hates it when Neil commandeers Shaun’s phone and promptly gets shouted down by Jared and Lea. The former had never been removed from the chat (and likely never will be) and the latter works at their hospital and the residents had invited her to the group chat because she’s friends with everyone. Neil genuinely likes her and she’s often an ally on his side against the rest—not that Neil needs allies to control the residents, but it certainly helps.
“They’re all insane,” he mutters, as he comes to a stop in the bedroom doorway, watching the screen in amazement. (Although, considering they’re congratulating him and Shaun on their engagement, he’s in no position to judge.)
“Are you being nice?” Shaun demands, taking off his suit jacket and placing it on a wooden coat hanger from the armoire (Neil approves).
“They’re sending yet more heart emojis and seizure-inducing gifs.”
Shaun’s smiling when he turns away to hang up his jacket. “That means you’re being nice.”
“Yeah,” he sighs, rolling his eyes when Park and Morgan start arguing over which one of them should receive credit for his and Shaun’s engagement; Jared is taking exception to their claims. “And look what it gets me.”
“Friends?” Shaun asks archly, sounding much too pleased with himself (Neil likes to believe that’s his influence).
And you smiling, Neil thinks, as he leans against the doorway to the bedroom. His limit on standing tonight is fast coming to an end. “Jared’s trying to convince everyone to record messages of congratulations. Singing is encouraged, he says. How is he more insufferable halfway across the country than he was when we saw him every day?”
“He eventually wants to move back,” Shaun reveals. Smartly, before Neil can process that enough to comment, he adds, “He’s also a good singer.” (Of course that’s knowledge his brilliant resident would possess.)
“No one needs to sing—oh no, they’re arguing over whether he should sing at our wedding!” This is quickly spiraling out of control. “They sent an invitation for a video call so he can audition—don’t look so worried.” Neil taps decline on the request. “I told them It’s never happening. Oh, and now they’re heckling me for it. I’m going to issue an ultimatum in about ten more seconds.”
“You are not.” Shaun takes out a second hanger and waits.
“You’re right, it’d be a pointless endeavor.” Neil crosses the room, shrugging out of his suit jacket on the way, and gives it to Shaun to hang as precisely as he had his own. “They’re hopeless.”
Instead of coming up with some new and creative warnings, Neil writes, Feel free to keep talking, but we’re muting this chat for the night. Thanks again. He immediately mutes it, knowing if he doesn’t, they’ll distract him within three seconds. Now it’s Shaun’s choice whether to go back to it or not, but the notifications won’t guilt him into answering. He’s about to hand Shaun’s phone back when a new text flashes on screen. Audrey Lim.
“It’s Audrey,” he offers, but Shaun is already shaking his head, so Neil opens their conversation while absently pulling at his tie to loosen it.
Shaun and Audrey’s recent texts confirm what Neil caught glimpses of here and there throughout the evening. Shaun (being Shaun) simply could not ignore their friends for hours on end, so he had occasionally replied to various things, against Neil’s advice—trying to appease their friends only makes them more persistent because they learn they’ll eventually get responses if they keep up the steady barrage of texts and calls and ridiculous gifs.
Audrey’s messages are mostly endless questions about their engagement: how it came about and how long have they been hiding it and on and on and on. Her latest message is a hilarious demand for Shaun to answer so she knows Neil isn’t holding him hostage.
Stop texting Shaun just because I’m ignoring you, Neil writes back.
I’m texting Shaun because I want to talk to SHAUN. Crazy how that works, right? But I’m glad I have you here now. We can chat.
“I can’t take her,” Neil mutters, realizing an instant too late what she did. He sets Shaun’s phone on the bureau and sighs. “She got me, Murphy. I saw it coming and still walked right into her trap.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know I’ve been ignoring everyone tonight, including her.” He hasn’t checked his phone since getting back to the room, and come to think of it, it’s in the pocket of the jacket Shaun hung up. “She did an end run around that, knowing I’d step in if she switched to harassing you instead of me.”
“Yes.” Shaun is removing his silver cufflinks, which are actually Neil’s. His resident doesn’t like gifts, but he’ll borrow Neil’s things until the end of time. (Neil occasionally might buy things just so Shaun can borrow them.) “You often intervene.”
Neil does, and not only with their friends. He does it with colleagues and their boss. Patients and their families. Administrators and board members. He even does it with strangers. Neil doesn’t mind shielding his resident from everything and everyone who serves to make his life more difficult. More than that, he enjoys it at least as much as Shaun appreciates the protection. “I might make it too easy to predict my response to things,” Neil admits. “When it comes to you.”
Shaun places the cufflinks back in their box (which Neil didn’t know he still had—maybe Shaun found it in a closet somewhere?). “You could…stop,” his resident suggests, reluctantly.
Neil hopes his expression conveys exactly how ludicrous that suggestion is. “No,” he says flatly, “I couldn’t.”
“I know you tell me I do not have to thank you, but I want to, for this.” Shaun moves closer, but they’re still a few steps apart. “Thank you, Neil.” He reaches over to take Neil’s hand, looking at him, and doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t have to. Fighting with people, confronting them, getting angry with them…those are Shaun’s least favorite things, and he doesn’t have to do them anymore if he doesn’t want to. Whether he wants Neil to be silent support, or to fight next to him, or to take over entirely, Shaun doesn’t have to face anything alone.
Neil understands the value of that, especially to someone who’d never gotten that offer from anyone before. He uses their joined hands to pull Shaun closer, brushing a kiss over his temple and murmuring, “You are so very welcome.”
Shaun doesn’t step back or say anything, he just breathes out and leans into the contact. It’s only been a few hours since Neil learned Shaun likes this level of affection (from him, at least), and he already knows that he’s never going to stop. Shaun is going to have to be the one to put an end to it, because Neil doesn’t have the willpower to do it. He tried to keep more of a distance from Shaun in the past, but he failed more often than not, and that was before he had express permission. There’s absolutely no hope for him now.
They stay like that until Shaun takes advantage of their closeness to finish loosening Neil’s tie and pull it off. “What are you going to tell Dr. Lim?”
Neil might have completely forgotten about her. “I have no idea. I’m open to suggestions.”
“The truth,” Shaun says, carefully draping Neil’s tie over the back of the nearest chair. “Like we have been telling people tonight.”
“The main problem is that this is Audrey.” Neil can’t decide if he’s warning Shaun or complaining to him. “She’s a lot more difficult than any of the people we talked to during the dinner. We also have to see her nearly every day of our lives.”
Neil takes off his watch and cufflinks, tapping the phone screen to check the latest messages. Audrey has sent several more in the past few minutes, each one a new variation of demanding to know where Neil is. He wants to swipe them away like he did earlier, but he can’t. She is their friend and she’s happy for them. It’d be unkind to ignore her at this point. All he needs is a game plan for how to go about this.
He turns to watch Shaun retrieve clothes from the other bureau where he’d neatly put everything away while Neil was sleeping. They’re only here for two nights, and if it were up to Neil, he’d have left everything packed, but Shaun despises living out of a suitcase; it’s leftover from his years spent in foster care and group homes, when he had to live that way out of necessity. He avoids it at all costs now. Even at Neil’s place, everything he brings with him ends up carefully put away in drawers, bureaus, and closets. Where they belong, Shaun likes to say.
And their owner…yes, he belongs there, too. More than everything else combined.
Shaun has taken out a T-shirt and pajama pants for himself, and is now looking at Neil in silent question.
“The warmest things I brought,” Neil says, feeling cold after losing the jacket.
Concern flickers across Shaun’s face, but his question is light. “You mean the warmest things I brought for you?”
“Yes,” Neil grins at him, “that’s what I said.”
Shaun smiles at him, which is good—when he’s smiling, he’s worrying about Neil a lot less. He sets a long sleeve shirt and some sweatpants on the bed after Neil tips his head in that direction.
This is Neil’s absolute favorite thing about going anywhere with Shaun: the after it’s over part. The first time it happened was after an early evening lecture. He and Shaun hadn’t been able to stop talking about it, so Neil had invited Shaun over instead of bringing him straight back to his own place. Before they knew it, they realized they’d been talking for three hours, and it made more sense for Shaun to stay the night than go home.
Like most things with them, all it took was happening once to pave the way for it happening again. They kept up the unofficial tradition, and now Shaun automatically stays over on the nights they attend events together. It doesn’t matter whether the events are work-related or not—and a lot of the time lately, they’re not.
Sometimes they’ll run through the evening, comparing their opinions on things people said and did. If their night was particularly boring (or annoying), to the point that not even complaining will help salvage it, they talk about anything else. Sometimes, if the night’s been difficult, they don’t speak much at all. Which…maybe defeats the point of Shaun coming over afterwards, but they’ve never let that stop them.
Maybe Morgan had the right idea about them moving in together. The idea of Shaun being there with him all the time… It’s way too appealing, and Neil barely stops himself from tossing out the suggestion. He’s made a few joking comments along those lines in the past, and they’ve never gone over well. If Neil wants to bring it up in a serious way, he needs to have a plan, and that’s not happening tonight. Besides, they’ve been through enough for one day. They should probably let their engagement settle for a while before Neil makes a convincing case for why they should live together.
Yes, that all makes perfect sense. (Strangely enough, for him and Shaun it does.)
When Neil checks Shaun’s phone again, Audrey has sent three more texts. He considers throwing it off one of the balconies, but then Shaun would go on about stress management techniques for a while, and he’d also have to buy Shaun a new phone. …It might be worth it.
“So,” his eyes find Shaun, who has retrieved Neil’s phone from his jacket, “no suggestion for what I should tell Audrey?”
“I already suggested that you tell her the truth.”
“Which truth would that be?” There are too many to keep straight.
“We talked about it and decided to get engaged.”
“At some random point in the recent past.” Neil’s already imagining how difficult she’s going to be. “I predict she’ll immediately have 100 follow-up questions for us.” Keeping their answers vague is a good strategy and works on most people, but Audrey is not most people, and she’s not going to let this go easily when she’s been vocal about wanting them to get married for quite some time.
“We do not want to invite more questions from her.” Shaun’s anxious now, and Neil isn’t getting less tired, so he takes a seat on the foot of the bed and extends his hand in offer. Shaun doesn’t need any more of an invitation, coming over to settle in against Neil’s side. “Questions are the opposite of what we want.”
“Then you see my problem.” Neil wills himself to stay sharp for long enough to deal with her, and Shaun leans in so he can read what’s on the screen.
Audrey’s latest message is from four minutes ago: Are you both ignoring me now?
“If I say yes, Murphy, do you think that’ll give away what we’re doing?”
“Tell her the truth,” Shaun repeats, resting his chin on Neil’s shoulder, and he’s so warm that Neil has to lean into him. He supposes the truth, technical as it is, might be their best option (if only because they have literally nothing else).
We decided to get engaged pretty recently, he writes, marveling at the sentence as he types it. This can’t be his life. And yet it is.
Seven seconds later she replies with, That’s it?????????? That’s all I’m getting??????????
“She used 20 question marks,” Shaun notes, getting more comfortable by wrapping both his arms around one of Neil’s.
“Want to know the kicker?” He can see Shaun smiling from the corner of his eye. “This is her going easy on us. Or you, rather, because she likes you much more than me.”
“She does not,” Shaun insists, then returns to defending her in what has become a typical, daily betrayal. “She wants more information. You told her nothing.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Always yours,” Shaun swears, and Neil can’t say anything to that, so he tilts his head against Shaun’s for a moment, instead.
He’s trying to figure out what else he can tell Audrey without flat out lying or inviting a million more questions. Irritating her might be a top priority, as well.
We decided to get married…after a significant discussion. He and Shaun might not have discussed it for very long (again, he thinks it was six minutes, give or take?) but their decision about which path to take had definitely been ‘significant’.
If possible, I feel like I know less about this engagement than I did before your last text.
There’s not much else to tell. It’s true enough if he’s referring to the engagement, specifically.
I’d like to talk to Shaun.
Neil tilts the phone in invitation and Shaun shakes his head, still on Neil’s shoulder. “Excellent decision,” Neil murmurs as he texts her back: Sorry, he won’t give you a different story.
Where is he, anyways? Why is he mysteriously missing?
Neil laughs at the questions; it’s like she’s never met them. Shaun is around…somewhere.
It doesn’t take her long to catch on. HE’S RIGHT THERE ISN’T HE. You two are reading this together!
“She did not use any question marks this time,” Shaun points out.
“We might be predictable.”
“We are doing exactly what she said.” Shaun pulls his legs up onto the bed, twisting them to the side, which has the effect of making him lean more on Neil’s shoulder. “So, yes. We are predictable.”
We don’t owe you any answers about our current distance from each other, Neil tells her.
That means there is none.
You’ll never prove it, he writes back. “This isn’t good, Murphy. I think she’s brushing up on her detective skills. Park has been such a terrible influence on our coworkers.”
Give Shaun back his phone because talking to you is taking a real toll on my mental stability.
Neil waits until Shaun shakes his head ‘no’ again. Audrey believes she’ll get more answers from Shaun (and she’s right), but if Shaun doesn’t want to talk, then no one gets near him.
I don’t think I will, he tells her, getting immense enjoyment from picturing how annoyed she must be at every new message from him. I’m the only one allowed to harass him to no end, didn’t you know?
Is that how you got him to agree to marry you?
Shaun has the audacity to grin and say, “Tell her yes.”
“I harassed you into it?” Neil laughs at Shaun’s complete twisting of things. “I made compelling arguments for why it made sense to go along with it. You made the final decision.” Neil had been very careful about that, as he always is.
“You may describe it however you like.” Shaun actually sounds like he’s trying to soothe him. “You may…semantics it.”
“Oh, I see what this is,” Neil murmurs, as Shaun starts laughing. “You’re very clever, aren’t you?”
Shaun claims I harassed him into it, he tells Audrey. I respectfully dispute his creative version of events.
He DOES want to marry you, right? Since he won’t talk to me directly, I’m growing suspicious. Why don’t you two send me a happy engagement photo? If I get that much, I’ll leave you alone. Until you get home, that is.
He’s all set to send another scathing text, but…he kind of likes the idea of a picture to commemorate their evening. He and Shaun will be in plenty of photos from the dinner itself, but taking one of just the two of them sounds perfect. Plus there’s the added benefit that Audrey will leave them alone (or so she claims)—how could he pass that up?
“Alright, she wins.” Neil switches to the camera and holds up Shaun’s phone. “Simple instructions, Murphy: try to look like you haven’t agreed to this under duress.”
“Dr. Lim does not believe that,” Shaun says while Neil takes a picture, which is terrible because Shaun’s lecturing him during it. “She was joking. No one would ever believe that.”
“Yes, I know. Let’s try again,” Neil suggests, as Shaun frowns at him. Neil takes a few more pictures, just to show Shaun how badly this is going. “See these? We don’t even look happy.”
“We do not need to prove we’re happy.”
“I never said we did.” Neil gently pushes Shaun into sitting up on his own so they can face each other. “You’re right that we don’t need to prove anything. To anyone. But all I said is that we don’t look happy in these pictures.”
“You are right,” Shaun relents, after thinking about it. “I’m tired.” It’s partly an explanation, partly an apology, and Neil needs neither.
“I’m tired, too. And we don’t have to do this, Shaun. I can tell her we’ll talk to her later this weekend, or when we get home.”
Even though Neil phrased it kindly, Shaun knows what that would entail. “We are not ignoring her,” he says firmly, as Neil plays around with a few settings for the camera. They should be able to manage a single decent photo without too much difficulty…right?
“I promise you, this is going to be painless.” When Shaun only looks at him, expression inscrutable, Neil holds the phone up and makes sure they’re both centered in the frame. “I love you, remember?”
The words cause Shaun to smile and Neil has the presence of mind to snap a picture of them in that instant. “You cannot use that trick forever,” Shaun warns, even as he’s making himself more comfortable at Neil’s side.
“It’s not a trick,” Neil gently corrects him. “It’s me saying something true that happens to make you smile.” Which only makes Neil want to say it more (and besides, every time he says it makes up for one of the times he didn’t).
Neil takes a few more pictures, but their tiredness is making it difficult to focus, and the constant back and forth isn’t helping. All too often, they’re looking at each other instead of the lens, or the image is blurry because they’re moving, or one of them is partly out of frame—those last ones are mostly Shaun’s fault, because he keeps trying to ‘help’ Neil which consists of little more than pushing him occasionally, often in retaliation for comments about how difficult Shaun’s being.
“I am not difficult,” Shaun protests, for around the seventh time. “You just take terrible pictures.” He laughs when Neil pushes him that time.
“If you feel that way, then you’re no longer welcome in them,” Neil declares, moving out of reach when Shaun makes an attempt to grab his phone back. “I’ll send Audrey one of just me. Although that probably won’t do anything to convince her I don’t have you tied up in a closet somewhere…”
“It’s okay, you may keep my phone.” Shaun holds up Neil’s phone, which he’d forgotten his resident had until that moment. “I will use yours.”
If Shaun were anyone else in the world, Neil might be concerned. “For what?”
“Anything you have to do that you don’t want to do,” Shaun tells him, so easily that Neil almost doesn’t register what he’s saying. “You have 24 new texts and 14 new emails.”
“Is that all?” Neil laughs. “What a quiet evening.” He’s not even joking; his best guess is that he’ll wake up to somewhere around twice that number in the morning, after the news about him and Shaun spreads through their entire extended circle.
“Most of these messages are congratulating us. I will send the same response to everyone, and you can talk to whomever you want at a later time.”
Neil feels his dread over checking his phone slowly vanish as if it never existed. “Thank you. Truly.” He watches Shaun continue to copy and paste the same message to everyone. It will be enough to satisfy most people, aside from their closest friends.
Amazingly, after only a few minutes, it looks like he’s nearly done. (Shaun is scarily efficient when he wants to be.) “Would you like me to answer Dr. Andrews, as well?”
“Please, go ahead.” Their boss had been one of the first people to message Neil and he’d swiped it away, like the rest, to deal with later on. “I can’t talk to him right now.”
“It’s fine. He congratulated us and I thanked him. There is nothing else here that needs your attention tonight.”
Neil takes his phone back and scans the short conversation with their boss. Marcus had sent a kind (and heartfelt) congratulatory message—thankfully free of emojis or crazy gifs—and Shaun had replied with a genuine, more personalized message to thank him. Neil takes a second to appreciate that they work with at least one other adult, then reminds himself he shouldn’t be thinking anything complimentary about Marcus.
That reminder is justified when a new message pops up in the conversation: I love it when you respond instead of Neil, Murphy. You’re so much more sweet and polite. If you could try and teach him those things, we’d all appreciate it.
“How did he know it was you and not me!” Neil exclaims, though the ‘sweet’ and ‘polite’ part might have had a lot to do with it. He shows the message to Shaun, who scowls at the comparison.
“You are sweet and polite,” Shaun insists, then falters, like he’s hearing his own words for the first time. “When you choose to be.”
“Which is apparently never when I’m speaking to Marcus. His comparison was intended to bait me into responding to him personally, and for that, I’m going to keep ignoring him.” He purposely sets his phone down and returns his attention to Shaun’s. “Come on, we still have a picture to take.”
“You told me I wasn’t allowed in your pictures.” Shaun isn’t happy, but Neil can tell it’s not about him, it’s about Marcus now. It’s only a little after 11, but Neil’s abruptly reminded of how emotionally sensitive Shaun is when he’s tired.
“I officially rescind my ban,” Neil lightly cajoles. “You’re my sweetest and politest resident, after all.” Shaun’s face doesn’t change, but the tension around his eyes eases somewhat. “Marcus has a way of being extremely irritating, no matter what we’re discussing, but he’s not wrong about you.”
“All I did was thank him.”
“Which is more than I did, considering I chose to ignore his message for the past three hours.”
“You were working,” Shaun protests. “We both were. We were doing all the things he asked us to do.”
“I still could have sent back a thank you,” Neil points out, then has the startling realization that he’s defending Marcus Andrews. Because Shaun hates it when they fight, and he wants Shaun to feel better.
“You could ignore him forever and you would still be the best person I know.” Shaun says stubbornly, sulking over it.
It’s always remarkable to Neil when he’s reminded that Shaun views him in the same way he views Shaun. “See? Now you’re proving how sweet you are.”
The kind teasing has some effect, and even though Shaun’s not ready to let it go, he allows himself to be coaxed back into resuming the impromptu photo shoot. Their next few attempts aren’t much better than the first ones, mostly because Shaun isn’t ready to smile again yet. Rather gallingly, he blames their complete failure to take an adequate picture on Neil, with a flippant, “You need more practice at this.”
“I never said I was a photographer, did I? Believe it or not I don’t sit around and snap 50 selfies a night to find the perfect one to ‘capture the overall mood of my day’ or however Reznick explains it.” She’s probably taken 1000 photos at the conference already; Neil’s certain he’s in the background complaining in a solid half of them. “Do you want to try taking one instead?” he asks, though he’s almost positive Shaun will decline.
Shaun shakes his head, taking back his phone to scan the most recent photos. “I do not like being the one to take pictures.”
“Hmm,” Neil keeps his tone teasing, “then maybe dial back on the criticism?”
“But you need it,” Shaun says flatly, as he stops and tilts his head at a picture that’s impossible to make out, the image streaked with orange and red, a result of Neil dropping the phone right as he snapped the photo.
“The existence of gravity is not my fault,” Neil mutters, petulantly.
Shaun stops at another one where Neil is half out of the frame on his side. (It’s a really great picture of Shaun, though.) “You should have held your arm steady,” Shaun has some nerve to say when he’s the reason Neil had moved at the last second.
“You moved my arm right as I took the photo!”
“I was trying to adjust the angle.” Shaun tips the phone this way and that, adding quite unnecessarily, “It did not help.”
“You think?”
“Criticism makes you better,” Shaun tells him, swiping past four in a row that might have been okay if they weren’t completely blurry. He amends, “Criticism is supposed to make you better. It is not helping you right now.”
“Very funny,” Neil tells him archly, though his smile reveals he does think Shaun is funny. “Now, I have a request. Stop being upset on my behalf.” Shaun looks over in surprise, but doesn’t deny it. “I promise you I’m fine. Marcus is always going to be Marcus, and we know that by now, so I want you to forget it. Try and remember how delighted you are that I harassed you into being engaged, and go back to smiling.” At that, Shaun has to work not to smile, so Neil’s on the verge of winning. “Don’t make me turn it into an order.”
Shaun’s subsequent laughter sounds a lot like relief to Neil. “How can I make you give an order?” Shaun asks, in his amusement. “Doesn’t that mean I would be giving the order?”
“Isn’t that how it usually works?” Neil quips. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Shaun he’d do anything for him, because he really would, provided it didn’t hurt Shaun in some way. “Besides, you only follow about half my orders, on any given day.”
Shaun frowns, likely at being characterized as someone who habitually follows a mere 50% of orders. “Only half of your orders are real,” he stresses, rubbing at his eyes. “Those are the ones I follow.”
“Maybe you listen a lot better than I thought,” Neil allows, then considers the matter further. “Or are you an expert at making me think you listen better than you do?” He’s getting the strangest feeling that if Shaun were the type to push people off beds, he would have been on the floor six minutes ago.
“Perhaps,” his resident begins, exasperation in every syllable, “I should not listen to you at all.” The threat is empty and they both know it.
“Yes, you should,” Neil plays along, holding up Shaun’s phone. “We’re going to start with taking this picture.” It’s a matter of pride at this point, really.
Neil must have needed to warm up (he hadn’t been kidding about not taking selfies often…or ever, really), because the next round of pictures they take is much better, due to some combination of Neil’s improving skills, which have followed a steep learning curve, and Shaun smiling again after moving past his latest unhappiness over how Marcus treats him. (How is Shaun Murphy a real person who exists?)
“We’re getting better at this,” Neil tells him, after a few more, “but nothing says ‘official engagement photo’ to me, yet.” They don’t take a lot of pictures, so the best ones they have were all taken by other people. (As irritating as Morgan’s tendency to document everything for social media might be, it means she’s talented at it—the best pictures they have of themselves were taken by her. Neil purposely doesn’t remind Shaun of that fact, lest he text Morgan to come upstairs and play professional photographer, because she would do it.)
“Let’s keep going,” Shaun suggests. “We should not settle for one we don’t like.”
“Alright then.” Neil sets an arm back around his shoulders, adding a sideways hug which has nothing to do with taking a picture. “6 hours later, take 142.”
“16 minutes later, take 36,” Shaun informs him.
“I stand corrected.” He holds up the phone. “Smile, Murphy.”
“I am smiling.”
“At the camera,” Neil says patiently. “Not at me.”
“Okay,” Shaun says, and when he complies, Neil takes another one. “I like smiling at you more.”
The simple truth of that declaration causes Neil to lower the phone, twisting to look at Shaun. He could say a million possible things in response, but he’s forgotten how to speak, so he pulls Shaun into a hug, instead. The temptation to stay that way is what causes Neil to lean back, and he can tell Shaun’s about to ask if he’s okay (or start examining him again) so he explains, “The things you say really affect me sometimes, Shaun.” Neil’s exhaustion isn’t helping him keep it together, either; it makes his emotions sharper and more blurry at the same time.
“I am telling you the truth,” Shaun says, one of his favorite refrains. “You are more fun to smile at. You smile back.”
Neil can’t help doing exactly that. “I’m always going to,” he promises, then pulls up the photo gallery to show Shaun the last picture they took, which is fantastic, all things considered. Both of them are smiling happily at the camera, with Neil’s arm around Shaun’s shoulders, though it’s obvious he wouldn’t have needed it to keep Shaun close.
“I like this one,” Shaun says approvingly. “I told you my criticism would help you improve.”
“Yes, you get all the credit for this,” Neil says dryly, as he sends the photo along to Audrey while pointedly ignoring her latest string of messages demanding to know what’s taking them so long. He hopes she honors her promise to leave them alone in exchange for a photo, but they’re close to the point that he’ll have to tell her they’re calling it a night whether she’s happy or not.
Neil scrolls back through the photo gallery with a less critical eye this time, surprised at how many good pictures there actually are among the entire set. He’d been too focused on what wasn’t perfect (knowing Audrey would be judging it), but all these pictures seem…real. For some reason, he doesn’t go through his usual routine of deleting all the imperfect ones, keeping almost everything as long as he and Shaun are (mostly) in the frame.
He stops short at the first one where he got Shaun to smile. Right after he told Shaun he loved him. Neil’s laughing and (mostly) looking at the camera while Shaun smiles brilliantly at him.
Neil hadn’t looked at this one after he’d taken it; he’d been too distracted and kept going. This is by far the best of all the photos, even better than the one he’d sent Audrey, but he doesn’t feel any need to share it with her.
He copies the entire set from tonight and sends them to himself, then hands Shaun back his phone so he can scan through them at his own leisure. While he does, Neil returns to his own phone and sets his favorite one—with Shaun smiling at him—as his background.
“Dr. Lim approves of the photo you sent,” Shaun tells him, reading the new message on his phone. “She is glad I don’t look like a prisoner, but suggests I might be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.”
“Isn’t she charming?” Neil asks wryly, though he’s amused by her commitment to the joke. He’s definitely going to be answering for this surprise engagement later.
“She is not serious,” Shaun assures him, and Neil wants to hug him for it (though…when doesn’t he want to hug Shaun?). “She says she cannot stand us, but mostly you. That’s another joke,” he explains, for Neil’s benefit. He’s reading her series of texts which are still coming through. “She is extremely happy for us, but she said we better not get married this weekend or she will ‘make us pay’.” He glances up from the phone, asking curiously, “Why does she think we would get married this weekend?”
“She’s joking about us being in Las Vegas,” Neil explains. “You know this city’s reputation, right? Lots of couples elope here and the tourism industry plays it up. There are chapels all over the place, especially near the strip. They cater to a lot of drunk tourists, I imagine.” Shaun’s expression has become so disapproving that Neil adds, simply to see his astonishment, “I heard there are drive-thru chapels where you don’t even have to get out of your car.”
Shaun’s wide-eyed dismay-bordering-on-horror does not disappoint. “I would not get married at a chapel in Las Vegas,” Shaun says succinctly, while texting the same thing to Audrey. “Or while drunk. Or as a tourist. Or in a car.”
“I know. Nothing says ‘not Shaun Murphy’ like getting married on a whim in Las Vegas.”
“Would you?” He sends a quick glance Neil’s way. “Do any of that?”
“I have no real desire to, so no.” He tries to imagine stopping at a drive-thru to get married, as inconsequentially as he might stop at an ATM, or for a cup of coffee. He tries to picture someone, anyone in the passenger seat who isn’t Shaun…but there’s no one else he can see. “I could rent a really nice car, though,” he feels compelled to add. “We—I could do worse in terms of venues.”
“You are not serious.”
“I might be warming to the idea,” Neil insists, his amusement directly proportional to Shaun’s appalled reaction. “Not a lot of room in a car, which keeps the guest list manageable.”
“You are not getting married in a car!” Shaun practically gasps the last word.
“I don’t know…” Neil pretends to be thinking about it. “There are upsides, you have to admit. Did you hear me mention the manageable guest list?”
“I would not get married without my friends,” Shaun protests, because of course that would be his main complaint.
“You could fit a few of them in the backseat,” Neil offers. “Or maybe they could stand around the car. That’s a practical solution.”
“It does not sound practical.” Shaun’s argument consists of stating the truth, which makes it difficult to counter.
“It’s incredibly practical,” Neil counters, anyways. “Think about it, even if lots of guests show up and hang around the parking lot to celebrate, you could just drive away.”
There’s a silence where Shaun studies him, then concludes, “You are being ridiculous.”
“Am I, though?” Neil’s claim is met with rightful skepticism on Shaun’s part.
“Yes.”
“Okay, yes, I am,” Neil relents, as a triumphant smile crosses Shaun’s face. “You’re right, is that what you want to hear? I would never get married in a car.”
“Why not?” Shaun challenges.
Neil sighs, but it’s fond. “Because, just like you, I’d want my friends and family at my wedding.”
“Yes, that is exactly what I wanted to hear.” Shaun sounds nothing other than happy. “Other people like to hear it, too.”
“Shaun, are you suggesting I talk about emotions with our friends?”
“That is an excellent idea,” Shaun says brightly, as if Neil came up with it. “I agree you should do that.”
“For you, Shaun? I just might. Speaking of our friends…” Neil motions to Shaun’s phone, between them on the bed. “You got a lot of messages tonight and most of them were about us.” He’d gotten at least as many as Neil, he’d just replied to most of them throughout the night instead of letting them pile up like Neil had. “It’s only been a few hours, and it’s clear this engagement might temporarily lead to even more interest in us, at least until the news of it dies down and everyone moves on.” If their friends ever move on… Neil has his doubts, based upon their behavior over the past year.
Shaun seems to have no idea where he’s going with this. “People are happy for us.”
“They are. Our friends also tend to be…exhausting when they’re excited.”
Shaun laughs at the description and Neil tries really hard, but he can’t find any resentment for the overbearing nature of their colleagues and closest friends. Not right this moment, when the reminder of it only makes Shaun laugh. “I do not mind,” Shaun says.
You were the first ones who ever cared back.
Shaun had wanted this his whole life. It hurts to remember that, almost as much as it hurt to hear the words straight from Shaun. Neil is never letting go of him. Not ever. Not for anything.
“I know you don’t mind,” Neil says. “But as I said, they are insane, so I don’t want you being the one who’s left to deal with everyone whenever the subject comes up. You know they’re going to bring it up. A lot.”
“You usually avoid it,” Shaun says, not accusing, just a recapping of the truth. “I’m the one who answers people’s questions about us because you don’t like to.”
Neil jolts at that very inaccurate interpretation. “Is that what you think?” He reaches over to take Shaun’s hand, even though his resident hadn’t sounded upset. “That is not true at all. First and foremost, I don’t dislike anything about us, especially not talking about how much you mean to me. It just tends to throw me off-balance and I’m never sure of the right thing to say. Look what happens when I try—we end up engaged!”
“Yes, that was a very unusual way to deal with Jacob.” Shaun seems amused by the whole thing.
“I mostly blame the fever,” Neil claims, and before Shaun can get distracted by the topic of his health, he adds, “I think the way the night went proves it was the right call, even though it was accidental.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“Good. My other reason for why I let you field most questions is that I get very easily annoyed when people bother us—mostly when they bother you. Have you noticed?” Shaun’s smile turns into an all out grin. “So my version of ‘handling it’ usually involves shutting them down completely. But that’s not going to work if we’re telling them we’re engaged. It will drive them to harass you more, since you give them answers. And I can’t have that.”
“Them…having answers?”
“No,” Neil laughs, leaning against his shoulder. “Them bothering you.”
“I told you, I do not mind answering their questions.” Shaun squeezes his hand, like he thinks Neil needs to be comforted and not the other way around. “I like talking about our relationship. It’s important to me.”
“It’s important to me, too. I was thinking about it during the dinner…” Shaun had answered a good 90% of the relationship questions other people had for them. Once Neil realized the imbalance, he’d tried to participate more, but Shaun was too quick most of the time. If they’re going to keep going with this, and add an ‘engagement’ on top of it, that will need to change. “Leaving most of it to you isn’t fair, so we’re not doing that anymore.”
“I never thought it was unfair. I still do not.”
Neil allows himself some relief at the admission. “Okay, but we’re still changing how we go about things. You’re not alone in this, and you never will be.”
“I have never felt that way with you.” Shaun tilts his head, studying him. “You would like to talk about it with other people?”
Neil understands the question; Shaun isn’t sure if the offer is simply because Neil enjoys making his life easier—which is much different than actually wanting to do it. “Yes,” Neil tells him, “I really would like it.”
“Okay,” Shaun accepts, that easily. The fact that he doesn’t argue gives away how much he wants this, which is a good thing because Neil wants it, too.
Neil glances at the bed behind them, tempted to fall backwards and not move for the rest of the night, but Shaun has this thing about Neil getting ready for bed (namely, that he should bother to do it), and his resident will likely want to play 20 questions over Neil’s health, as well (which Neil won’t even protest this time). Before they get to that, though, Neil has to check in about everything that happened today—away from the crowds, away from Morgan, away from the group chat and all their other friends. This is only about him and Shaun.
“There’s a reason I brought up that last topic, Shaun.” Neil pulls at his hand to ensure he has his attention, and Shaun sits up straighter, recognizing his tone as serious. “A lot happened today which is going to change things for us going forward. How do you feel about everything? I need to be certain that we’re okay. You and me.”
“Yes,” Shaun says immediately, “always.”
“Ha, not always, but I do love your optimism,” Neil tells him, as Shaun sighs heavily but doesn’t argue. “You didn’t answer how you were feeling.”
“I feel fine,” he says, then seems to realize Neil needs more than that. “I’m happy.” There’s faint worry in him when he asks, “Are you?”
Neil genuinely hadn’t been expecting the question, so concerned with Shaun’s reaction to their day that he’d overlooked how much Shaun cares about his own feelings on the matter. “Yes, I’m happy, Shaun.” It’s true, and it’s been that way for a while. “I really am.”
“Then I want to continue this with you.” Shaun grips his hand tighter, and Neil remembers that first day in the breakroom, when Shaun had taken his hand and silently pleaded for Neil to go along with him. This feels the same. “If that is what you want.”
Neil motions between them. “This is what I want, no matter what we call it. I love spending time with you and I only ever want more of it. So yes, I will happily continue this with you.”
There’s no mistaking Shaun’s relief, any leftover traces of his worry having faded. “I like…figuring things out with you.”
“I do, too,” Neil assures him. “Everything’s been working out for us so far, hasn’t it?” It always does. Imagine that. “We better hope our luck holds.”
“This is not luck,” Shaun counters, with steady determination. “This is work.”
Neil thinks about that, and about everything Shaun has carefully never said. “It’s worth it, though. Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Shaun says, seriously. “It’s worth it with you.”
That might be one of the best declarations Neil has ever heard. He lifts their hands, ensuring he has Shaun’s entire attention on him. “We make this work.”
Shaun breathes out slowly. “We do.”
“There are no wrong choices here,” Neil promises. “No matter what, I’m not leaving you.” Shaun leans back slightly in surprise, perhaps at the truth of it. (Because it is the absolute truth.) “I’m your best friend, remember? Also, I love you. Also, perhaps most importantly, I don’t want to leave you.”
It seems like Shaun cycles through several different responses before he settles on, “I don’t want to leave you, either.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re engaged,” Neil says, as Shaun’s eyes widen even further. That really is the perfect response to so many things. Shaun can take the comment however he wants to take it; Neil already decided that if Shaun wants to lean into this, then Neil will happily do the same. “Tell me if you’re ever not fine, and we’ll figure it out. Together.”
Shaun’s watching him with something like amazement, and the beginning of a smile. “Okay,” he says cautiously, as if waiting for Neil to take any of it back, “I will.”
“Good.” Neil kisses the back of Shaun’s hand, then lets go of him, because if he doesn’t do it now, he might just want to hold onto him for the rest of the night. “Now it’s late, so start getting ready for bed while I work up the energy to do the same.” Shaun’s about to protest, so Neil cuts him off before he can begin. “Less worrying. If it helps, the sooner you leave, the faster you can return and harass me to your heart’s content.”
“Encouraging you to take care of yourself is not harassment.”
“You’re semantics-ing me again.” That made sense, Neil’s sure of it. “You could have left eight seconds ago and you’d be eight seconds closer to returning.”
Shaun really looks like he wants to keep arguing, but he must also realize compliance is the quickest way to get what he wants (which is for Neil to go to bed), so he gets up and disappears into the en suite. Neil lies back on the bed, half-listening to the running water of one of the bathroom sinks. He knows Shaun’s nighttime routine by heart after the many times they’ve done this, and that would have struck him as strange only a few months ago.
Now, it doesn’t seem like anything other than a regular night.
Neil laughs to himself, letting his eyes shut. Anything they want, indeed.
After an evening spent telling people they’re engaged, Neil has accepted a truth he can no longer deny: he wants forever with Shaun, no matter how he gets it. Colleagues, best friends, fake partners—Neil will take any and all of that—but he’d also love more. The ‘til death do we part’ type of more. He’d marry Shaun tomorrow and call it whatever Shaun wanted to call it. Neil would happily shift their relationship from pretend to real, but only if Shaun decides he wants that, too.
Shaun has never experienced a relationship remotely similar to what he shares with Neil. He never had a best friend, or a romantic partner, or anyone devoted to him for selfless reasons. At times, just like Neil, he seems to forget (or perhaps outright ignore) that their relationship—at least the romantic part of it—is supposed to be pretend. Neil regularly asks Shaun about his feelings on everything they’re doing, and Shaun’s careful answers, the deliberate way he talks around things, has led Neil to conclude that the younger man is trying to decide what this all means to him. Or perhaps what he wants it to mean.
If Neil ever doubted that before tonight, he doesn’t anymore. Shaun had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he wants to continue doing this. That he likes figuring things out with Neil. That working on their relationship is worth it—it’s worth it because it’s Neil. Neil had guessed that was how Shaun felt, but the confirmation is a different thing entirely. It had filled him with a brand new kind of relief, and he’d given Shaun back the same honesty that Shaun had bravely given him: there are no wrong decisions here. Neil means that. As long as Shaun wants him in his life, Neil is never leaving him. No matter what.
It’s hardly a secret that Neil enjoys little more than giving Shaun everything he deserves—namely the thoughtfulness and caring and understanding he should have been granted for simply existing. For being Shaun Murphy. Neil demands that everyone who cares about Shaun respects his boundaries, and he would never make himself an exception. Neil’s not going to corner him, or insist on answers, or set forth expectations. If Shaun needs time, or reassurance, or to test what their relationship would be like if it were real, then that is what he’s going to get. Neil would give him anything, because Shaun is the best person he’s ever met, and the same one he no longer wants to live without.
Neil’s going to show Shaun that he’ll love him forever, and that’s not contingent upon anything. They’re always going to have each other, no matter what their relationship looks like. He’s going to make sure Shaun sees it, and hears it, and feels it, and believes it.
And if Shaun likes that version of their life together…
Then they’ll just have to keep it.
Chapter 18
Notes:
Hi, all! As a warning, this chapter deals with some of the abuse/trauma from Shaun's past – nothing worse than what we've seen in the show, but I wanted to mention it beforehand so no one is taken by surprise. I have not seen all the episodes that deal with Shaun's childhood, so while some details will match up, others will not, and I've taken creative liberties with some of his background.
As always, thank you to everyone still here with me!! <3 <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Neil wakes up slowly, by degrees, and he immediately knows something is wrong.
He has no idea what, though, so he reaches for the bedside lamp without opening his eyes and his hand hits the edge of the nightstand. He shakes the minor pain away, derailed from turning on the light, and wonders why the nightstand is closer to the bed than it should be. Had he moved it and forgotten? Had someone else moved it? And when was it moved, since he doesn’t remember it being out of place —
He snaps his eyes open when reality comes crashing back: he’s not at home, he’s in Las Vegas, at a conference he doesn’t particularly want to be attending. But he’s with Shaun, so it’s fine. Wait, Shaun —
Neil quickly flips to his side, trying to suppress his worry that he might have woken up for a reason. The room is dark but not pitch black, thanks to some light from the hallway, and Neil’s eyes are adjusting enough that he can make out the slightly fuzzy image of Shaun on the other side of the bed. Neil props himself on an elbow, watching and listening until he’s able to discern the slight rise and fall of the covers over Shaun, matching up with his quiet, even breathing.
Neil exhales slowly. Shaun’s fine. He’s sleeping peacefully. He hadn’t been the one to wake Neil—that must have been Neil on his own.
He doesn’t look away from Shaun as he lies back down on the bed, trying to relax after the rush of adrenaline, and that’s when Neil consciously registers how awful he feels. That mysterious sense of ‘wrongness’ which woke him is because he’s sick—and who goes and gets sick while attending a work conference? It’s phenomenally bad luck, but thankfully Shaun’s here and he’s single-handedly keeping Neil together, in more ways than one.
Neil hopes he’ll be able to fall back asleep quickly, but until then he’s content to watch the younger man, taking comfort in Shaun’s steady presence beside him (even if they’re something like 100 miles away from each other in the bed).
Neil tries to get comfortable as the minutes tick by, but he mostly fails. Despite that, a sense of calm washes over him, helping take the edge off his misery. If he or Shaun need each other, neither of them has to go far, and something in that settles Neil. It’s similar to how he usually feels around Shaun, only it’s magnified in the quiet darkness of the room.
Neil is rarely given the opportunity to watch Shaun sleep because his resident is the type of person who goes to bed when he’s tired, which is equal parts fascinating and baffling to Neil. As a result, Shaun rarely falls asleep anywhere other than a bed. The few times Neil has seen it happen have been when he’s gotten home late on a night Shaun was staying over. Shaun has a tendency to try and wait up for him, which sometimes results in him falling asleep on the couch in the process.
It seems the only time Shaun won’t go to bed when he’s tired is if he wants to see Neil first.
The thought fills Neil with warmth, and he’s struck with the urge to move closer to Shaun, which only gets stronger the more his illness makes itself known. It’s always been true that the worse he feels, the more he wants Shaun nearby—and right now his head hurts again, and he’s too hot and cold by turns, and he’s so tired, yet falling back to sleep feels impossible.
Neil would feel better if he could just be nearer to Shaun, but he stays right where he is. He’d never invade Shaun’s space while he was sleeping; Neil’s likely to accidentally wake him, or even worse, if he passes out within touching distance of Shaun, the odds are incredibly high that he’ll end up draping himself all over his resident while they’re both asleep (especially given the way he feels right now).
He rolls onto his back, tearing his eyes away from Shaun in an effort to eliminate the temptation. Maybe if he can’t see the younger man, he won’t feel this restless need to be closer to him? To just hold onto him and not let go, for the rest of his life?
Yeah, right. Well, he can tell himself he tried.
What Neil needs is to fall back asleep. That’s it. Given how exhausted he’s been for days, it should be easy to drift off again, yet sleep feels as far away as Shaun is, a million miles out of his reach, on the other side of this unnecessarily huge bed —
Neil groans and gives up, turning onto his side to face Shaun again; if they have to be this far apart, the least Neil’s going to allow himself is watching Shaun sleep. The younger man’s breathing is so even that Neil could count time by it, and he lets it ease him into as relaxed a state as he can manage. It’s reminding Neil of the feeling he gets whenever Shaun is at his place, especially when he stays the night. Neil is never more at ease than when Shaun is with him, for the simple fact that when Shaun goes back to his own apartment, there’s a constant, pressing worry in the back of Neil’s mind. And it never goes away.
Shaun doesn’t live in the safest part of the city, and his building is filled with questionable characters at best, but Neil’s concern is about more than that. Shaun could live with the rich widow (and her cat menagerie) in the apartment next to Neil’s and he’d still feel unsettled. What if Shaun needs help with something? What if Shaun needs him, specifically? The fact that Neil wouldn’t immediately know—might never know if Shaun didn’t tell him—is what causes him to worry. Or perhaps, more accurately, it makes Neil unhappy.
He just needs Shaun to be okay. It’s really that simple. And the only way Neil can be certain of that is if they’re in the same place, whether that’s at work or outside of it. They both excel at coming up with reasons to spend time together, and Shaun stays over Neil’s place a lot more than he used to, and there’s the small matter of telling people they’re engaged now…
Neil finds himself circling back to his thoughts from earlier: What if they lived together?
Shaun should be safe and comfortable and happy—and he’s all of those things (and more) when he’s with Neil. Shaun wouldn’t have to deal with all the inconveniences—shoddy plumbing and old appliances and fighting neighbors—that come with his apartment building. Nor would Shaun ever have to worry about money, because Neil wouldn’t care if he paid a cent towards anything. Shaun would certainly insist on contributing, and Neil would let him pay whatever he wanted (within reason), but Shaun would never again have to experience going without something simply because he didn’t have enough money.
(The fact that Shaun has had to go without so many times in his life is a real issue for Neil. He has more money than he knows what to do with, and Shaun has comparatively little; Neil would love nothing more than to throw all the excess at Shaun, but Shaun very adamantly doesn’t want it.)
If they lived together, they’d get to see each other all the time. There’d be no more days or nights spent apart. They wouldn’t have to miss each other so much, which has always been a sticking point for Shaun—not that Neil likes it any more than his resident does. Most importantly, it would be a lot easier to take care of each other. They’ve both struggled in different ways on their own, but once they put each other first…things are a lot simpler. They’ll both compromise when it comes to themselves, but when it comes to each other, they don’t accept excuses.
Perhaps they’d both needed someone to tell them they didn’t have a choice.
When Neil really thinks about it (or overthinks?) he wonders if they aren’t halfway to living together already. It goes right back to their inability to stay away from each other. Ever since their talk where Neil reassured Shaun he wanted him to feel at home in his apartment, Shaun has been trying to do exactly that. He rearranges and decorates and buys things (always with some benefit for Neil in mind) and every change is followed by a cascade of questions from Shaun wanting Neil’s feedback.
The truth is Neil loves pretty much everything Shaun does. Their styles are closely aligned, but even if they weren’t, there is very little Shaun could do which Neil would object to—because if something makes Shaun happy, then it makes Neil happy, too.
Living together makes a lot of sense. Almost too much sense. To the point that Neil wonders if he’d been consciously trying not to imagine it for fear that if he did, he might want it too much.
Because he does.
He wants it too much.
There’s no way he’s going to be able to forget about this now that he’s envisioning it, really envisioning it, not idly entertaining a hazy thought of it, or tossing out a joke from time to time. His current (semi-delusional?) mental state might be affecting his thinking, but he just likes the idea of them living together. He likes everything about it. To be fair, it’s not like he’s ever been averse to the idea of more of Shaun. Neil’s need to take care of Shaun is very real, he just never had enough of an excuse to take it as far as he wanted before.
But he has a reason now, doesn’t he? It doesn’t matter that their romantic relationship is fake, their engagement is fake, or that they’re on track to have a fake wedding at this point to round out the perfect trio of crazy. Everyone thinks they’re ‘officially’ together, which means Neil is allowed to protect Shaun from everything in the world—and what better way to do that than to live with him?
Neil lies there for a while, watching Shaun and composing his reasons for why the younger man should seriously consider living with him. Shaun not only loves reasons, he needs them, so Neil is going to give him an entire list, as many as he can dream up, until Shaun concedes Neil made too many logical points to refute—and hopefully agrees to move in.
Unfortunately, imagining how that conversation might play out only helps distract Neil from his illness for a short while. Eventually his focus is pulled back to how miserable he feels, and he realizes he doesn’t even know what time it is, since he has no clue how long he managed to sleep before this inconvenient illness woke him up.
With one last check that Shaun’s still sleeping undisturbed, Neil grabs his phone off the nightstand, tapping the button and wincing at the shock of light, even though it’s on the dimmest setting possible. Once he can blink at it enough to see clearly, he immediately shuts his eyes, wishing he could unsee the 17 messages waiting for him, along with the fact that it’s 1:16 am. He was only asleep for an hour, if that, and at this point he feels wide awake despite the mind-numbing exhaustion. The dichotomy is unsettling, pulling him in two opposite directions, and it’s directly contributing to his current state of misery.
Neil registers that he’s started shivering and pulls the comforter closer around him. He actually misses the occasional hot flashes he was getting before, since his body temperature feels like it’s plummeting. It’s likely due to his illness, but there’s a chance it might not be. Shaun might have turned down the temperature before going to bed, or the air conditioning could be malfunctioning. Too bad the thermostat is on the other side of the room, by the doorway, and Neil curses the distance. He already knows the 20 or so steps is going to take a lot out of him.
Neil lies there for another minute before deciding he has to go look, and maybe get some medicine and extra blankets, or else he’ll only continue feeling worse. He kicks off the covers, almost diving back under them at the rush of arctic air, but manages to drag himself out of bed and over to the thermostat, which reads…72.
Neil’s surprised enough that he momentarily forgets he’s on the verge of hypothermia. This has to mean it’s all in his head, but he swears the room is too cold for the display to be accurate. He would have guessed it was somewhere in the low 60’s, and his mind automatically jumps to other possibilities: Is the display broken? Is it not reading the room’s temperature correctly?
Neil rubs at his arms and taps the display a few times, in case it’s somehow broken, but nothing changes. He turns the dial left and right, and the numbers for the preferred setting change like they’re supposed to, but the room’s temperature continues to read 72. He goes back to tapping it, with more and more force —
“What are you doing?” Shaun asks from behind him, as Neil whirls around to find the younger man sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Before Neil can feel too guilty, Shaun adds, “If you did, I’m glad.”
“I didn’t mean to, though.” Neil turns back to the display, which is maddeningly stuck on 72. He turns the dial again, wondering what would happen if he put it up into the 80’s. Shaun might have some objections to that. “I thought the thermostat might be broken.”
“Did hitting it fix the issue?”
Neil throws him an arch look over his shoulder which is probably lost in the dimness of the room. “Shockingly, it did not.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“The reading doesn’t seem accurate to me.” Neil crosses his arms, mostly in a bid for warmth, and turns to face Shaun. “What does the temperature feel like to you?”
Shaun hums thoughtfully and gives it a few seconds before saying, “71.”
“This says it’s—” Neil stops short when he glances back and sees it now reads 71. “How do you do that? You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m not unbelievable. It feels like 71 because the temperature is 71.”
“It feels a lot colder than that to me,” Neil hits the display for a final time, “but I trust you a hell of a lot more than I trust this thing.” Apparently he has to accept it’s him that’s not working right, and not the thermostat.
“How do you feel?” Shaun asks, and if he were anyone else—if anyone came close to matching Shaun’s record of asking him that three dozen times in 24 hours—Neil would have lost it on them about two dozen questions ago. But Shaun needs to know, so Neil never minds telling him.
“Not that great, to be honest.”
“I think we should go home tomorrow.”
Neil takes a few moments to figure out how to keep this from becoming an argument. “We’re not going home early—hear me out,” he says, holding up a hand when Shaun tries to protest. “If I’m better in the morning, I see no reason not to continue with the itinerary we have scheduled. However, if I feel worse, I won’t want to jump on a plane. I’d rather wait and see how bad it gets, maybe stay here to recover somewhat before going home. If this turns out to be a bad flu, I shouldn’t be going anywhere.”
“I can’t find a flaw in your logic.” Shaun’s not thrilled about that, either. “It’s sensible, so I agree with your plan.”
“That’s how I know it’s a good one, but I’m aware you’d still rather go home, so I’m sorry about this.”
“It’s not your fault you’re sick,” Shaun tells him. “You said you did not feel great. What did you mean, specifically?”
“I have the same symptoms from earlier, mostly a headache and exhaustion—I’m so tired I feel like I could fall asleep standing up.” He doesn’t explain how difficult he’d found it to relax, despite that. “My main complaint is that I’m freezing to death and if you’re going to insist the thermostat’s functioning correctly, that means—”
“—your fever is spiking,” Shaun finishes, as he checks the time on his phone. “It’s been four hours since you last had medicine, so you should have more.”
“I thought the same thing, but hold on.” Neil is already on his way to the linen closet they’d found earlier, in the short hallway connecting the bedroom to the rest of the suite. It’s filled with dozens of fresh towels, sheets, and blankets (and Neil fully intends to steal the latter).
“Where are you going?” Shaun’s voice carries out into the hall. “Come back to bed.”
Neil could easily get used to hearing some version of that for the rest of his life, but he focuses on the matter at hand. “I need to get something,” he calls back, as he begins pulling blankets from the closet. Four is probably fine. Or five. But there are six here, so he might as well take them all.
“What are you doing?” Shaun appears at his side. “Why do you have a stack of blankets?”
“Did you miss the part where I’m freezing? Here, take some of these.” He doesn’t so much hand them off as the stack is already tipping in Shaun’s direction and the younger man has no choice but to grab a few or else risk the whole thing falling on him.
“You don’t need this many blankets,” his resident insists, as he follows Neil back to the bedroom, which is now lit with a warm orange glow from the lamp on Shaun’s side of the bed.
“Actually, I do.” Neil drops his stack on the foot of the bed and takes the rest from Shaun, tossing them onto the pile. “I’m going to use every single one of them.”
“That’s too many,” Shaun scolds, while Neil unfolds a blanket and spreads it over his side of the bed.
“I’m keeping them off your side,” Neil assures him, throwing a second blanket over the first, “so don’t worry.”
“I don’t care about myself,” Shaun protests. “You will be hot.”
“That’s the point. I want to be hot.” Neil arranges a third blanket over his side. “Being hot sounds amazing, and also like something I’ll never feel again.”
“Of course you will,” Shaun promises, as he pulls off one of the blankets.
“Don’t start with me,” Neil warns, “or we’ll be here all night.”
Shaun looks at him for a long moment. “We will be here all night.”
Point to Shaun. “I can’t argue with that.”
“Which has never stopped you before.”
Neil laughs, because he can’t be miserable when he’s with Shaun. He just can’t. “I like arguing,” he admits. “Especially with you.”
“I know you do.” Shaun smiles right back while he refolds the blanket.
Neil eyes him, wondering what would happen if he pulled it out of Shaun’s hands. “What can I bribe and/or threaten you with to give that back to me?”
Shaun ignores his very reasonable question. “You do not need extra blankets.”
“I strongly disagree.”
“Cold & flu medicine will help you more than all these blankets, which will cause you to overheat.”
“What if I want to overheat?”
Shaun doesn’t bother responding to that as he finishes folding the blanket and sets it back on the pile, then retrieves a pill from the packet on his nightstand and hands it to Neil along with a bottle of water. “This should take a half hour to begin lowering your fever.”
“Thirty minutes, then.” He swallows the medicine and issues Shaun a challenging look. “How are you planning to torture me during it?”
“I am not torturing you,” Shaun claims, then disproves it by removing another blanket.
“Shaun.” Neil really wants to stomp his foot, or something equally as childish. “Stop doing that.”
Shaun looks up from the blanket he’s folding into perfect squares. “No.”
Neil sighs in frustration, wrapping one of the extra blankets around his shoulders. “Was I really complaining about the heat outside earlier? I wish I’d appreciated it when I had it.” If it was still hot out, Neil might have gone onto the balcony to bask in it, but the night’s supposed to dip into the 60’s, so he’ll be even colder if he goes outside right now.
“Tomorrow is going to reach a high of 106,” Shaun tells him, removing the third and final blanket Neil had spread out before Shaun began undoing his progress. “You can enjoy the heat then, but not for a prolonged period of time. Sun exposure is the leading cause of—”
“Okay.” Neil holds up a hand in surrender, using the other one to pull the blanket tighter around himself. Hopefully he can divert Shaun from a lecture about every possible type of skin cancer. “I’ll use sunscreen if I go outside, but the high temperature tomorrow doesn’t help me tonight. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t appreciate it if I turned the thermostat up to 90, so I’m going to need the blankets you keep taking.”
Shaun looks at him levelly. “No.”
“Yes,” Neil counters.
Strangely enough, that doesn’t sway Shaun, who simply repeats, “No.”
“Hear me out, though,” Neil says, with a significant pause. “Yes.”
“Neil.” It’s the worry in Shaun’s voice, the hint of pleading in it, that stops Neil in his tracks. He’s overcome with the need to help Shaun feel better. In fact, it might be the only thing able to distract him from the way he currently feels.
Neil pulls the blanket from around his shoulders, tossing it onto the nearest chair, and beckons Shaun over. Shaun doesn’t stop in front of him, but instead pulls Neil into a hug that surprises him enough he needs a few seconds to return it. Once he does, all Neil can think is that Shaun’s so incredibly warm he doesn’t even miss the blanket.
“Okay, Shaun.” Neil leans back to look at him, but can’t bring himself to let go. “Talk some sense into me.”
Shaun doesn’t let go, either. “You’re going to let me?”
Neil is going to drag this conversation out as long as possible if it keeps Shaun right here with him. Finally. “If your argument is sound.”
“My arguments are always sound.”
“How do you feel so warm when I’m the one with a fever?” Neil might be getting distracted from the topic at hand. “It’s not fair.”
“You’re not actually cold.” Shaun sets his hands on either side of Neil’s neck, checking his temperature or his lymph nodes or who even knows what at this point. Neil’s too focused on how warm Shaun is to care. “You only feel cold because your body is raising your temperature to help fight off a virus.”
Neil had known that, of course, but hearing it in Shaun’s practiced, clinical tone makes it resonate a little more. “Do you have to get all medical on me?”
“We are doctors!”
“Sometimes I want to be irrational, though. Why can’t you let me?”
“You said you wanted a sound argument,” Shaun reminds him, with a lot more exasperation than Neil thinks is warranted. His resident can’t be too annoyed, since he wraps his arms back around Neil’s waist as soon as he finishes his cursory exam. “The truth makes the soundest argument.”
“I still feel cold, though.” He leans more into Shaun, trying to soak up as much heat as possible, because he’s probably not getting any extra blankets. “That’s the problem I’m trying to fix.”
“If you allow me, I will help you.” Shaun’s eyes flick back to the pile of blankets on the bed. “Without sleeping under six blankets.”
“You’re right, I probably don’t need all six. Four or five should do it.”
“No,” Shaun shuts him down. “You get none.”
“But Shauuun.” Neil doesn’t care how pathetic he sounds, not when he feels this terrible and it’s getting worse with each passing minute. Besides, Shaun would never judge him. He hugs his resident closer, adding petulantly, “I’m freezing.”
“You won’t be,” Shaun promises.
“You’re not going to throw me in the spa tub, are you?” The idea sounds a lot more appealing than the joke Neil was going for, but he has to be honest, “I might pass out.”
“That would be dangerous.” Shaun must see Neil’s contemplation, since he adds, “Stay out of the tub.”
“Now I want to get in there more.”
“Okay.” Shaun switches gears so easily that Neil’s suspicious. “Go ahead.”
“I told you I’d probably pass out if I got in there with a fever!”
“…So you would stop arguing with me?”
“Very funny.” Neil decides to call Shaun’s bluff, because that often gets him a win. “But if you think I should do it, then I’ll—”
“No!” Shaun tightens his hold even though Neil hadn’t attempted to move. “I mean it. Stay out of the tub.”
“Would I be that reckless?”
“You want to use six extra blankets,” Shaun says, like that’s an answer to Neil’s question.
“That’s completely different!”
“It’s the same,” Shaun insists. “You might temporarily feel better, but you will quickly overheat.”
“Let’s compromise,” Neil suggests, “I’ll only use them until I overheat, and then I’ll kick them off.”
“You said you wanted me to talk sense into you,” Shaun laments, “but you are not making it easy.”
Neil has to laugh at the truth of Shaun’s claim. He knows he can be hard to deal with even at the best of times, and this is far from the best of times. “I’m sorry, I know I’m more difficult when I don’t feel well. I swear I’m not trying to be.” When Shaun just looks at him, Neil amends, “I’m mostly not trying to be.”
“This is you not trying to be difficult?”
Neil bites back the urge to laugh again. “I can’t help it with you. Sparring with you is about the only thing that’s made me feel better since I woke up.” That and hugging him, which they’ve been doing for a few minutes now. Neil should probably let go at some point. In a minute. Or never.
“I think that is the definition of being difficult on purpose,” Shaun informs him.
“You might have a point,” Neil admits. Shaun really does have the patience of a saint to put up with him—Audrey’s always been right about that. “So what would make you happy, Shaun?”
If anything, Shaun seems unhappy with the question itself. “This is not about me. I want to help you. Will you let me?”
Shaun’s question throws him, not because Neil has to think about it, but because he’d momentarily forgotten Shaun needs him to be okay as much as Neil needs Shaun to be okay. He’s so used to putting others—mostly Shaun—before himself that it occasionally slips his mind.
“Yes, I’ll let you,” Neil answers, but again, he has to be honest. “I can’t promise I’ll make it easy on you, though. Especially if your plan involves letting me freeze until the medicine kicks in.”
“You are not going to freeze,” Shaun dismisses his very real concern. “Get into bed. Or don’t get into bed.” He’s trying to sound disapproving, but there’s a lightness to it which proves he’s not upset. “Whichever one will make you do it.”
Neil grins at how well his resident knows him, and it helps stifle his sigh when he reluctantly lets go of Shaun so he can return to the bed. He’s already missing Shaun’s warmth, so he barely straightens the covers before lying on his back and pulling them up as high as possible. Then a new and horrifying thought hits him. “Your plan lets me keep the covers that were already on the bed, right?”
Shaun tilts his head, like he’s assessing the situation, and Neil clutches the comforter more tightly. He swears the temperature has dropped another 10 degrees in the few minutes he was out of bed. “So help you, Murphy. I will fight you. You won’t win.”
“You’re in a weakened state,” Shaun has some nerve to point out.
“Try me.”
“I am not going to fight you,” Shaun tries to pacify him. “I do not want you to get hurt.”
“I can’t believe you.” Neil shifts around as he mildly thaws, getting tangled in the sheets, and tries to kick them into some semblance of order. He must have been pretty restless during the hour he was asleep to have gotten them this twisted. “I’m lying here with a 200 degree fever—feeling like I’m trapped in an industrial freezer, by the way—and you’re trying to provoke me!” He pauses the instant he realizes it’s working and continues, carefully subdued, “You won’t be successful…after this moment.”
“I’m sorry the truth distresses you.” Shaun sits on his own side of the bed, which is so far away from Neil it’s appalling. “It’s clear you cannot handle it in your current emotional state.”
“And you’re still trying to provoke me,” Neil informs him, in case Shaun wasn’t aware. Neil’s also smiling again, because he hadn’t been kidding about how much better he feels whenever he’s sparring with Shaun.
Shaun knows it, too, repeating Neil’s own explanation back to him when he admits, “I can’t help it with you.” He pauses in the middle of getting under his own covers to ask, seriously, “Would you like me to stop?”
“Arguing with me? No.” Neil moves some of the pillows behind him so he can turn his head to look at Shaun comfortably without having to sit up. He might never have hated anything as much as the distance between them. “Being so sweet that you offer to stop arguing with me? No. Never.” He’s aware if he said yes, Shaun really would stop arguing with him for the night, but that’s the last thing Neil wants. “You stay just as you are.”
“Okay,” Shaun says agreeably, if a little mystified. “I was not planning to change.” Shaun switches off the lamp on his side of the bed, casting the room in darkness, then answers the question Neil completely forgot he asked two minutes ago. “You may keep the bedcovers that were already here unless I determine they’re making you too hot.”
There’s minimal light coming in from the hallway, so Neil rubs his eyes, as if that will help them adjust faster. “What exactly are you going to do?” he asks, because he’s rapidly running out of guesses. He thought Shaun might take pity on him and turn up the thermostat, or call the front desk for a heated blanket, but Shaun’s back in bed without having done either of those things. Maybe he simply plans to distract Neil with mundane conversation until the medicine starts working? In which case, Neil is going to spend that time loudly complaining —
“Neil.” Shaun’s voice breaks into his thoughts, and it’s followed by an unusually long silence. “You don’t know what I’m going to do?”
“No, and the mystery is killing me almost as quickly as my body temperature is dropping.”
“It’s not dropping. It’s rising.” His resident sounds mildly concerned. “The fever seems to be affecting your cognitive abilities.”
“I am entirely with it, I assure you.” Neil might be overstating that. Slightly. He rubs his eyes again because he still can’t see —
“I would not say ‘entirely’.” Shaun’s voice sounds much too close to make sense, so Neil drops his hands. Sure enough, Shaun’s sitting next to him, looking down at Neil.
“Oh, hello.” Neil blinks up at him in confusion. “Where did you come from?”
“The other side of the bed.”
“Right, you were really far away.” But not anymore, Neil thinks in amazement. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything else while Shaun lies down alongside him, rearranging the sheets and comforter to cover them both.
“Have you figured out my plan?” Shaun questions, and if Neil isn’t floored enough already, Shaun rests his head on Neil’s shoulder and sets an arm on his chest, hand over Neil’s heart. And Neil’s afraid to so much as —
“You have stopped breathing,” Shaun whispers, uncertainty causing him to become tense enough that Neil can feel it. “I did not think this would bother you. I can move.”
“No, wait,” Neil says quickly, coming back to himself as he moves his arms to encircle Shaun, one around his back and the other clutching Shaun’s hand where it’s still over his heart. “You were right that this doesn’t bother me.”
“It doesn’t?” Shaun’s voice is barely audible. “You seemed…bothered.”
“Surprised,” Neil corrects him. “You surprised me. I had no idea you’d be comfortable with something like this, so it didn’t cross my mind you might do it.” He hadn’t even considered it a possibility. “Hence, the surprise.”
“I’m sorry I surprised you,” Shaun says hesitantly, and Neil hates how nervous he sounds. Shaun shouldn’t be worried about Neil’s reactions to things, not ever. Neil forgets he’s sick, forgets he can’t stay warm, and focuses only on Shaun.
“Do not apologize for trying to help me.” It’s an order, but Neil keeps his tone light so Shaun will know he isn’t angry or upset. “There is nothing to apologize for. This is fine. I promise it’s fine.” He’s still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Shaun had willingly done this, without any hint or request from Neil.
His words must have some effect, since Shaun’s voice is quiet but no longer whispering when he offers, “I will move if you want.” He’s still too tense, as if he’s waiting for the slightest excuse to abandon the entire idea and retreat to his own side of the bed.
Neil has this terrifying thought that if Shaun leaves, he will never come back, and it makes him suddenly desperate. “Don’t you dare,” he snaps, holding onto Shaun more tightly.
(That’s the moment Neil reevaluates his level of clinginess when he’s not feeling well—it’s much worse than ever before, but he’s been much sicker than this a lot of other times in his life…which means the deciding factor in his changed behavior is Shaun Murphy. It’s sobering how much that doesn’t surprise Neil. How much he expects Shaun to be the answer to questions like that by now.)
Neil knows he should probably let go of Shaun, who might be reconsidering his decision after Neil just ordered him not to move. He should be making it clear that no matter what, all of this is optional for Shaun.
The problem is Neil doesn’t want to do any of that. He doesn’t want to let go of Shaun. He doesn’t want to tell him he can move away. He doesn’t want Shaun to go anywhere with an intensity that nearly overwhelms him.
Shaun is the one who had this idea, and Shaun is the one who came over to Neil; if Neil starts talking about how Shaun doesn’t have to do this, his resident might take it to heart, or think Neil secretly doesn’t want him here—or even worse, Shaun might decide to go back to his own side of the bed, and what would Neil do then?
He’s so caught up in his inner turmoil that he doesn’t realize Shaun has solved the impossible dilemma for him, melting into Neil’s side and murmuring, “You really don’t want me to leave.” It’s half-statement, half-question, and while Shaun doesn’t add that he’s staying, his body language broadcasts it loud and clear.
“No,” Neil breathes, relaxing along with Shaun and squeezing his hand. “I really don’t. What gave it away?”
“You told me I shouldn’t dare move.” Shaun’s voice is low, but not doubting or anxious like before. It seems hearing how much Neil didn’t want him to move was exactly what Shaun needed to feel comfortable enough to stay.
“You are, of course, free to do whatever you want,” Neil forces himself to say, hugging Shaun tighter while he does, “but I really would prefer if you stayed.”
“I’m warmer than the blankets.” Shaun’s logic is flawless as always, and while they can’t see each other’s faces lying this way, Neil can hear the smile in his voice.
Neil laughs, relieved to the point he’s dizzy with it. “I…hadn’t even noticed until now,” he admits, astonished at himself. He’d completely forgotten why Shaun moved over to begin with, and Neil knows delirium must be taking hold when he realizes he’s a hundred times warmer than when he first woke up alone. In truth, the warmth he’s feeling goes far beyond anything physical.
Shaun further proves how wonderful he is when he reverses his entire stance of the past 10 minutes to offer, “If you still feel cold, I will get you another blanket.”
“No, I don’t need it.” That, and Neil doesn’t want Shaun to move away, not even for the few seconds it’d take him to retrieve one. “This is perfect. This is…” He isn’t cold anymore, and he already feels more relaxed, and he doesn’t miss Shaun the way he did only a few minutes ago. “You fixed everything for me.” His brilliant, brilliant resident. “Thank you, Shaun.”
“I thought…” Shaun trails off, running a finger over Neil’s shirt, and it takes Neil a few seconds to realize Shaun is tracing an anatomical outline around his heart. “I thought I had upset you.”
“You will never upset me by being close to me. I don’t have the same reservations about physical contact as you, remember?” Neil’s told him all this before, but it bears repeating. “You don’t have to ask me or check if it’s okay. You can if you want, but you don’t need to. I promise if you ever made me uncomfortable—which I can’t imagine, by the way—I would tell you. Just like I know you’d do the same with me, right?”
“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” Shaun says, repeating his usual answer to those types of reminders. He stops tracing and presses his fingers over Neil’s heart. “I would never do this with anyone else.” He says it like a warning, in case Neil might get the mistaken idea he’d ever want to.
“What if someone was actually suffering from hypothermia?” Neil has to tease.
Shaun shivers (or maybe shudders) at the mere idea. “If I could save their life, I would make an exception, but I would be extremely uncomfortable.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not anyone else.” Neil’s still joking, but he says it warmly enough that Shaun sighs and hums in agreement.
Shaun has long spoken about Neil as if he’s separate from everyone else. Neil wonders when he became someone unique in Shaun’s mind, someone to whom Shaun’s usual rules about relationships simply don’t apply.
If it was anywhere around the time it happened for Neil, it was the day they met. (Neil’s own set of rules had never applied to Shaun, but he’d hurt them both by trying to make them fit.)
The thought twists uncomfortably in Neil, but he makes a conscious effort to push it aside. They’ve moved on and Shaun has made it clear he doesn’t want them to dwell on the past. To help distract himself—and because Shaun should know—he offers, “I really had no idea you were going to come over here, but when I first woke up, I thought about moving closer to you. And not because I was cold.”
“Then why?”
Neil breathes out slowly. He’s scarcely able to believe Shaun is right here with him, a comforting weight at his side. Neil can touch him and feel him breathing and hold onto him. “You just…you make me feel better.” Nothing helps Neil as much as knowing Shaun’s perfectly fine. “I stopped myself because I didn’t think you’d appreciate me invading your personal space while you were asleep.”
“I don’t mind.” Shaun’s tone matches the calm of the room. “You could have come over to my side of the bed. You could have woken me. I would not have been upset.”
Neil taps his fingers along Shaun’s spine. “I’ve noticed that by now.”
Shaun goes a step further, revealing, “I wish you had woken me. You said I make you feel better. If I have the ability to help you, then I want to help you.” He clenches his fingers in Neil’s shirt. “Do you understand that?”
Neil thinks about the opposite scenario, if Shaun were sick or needed him for something but purposely didn’t wake him. Didn’t tell him. It’s the exact situation he feared earlier, when he was thinking about how far away Shaun lives, and Neil realizes he unintentionally did the same thing to Shaun—and it’s even worse because of how worried Shaun’s been about him for days, and how anxious he gets in general when it comes to Neil’s health.
“Yes, I understand.” Neil moves his hand back over Shaun’s, where he’s still gripping Neil’s shirt. “If you had done the same to me, I’d be upset. I didn’t mean to put you in that position. It’s not an excuse, but I honestly wasn’t thinking you might be upset. I just didn’t want to disturb you.”
“It’s okay,” Shaun says easily, because he forgives Neil anything (even when Neil doesn’t deserve it).
“It’s really not. It was unfair of me and I won’t do it again.” Neil runs a hand over Shaun’s hair, relieved when Shaun loosens his grip on his shirt. “Now I’m wondering what you would have thought if I did that while you were sleeping? If you woke up and I was…right there?”
Shaun’s quiet for a while, thinking about it. “I would have thought you really needed me.”
Neil has no idea why that answer strikes him as hard as it does, but he has to swallow and take a moment before admitting, “I think that’s always true.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not anyone else.”
Neil smiles once he registers that. “You keep taking my lines.”
“I like them,” Shaun says, stretching as he readjusts the covers.
“I like you,” Neil shoots back, and even though Shaun insisted that lying together like this wasn’t uncomfortable for him, Neil’s aware it’s still outside of his normal comfort zone and wants Shaun to know how much it’s helping. In truth, he’s not sure how he’s going to let Shaun return to his own side of the bed after this; now that he knows what it’s like to have Shaun with him, being without him is going to feel more like torture than it did before. “I feel significantly better now. I don’t only mean warmer, I feel better all around.”
“Good.” Shaun’s relieved, and there’s obvious reluctance in him when he speaks again. “Do you want me to…go back to…”
“Absolutely not,” Neil saves Shaun from having to finish the sentence. The younger man clearly doesn’t want to move, and Neil doesn’t think he’s capable of letting Shaun go right now. “If you’re fine with staying here, then please stay.”
“Okay.” Shaun’s smiling again, Neil can hear it. “I want you to feel better.”
“I do,” Neil promises. “I always feel better with you.”
After that, they lapse into a pleasant and comfortable silence. Neil isn’t certain how long they stay that way, without either of them moving, but it’s quite a while. He’s torn between desperately wanting to sleep and never wanting to sleep again. He’d love to stay in this moment with Shaun for a long, long time—who knows when they might get to experience something like this again?
He and Shaun might be increasingly affectionate (excessively so, according to everyone in their life), but they’ve never been this close for such an extended period of time. They’re lying mostly the same as when Shaun first moved over, which Neil attributes (at least on his part) to a mixture of being too comfortable to move and not wanting to risk moving if it might put an end to this. The room is dark and quiet, but instead of feeling cold and lonely and distressing, like Neil had found it upon waking, it’s warm and comforting and calming. And all of that is thanks to Shaun.
Neil doesn’t think he’s ever felt this much at peace. With everything.
He’s still vaguely aware of not feeling well, the dull pain in his head, and the exhaustion threatening to overtake him. He knows he has a long weekend ahead of him, and patients to follow up with when he gets home, along with a hundred other issues waiting for him, like usual. The first item on that agenda involves dealing with everyone they know and explaining this engagement the best they can. There are going to be endless questions and Neil’s exhausted simply thinking about it.
But while he’s lying there with Shaun, all of it fades into the background.
He’s never met a problem the combined forces of him and Shaun couldn’t solve. They’ll figure it out, and they’ll be fine.
For now, Neil’s going to enjoy this respite from his life. The longer he stays awake, the more he can commit tonight to memory. Maybe, if he thinks about it enough, he’ll be able to come up with the perfect sequence of actions from here on out to ensure he gets to experience this again.
Shaun’s breathing isn’t even enough for him to be asleep, and Neil wonders if his resident’s still too concerned about him to sleep. He might be waiting for Neil to fall asleep first…or he might simply be enjoying their closeness as much as Neil.
“You okay?” Neil whispers.
“Yes.” Shaun twists to look at him, moving his hand up to Neil’s forehead. “Are you?”
“I’m fine.” Neil fixes the covers as Shaun resettles, apparently having deemed him a suitable temperature. “It’s been a while and I could tell you hadn’t fallen asleep.”
“You didn’t fall asleep, either,” Shaun sounds mildly accusing.
“You got me there,” Neil murmurs into his hair, and when he breathes in again, a wave of recognition hits him. Coconut and pineapple. Neil had caught hints of the familiar scent throughout the night, going back as far as dinner, but he hadn’t been able to place it. It’s only now, free from most distractions, that his mind makes the connection. “Murphy, did you steal my shampoo and conditioner?”
In a reaction that makes no sense, Shaun stops breathing. Neil has no idea why his question struck a nerve, but he moves his hand to press on the back of Shaun’s neck and quietly warns, “I’m too tired to resuscitate you.”
Shaun abruptly laughs, which is perfect, because it means he’s breathing again. “Yes,” he admits, “I tried it when I showered before dinner. I should have asked you.”
“You never have to ask me,” Neil dismisses the concern. “I don’t want you to ask me. Anything of mine is yours.”
“I know.” Shaun twists his fingers in the fabric of Neil’s shirt again.
“Since you know I feel that way,” Neil treads carefully, “do you want to tell me what your reaction was about?”
“There was…” His sentence fades, and when it becomes apparent he might not continue, Neil runs his hand over the back of Shaun’s head, then leaves it there. It could be a prompt for him to keep going, or a gesture to reassure him it’s okay if he doesn’t. Whatever Shaun needs it to be.
It’s quiet for a while after that, and Shaun’s breathing evens out, but there’s too much tension in the younger man for him to be asleep. Since it doesn’t seem like Shaun’s going to be able to relax on his own, Neil decides to switch tactics. He slides his hand down to brush a thumb over the back of Shaun’s neck, causing Shaun to press closer and hum something unintelligible but appreciative, so Neil keeps repeating the motion.
“I know something’s bothering you,” Neil murmurs, adjusting the comforter and catching more of the tropical scent lingering in Shaun’s hair. “Will you tell me what it is?”
Shaun takes a breath and holds it for so long that Neil’s about to warn him to breathe again, but that’s when he finally exhales. “I had a foster family,” he says, the words barely there, like he’s not sure if he wants to say them out loud. Or isn’t sure if he’s allowed to.
A wave of ice sweeps through Neil, and it has nothing to do with his illness. He doesn’t speak, which is partly strategic to encourage Shaun to keep talking, but also partly (maybe more so) because he can’t say anything. If he does, he’s going to sound angry and Shaun’s going to feel bad about upsetting him, and then he’ll get it in his head that he shouldn’t tell Neil things like this. They’ve gone down that road before and Neil isn’t looking to repeat it tonight—not when Shaun needs his reassurance more than Neil needs to be angry.
Knowing he’s going to despise every word of whatever Shaun tells him, Neil keeps rubbing the back of Shaun’s neck, this time as encouragement.
Shaun has started tapping his fingers on Neil’s chest in an uneven rhythm. “They did not like it when I used their things, like soap or toothpaste. They said I was stealing from them.”
“That isn’t stealing.” Neil slides his free hand under Shaun’s, causing his resident to grasp it instead of continuing to restlessly tap. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did,” Shaun insists, as Neil shuts his eyes. “It was stealing and it was wrong. But I had almost nothing of my own and they would not give me anything.”
Shaun’s stories about his past are always stripped down to the bare essentials, as if the less words he uses, the easier things are to speak about. Or maybe Shaun’s just being his immensely practical self, only relaying the key points. Whatever it is, Neil knows that anything Shaun reveals about his past is usually a lot worse than he lets on.
“It wasn’t stealing,” Neil repeats, because he will never give in on that point. “What you did wasn’t wrong. They signed up for the foster care program, so they got financial support from the state to pay for your expenses. That means they were stealing from you by not providing basic necessities.” It’s lucky Neil isn’t secretly a serial killer—half the people Shaun had ever met would be dead by now. Is that a crazy thing to think? Does he even care? “What they did was wrong. And you did not deserve it. No one does.”
Shaun’s quiet for an entire minute before he admits, “Using their things still felt wrong.”
“Because you’re the best person I know,” Neil whispers into his hair, causing Shaun to breathe out shakily. “They made you feel that way, and they shouldn’t have.” Another thought fills him with concern. “Please tell me you don’t feel like that when you use my things.”
“I do not.” Shaun turns onto his stomach, bending his arm on Neil’s chest and resting his chin on it to look at him. “I never have. Your joke reminded me of them. My reaction was about them, not about you.” His voice is getting fiercer as he tries to explain. “I know you are not like them. I would never think such a terrible thing about you.”
Neil’s taken aback by the desperate sincerity of that. Shaun needs him to believe it because it’s the truth. “I believe you,” he promises, “and I’m glad you were able to tell me about that family. I know it’s difficult for you to talk about your past, but I’m here to listen and help whenever you need. Okay?”
Shaun leans more heavily on Neil so he can bring his other hand up to rub his eyes, and it makes him seem even younger. Or maybe just more vulnerable. After he pulls his hand away, he stays like that, watching Neil for a while. Neil doesn’t know what Shaun’s searching for, but maybe he finds it by the time he asks, “You really…want to know?”
“Yes,” Neil doesn’t hesitate, “I do.”
“Why?” Shaun doesn’t understand. “My past is…terrible. I know it upsets you.”
“It does upset me,” Neil agrees, wondering how best to explain. “I hate hearing about times you were in pain, or abuse you’ve suffered. It hurts me to hear about you being hurt, but it helps me understand your history, which helps me understand you. Mostly, though, I just want you to feel better. Always. Sharing these things about your life…I know it helps you. That is what I care about.” When Shaun continues to look at Neil without saying anything, Neil sets his hands on either side of Shaun’s face, willing him to understand how much he means this. “If you want to tell me something, I will always want to hear it.”
Shaun nods slowly, and once Neil reluctantly lets go of him, Shaun shifts so he's no longer lying on Neil. He rearranges the pillows so he can lie down more comfortably at Neil’s side, resting his head on one of them as he sets his arm back over Neil’s chest. It’s similar to how they were lying before, but Neil still wants to pull him back to the way they were. He doesn’t, though, because Shaun had moved for a reason; he’d wanted them to be able to easily see each other.
Shaun once again starts tapping his fingers on Neil’s chest, the lightest of pressure through the fabric of his shirt, no discernible rhythm to be found. Neil turns his head to watch him, waiting patiently for Shaun to decide what to say. Or if he wants to say anything at all.
After another minute, Shaun takes a steadying breath and reveals, “That family reported me for stealing.”
Of course there’s more. There’s always more, even if Shaun doesn’t usually share it. Neil’s head spins at the new admission, because it’s so absurd. “They went to the police?”
“Not the police. They reported me to social services.” Shaun taps once. Then three times. Then twice. “It went in my record that I was a thief and a liar.” He sounds resigned to a past no one can ever change. “It warned people not to trust me.”
“You are the exact opposite of untrustworthy.” Shaun Murphy, of all people. Not to be trusted. It hurts even more because Neil has never met anyone who strives to be honest as much as Shaun does. “Did you tell your caseworker they were lying? Or try to explain?” He immediately regrets the questions. “Not that it’s your fault if you didn’t, you shouldn’t have had to… I’m sorry, Shaun.”
“I did try to explain.” Shaun’s voice drops even further and he shuts his eyes. “No one believed me. Once you are branded as a liar, there’s no way to defend yourself. People think you’re still lying.”
“I believe you,” Neil swears, as Shaun’s fingers fall into a more even pattern. “I know you’re telling the truth.”
“I knew you would.” Shaun opens his eyes and finally stops tapping in favor of splaying his fingers on Neil’s chest, which means he’s either feeling better, or he’s too tired to continue the motions. “Eventually, I…gave up. Trying to tell people the truth. There was no point.”
Neil hates all of them. Every single person who let Shaun down when he needed them. Everyone who’d never believed him, or never believed in him. Everyone who’d made the life of a grieving, abused child even more difficult than it already was. But Neil can’t go back and fix it. All he can do is help Shaun now, today, and every day after. Shaun’s no longer ignored or forgotten or alone, and he never will be again.
“I’m glad you told me.”
Shaun sighs, inching closer to him. “I’m glad, too.”
“Was there ever anyone else you trusted who…” Neil’s not sure how he wants to end that. Listened to you? Cared for you? Was there for you? (All of that, and more.)
Shaun seems to understand, anyway. “Not until Dr. Glassman. I never told him what I told you. When he said he wanted to take me in, my social worker…warned him about me. She told him all the notes in my record.” All of them? Neil’s certain he’ll hate those stories, too, but he’ll listen if Shaun ever wants to share them. “He didn’t care what my file said.” Shaun shivers in remembrance. “He did not yell, but I had never seen him that angry.”
“He knew none of it was true.” Neil feels something begin to unravel from around his heart, able to breathe easier for the first time since Shaun began telling him about this. Finally someone had noticed Shaun needed help. Neil had known the basic outline of the story, but not the finer details, and hearing exactly what Aaron had saved Shaun from… He has to stop himself from grabbing his phone from the nightstand to call Aaron, even if it’s going on 2 in the morning. He’ll do it tomorrow, at a more reasonable hour.
“He said he didn’t have time to waste on lies,” Shaun’s voice has gotten lighter, finally sharing something he’s happy about. “We left together that day and I never went back. He took me out of the foster care system. It was against the rules, but he threatened to report my caseworker for neglect, so she backdated paperwork to approve him as my guardian.”
“Are you telling me Aaron basically kidnapped you?” Neil’s going to convince Shaun to write a memoir someday, he swears. “And threatened your caseworker into helping?”
“He did not kidnap me.” Shaun’s laughing at Neil’s description. “My time with Dr. Glassman is on record, but he did not go through official channels. I told my social worker I was going to leave even if I had to run away again. She was happy to be rid of me, and there was no one else who…” He gives up on the sentence, letting it fade into nothing. They both know Shaun had left with the only person who would have missed him. The only person who would have cared enough to bother looking if Shaun had disappeared.
Neil can’t stand it. He can’t stand the expression on Shaun’s face as he gets pulled back into his memories. He can’t stand the mere thought of all the things Shaun has lived through alone. He can’t stand that Shaun had felt, for so long, like there was no one in the world who cared about him.
Neil turns onto his side to face Shaun directly, coaxing him closer until Shaun tucks his head under Neil’s chin. The younger man presses his forehead to the base of Neil’s throat and lets Neil hug him, the silent gesture saying, very loudly, I’d miss you.
“You know how many people care about you?” Neil whispers, after a while. “Who love you?”
Shaun’s words are muffled in Neil’s shirt. “I am fortunate.”
“Other way around,” Neil says firmly. “We’re the fortunate ones. You have no idea how relieved I am that Aaron was there for you. In truth, relieved doesn’t begin to cover it.” There might not be words for exactly how Neil feels about it.
“Fortunate,” Shaun whispers again, pushing back a little so they can see each other. “Without Dr. Glassman, I would not have my current job. I would not have met our friends. I would not be here with you.” He’s staring at Neil. “He led me to everything good in my life. I can never repay him for that.”
Maybe the hardest part for Neil to accept is that Shaun isn’t wrong. Not when it comes to the cold, hard reality of it.
Shaun has enough drive and dedication and passion for ten people. He had the talent and skill to succeed at becoming a surgeon, but without someone like Aaron to help him navigate things, to advocate for him when no one else would take a chance… There’s no guarantee Shaun would have been able to achieve his goal. He could have had all the talent in the world, but in the end it meant nothing if no one was willing to help him, or fight for him, or simply give him a chance to prove himself.
Aaron Glassman was the first one to do so, and it had changed the course of Shaun’s life.
Aaron had seen the untapped brilliance in Shaun and encouraged him to follow his dreams by pursuing a career in medicine. Everyone else had told Shaun variations of no, trying to get him to change his mind or pursue a different path, but Aaron had recognized Shaun’s need to help people, to treat them and cure them and save them, so there was less suffering in the world. He’d known Shaun would never be happy doing anything else.
Aaron had helped Shaun clear the hurdles to get into college, then med school, and watched over him from there. After graduating, Aaron convinced Shaun to move to San Jose, putting his own job on the line to advocate for Shaun getting a position at their hospital. That decision had nearly cost Aaron his career, back in those early, uncertain days when Marcus (and several others) were intent on removing both Shaun and Aaron from their lives. Luckily, they’d seen the error of their ways. Or more accurately, Shaun had proven himself and they’d had no choice but to acknowledge how wrong they’d been.
Aaron’s help had allowed Shaun to achieve his lifelong dream, and given him a family in the process. Aaron is the only reason Shaun and Neil know each other. By fate, or destiny, or a miracle, Aaron had brought them together, and once they found each other…that was it. Nothing’s been the same since they met. Neil doesn’t want it to be like it was before. He can never go back to the emptiness of a life without Shaun.
Before Shaun, Neil was grateful to Aaron for a lot of reasons, first and foremost being Aaron’s role as his mentor for so many years. But after Shaun? Every single one of those reasons pales in comparison to all that Aaron has done to make Shaun’s life better.
To Neil, Aaron’s love for Shaun comes above everything.
What Aaron has done for both of them… Shaun’s right that no repayment is enough. But it doesn’t mean they can’t try.
“I feel as grateful to him as you do,” Neil tells Shaun, “and I’d like to repay him, too. You know he wouldn’t want any grand gestures, probably won’t want any so-called ‘repayment’ at all, but we could still do something for him. Make him dinner, spend more time with him. He’d probably like that.”
“I would like it, too,” Shaun admits, which is all Neil needs to hear to make sure it happens. Aaron and Shaun share a close bond, but they go through rocky patches like any other family; despite their love for each other, their personalities often clash, and it can lead to more friction than either of them is able to tolerate, at times.
But if Neil’s there to smooth the edges, and help them along, and explain to them what the other means so there are fewer misunderstandings…
Yes, they’re going to see each other more often.
“Speaking of Aaron,” Neil’s only now realizing he hadn’t spoken with the older man since his and Shaun’s ‘engagement’, “did he call or text last night? I don’t remember seeing anything.”
Not that he’d gone looking—after Shaun answered the messages congratulating them, Neil had set the issue aside to deal with later. He’d been in no shape to talk to the people he really should have talked to personally, like Aaron and Marcus. Considering Aaron is the only person who knows their romantic relationship has always been fake, Neil’s especially curious about his reaction to this news—and there’s no way the older man doesn’t know by now. (Neil can only guess he reacted with his usual level of disbelief when it comes to anything regarding Neil and Shaun.)
“He texted both of us after you fell asleep,” Shaun reveals. “He said we are ridiculous, so I explained what happened during the welcome dinner.”
“Then he understood?”
“…He said we are more ridiculous than he thought before my explanation.”
“I don’t have a counter-argument to that, Shaun.”
“I don’t either. I did not bother refuting it.” Shaun’s amusement is clear. “He said he looks forward to talking to us when we get home. In person.”
“Guess we’ll be getting a lecture, then.” Neil isn’t sure if he’ll be up for that chat anytime soon. “We don’t have to see him right when we get back…”
Shaun starts laughing. At him. “Are you afraid of Dr. Glassman?”
“What? Of course not!” He’s reasonably sure he’s not. “I want to be fully recovered by the time we see him. I hear it can take weeks, sometimes months to shake off a flu.”
“A few hours ago you were insisting you were not sick.” Shaun’s skepticism is off the charts. “Now you believe you have a months-long flu?”
“I gave myself a second opinion.”
“So you are afraid.”
He lightly pulls Shaun’s hair in retaliation for that and Shaun reaches up to swat his hand away even as he angles himself closer to Neil. “I’m concerned, Shaun. He’s protective of you, so I need to have a plan before we talk.” And on that note… “Why does interacting with so many of the people in our life require a game plan? That is what’s truly ridiculous.”
“It does not matter what he thinks. He does not get to decide what we do.”
“No,” Neil agrees with a smile, “he doesn’t.” He’s glad Shaun’s taking that particular lesson to heart. “But he is going to be difficult.”
“Yes, he is,” Shaun sighs. And it won’t be in the way most might suspect—oh no, Aaron is forever playing along with their relationship in such an over-the-top way that it screams ‘fake’ to Neil, but everyone in their life seems to buy it.
It wasn’t always this way. Shaun had told Aaron the truth about their arrangement from the beginning, and to say Aaron was opposed would be…quite the understatement. He’d spent an entire (extremely long) week harassing them at every turn, listing reason after reason as to why their idea was ‘short-sighted’ and ‘reckless’ and ‘unnecessary’. Aaron had confronted them together on numerous occasions, and when they presented a united, immovable front, he’d pulled them aside separately whenever he was able. The short of it was he’d done everything possible to try and talk them out of this, but nothing had been enough for either Neil or Shaun to back down.
The only reason Aaron stopped was because of Shaun. After a week of the older man’s incessant (if well-intentioned) arguments, Shaun had pulled Neil into Aaron’s office unannounced on a Thursday afternoon, not even acknowledging Aaron’s secretary, whom Neil had to keep from following them by throwing out a hasty and confused apology.
Aaron had been so taken aback at their abrupt entrance that he’d merely stared at Shaun standing in front of his desk, while Neil hung back near the glass doors, having no idea what was going on.
“I know you’re not happy,” Shaun had told Aaron in greeting, “but we are doing this with you or without you. I would rather do it with you, but it’s your choice.”
It had been an ultimatum, just not in so many words. If Aaron continued to berate them about their arrangement, then their time with him would naturally diminish, because neither of them wanted to hear it.
Aaron hadn’t said anything, so Neil moved forward, setting a hand on Shaun’s shoulder. Only then did Aaron’s attention switch to him, demanding answers Neil didn’t have. Or at least…he didn’t have the ones he knew Aaron wanted. He did, however, have one thing to say.
“Aaron,” he’d begun calmly, striving to remain as respectful as possible, “your unhappiness is not our problem to fix.”
Shaun had sent Neil a grateful smile, leaning into his hand, so he slid his arm around Shaun’s shoulders and pulled him closer. When they’d looked back at Aaron, he’d sat unmoving behind his desk, watching them intently. Neil swore the older man hadn’t even been blinking.
“We have told you our reasons for doing this,” Shaun said to Aaron, all those months ago. “You are not going to change anything.”
“I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it would help Shaun,” Neil told Aaron. “If you don’t believe me when I say that, then you really don’t know me at all.” Aaron hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything. Neil hadn’t been sure if it was a good sign or not, but he’d known he couldn’t watch Aaron continue to hurt Shaun without even realizing he was doing it. “You do know you’re the only person we’ve told the truth about our relationship? And that’s because of Shaun.”
“I wanted to tell you, but Neil did not,” Shaun confirmed, as Aaron’s eyes flickered more darkly over Neil.
“You can’t blame me,” Neil defended himself. “I was afraid you’d react…well, like this.”
“Like a rational person?” Aaron had spoken for the first time since they’d invaded his office, his voice the same hushed tone that had once terrified Neil. But he was a long way from the intimidated (and awed) resident he’d once been working under Aaron. Make no mistake, Neil was still equal parts intimidated and awed—Aaron Glassman was a legend in his own right—but the older man had his flaws like everyone else, and he wasn’t right about them. Aaron didn’t understand their reasons, but that had no bearing on their choices.
“Shaun wanted to tell you,” Neil repeated, in case Aaron had missed that crucial fact. “He couldn’t lie to you.”
“I did not want to lie to you,” Shaun corrected. “And I do not want to regret telling you the truth.”
Aaron had leaned back in his chair, evaluating them. “I’m not going to censor my opinions, or tell you what you want to hear. I can’t do that.”
“You can have whatever opinions you want,” Neil tried to placate him. The only thing he’d wanted was for Aaron to stop upsetting Shaun. “We just don’t need to hear about them every time you see us.”
Shaun’s message was a lot more direct: “Stop trying to get us to call this off.”
“That’s your main objection?” Aaron’s eyes were impossibly wide behind his glasses, hands flat on the desk in front of him as he leaned forward. “You don’t want to break up? Wait, sorry,” he’d laughed in sheer amazement, “you don’t want to pretend to break up?”
“No,” they’d answered simultaneously, then glanced at each other.
Aaron had shaken his head slowly, like he was trying to wake himself from a daze. “Do you two know what you’re doing?”
“Yes,” Shaun insisted, at the same time Neil said, “Not really.”
After they exchanged a look, Neil amended, “Sure, we definitely know,” right as Shaun hedged, “Maybe?”
Aaron had been thoroughly unimpressed with them. “I’m glad you’ve thought this through and are on the same page.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Neil said, with significantly more confidence (because of that, he was certain).
“Together,” Shaun added, his tone final—even if there were further arguments to be had, Shaun wouldn’t be entertaining any of them.
Aaron looked back and forth between them, and whatever he’d seen must have made him relent. “Alright,” he’d almost-but-not-quite-apologized, “I shouldn’t have kept arguing with you. I was uncertain about what you two were doing, and I have to say it still doesn’t make much sense to me, but you can obviously do what you want.” His eyes had locked on Neil’s. “I don’t care what you call this, but if you’re telling people you’re in a relationship, you damn well better take care of him.”
If Neil hadn’t known Aaron was speaking from a place of genuine love, he’d have been truly offended. As it was, it had been hard to keep a rein on his temper. “That is the reason I’m doing this, Aaron.”
Surprise had flashed across Aaron’s face, along with understanding, and perhaps a hint of regret. He’d nodded shortly at Neil before turning to Shaun. “If trying to convince you to…end your relationship actually bothers you this much, then I will never do it again.”
Looking back on it now, Neil’s convinced that was the moment Aaron hatched his revenge plot, which consisted of becoming their number one fan, supposedly in some bid to ‘help their relationship seem as real as possible’. After that conversation, Aaron had become their most vocal supporter, in as public a manner as possible. If there’s a chance to bring up their relationship in front of other people, Aaron does it, and he tries to engage their friends and colleagues in the discussions, too.
Aaron still lets his irritation with certain things be known, and it’s not uncommon for him to pry here and there, but Neil’s a lot more forgiving of it since he knows Aaron’s only doing it for Shaun’s benefit. As he’d told Neil, it doesn’t matter how they describe their relationship—Aaron still has to know that Shaun’s happy with everything (and Shaun never has any trouble reassuring him of that).
Most importantly, Aaron has never tried to separate them again. As long as that holds true, Neil doesn’t care what Aaron does.
Back in the beginning, Neil suspected Aaron’s changed behavior was a new way to call their bluff, trying to get them to reconsider how far they were taking things, but of course they never reconsidered anything. They only ever got pulled deeper into it. Aaron must realize by now his behavior won’t have any effect on them, and yet…he still keeps at it. He’ll comment on their relationship, ask them leading questions, encourage them to keep taking the next steps…
But no matter what Aaron has thrown at them, Neil and Shaun have shrugged and gone along with it (and for the most part, they’ve had a lot of fun doing that).
Neil had even learned Aaron was the one behind Andrews’ order for Neil and Shaun to put their relationship on file with the HR department. Marcus had been more than delighted to follow through (AKA watch Neil suffer) but he’d later admitted he never would have bothered if not for Aaron. (“As if you two are ever going to leave each other!” Marcus had laughed, in another alarming reminder that their colleagues can’t seem to envision a world where Neil and Shaun aren’t together—despite it being the very world they live in.)
In light of everything, and given their brand new ‘engagement’, Neil has a good idea how Aaron is going to react after he moves past his shock at how ‘ridiculous’ they are (again, Neil won’t dispute that).
“He’s going to encourage us to get married,” Neil tells Shaun, who nods in agreement. They’re still lying on their sides facing each other, but they’re no longer touching, so Neil’s mind keeps insisting they’re too far apart. (And how is he supposed to explain that to Shaun when all of three inches might separate them?)
“That is my guess,” Shaun says, oblivious to his inner struggle. He pushes the covers back a little, probably getting too warm. “He will offer to help plan it. Or to officiate. Or to pay for it.”
“He’ll probably go for the trifecta and attempt all three.” Neil rubs at the back of his neck, grateful that his headache is receding, which means the medicine must be kicking in. “We need to keep him and Morgan away from each other at all costs. They’ll team up behind our backs and plan an entire wedding. In fact, I’m surprised they haven’t been doing that already.”
“They could be,” Shaun horrifyingly points out. “We might not know.”
Neil’s grateful for the temporary distraction from missing Shaun. Who’s right in front of him. “Don’t put such ideas out into the world, Murphy.”
“You mentioned the possibility first!”
Neil ignores that true fact. “Just picture it, Shaun. Even if we insist we want to get married at some point in the far off, distant future, they won’t be content to wait. They’re likely to drag us to a reception hall or a local park or some mid-century renovated barn somewhere, and then we’ll be attending our own wedding whether we like it or not.”
“A renovated barn?” Shaun hums thoughtfully. “Morgan told me that ‘rustic’ is a current trend.”
“Where do you think I heard it?” No matter how much Neil tries to tune Morgan out, at least half of her random tangents make it through and his traitorous brain remembers them. “The furniture will be made of reclaimed wood and there will be fairy lights everywhere and she’ll have picture collages of us as a couple.” It’s disconcertingly clear in his mind. “Imagine the nightmare of a speech she’ll give about how we make her believe in love. She’ll probably come up with ten new adverbs just to irritate me!”
“I think any speech Morgan gave would be heartfelt.”
Neil can hardly believe what he’s hearing. “Are you defending her?”
“You defend her, too.”
“Not over wedding planning,” Neil protests. “There’s a big difference!”
“I think anything Morgan suggested would be better than getting married in a car.”
“I still think the drive-thru idea has merit,” Neil sulks. “Why are you defending her, anyways? You’re the one who keeps reminding her she isn’t a wedding planner.”
“Because she isn’t. She has never actually planned a wedding.” Shaun shrugs, face softening into nearly-a-smile. “I think she would be good at it.”
“Murphy, you can’t be serious.”
“You liked everything she suggested earlier.”
Neil had, as much as it pains him to admit. “We’ve talked about you using the truth against me.”
Shaun’s smile is fully there now. “She is going to bring up wedding planning all the time,” he warns.
Neil’s slowly realizing the awful truth of it. “You’re right. We’re the only engaged couple she knows.”
“I do not want to fight with her or ignore her.”
“You’re not suggesting we hire her, are you?” Neil’s incredibly conflicted. “Shaun, I hate denying you anything, but you know how Morgan is. She will be unbearable if we give her that much power in an official capacity.”
“I do not want to hire her,” Shaun assures him. “We can tell her it’s too early to plan a wedding, but we will listen to her ideas and provide feedback.”
“So it’ll keep her happy and make our lives easier.” All while entertaining ideas about their hypothetical future wedding. Ideas which they’d naturally have to picture with each other, and which they might find themselves liking, and Shaun was the one who’d suggested it… Neil’s suddenly a lot more on board with this than he was 30 seconds ago. “Alright, I like your plan.”
Shaun’s expression gets even brighter. “She will be happy that we’re helping her refine her skills.”
“Helping Morgan refine her wedding planning skills.” Neil’s amazed he can say that without the slightest worry or trepidation. “Is this what our lives have become?”
“She’s our friend,” Shaun says, like that’s enough of an answer.
“You always throw that excuse around.”
“It’s not an excuse,” Shaun’s fondly exasperated with him, “it’s a reason.”
“There you go with the semantics again.”
“She will appreciate it,” Shaun assures him. When Neil’s only answer is a playfully exaggerated sigh, Shaun pushes at his shoulder until Neil takes the hint and lies on his back again. Shaun sits up next to him, pulling the covers back a bit and studying Neil. “How do you feel?”
Neil stops himself from saying he hates that Shaun’s so far away because the thought doesn’t make any more sense than it did five minutes ago. Shaun’s right here, and the actual issue is that Neil’s too clingy when he’s sick—he’s established this—and yet he finds himself wondering…would it be so bad to admit it? Shaun said he wants to know when he can help, and Neil had promised Shaun (both of them, really) that he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
“Neil,” Shaun says quietly, new worry crossing his face at Neil’s extended silence.
He tries to gather himself enough to form a coherent answer. “I’m feeling better. My head doesn’t hurt and I’m not freezing anymore, though that might be thanks to the company.”
“Or the medicine,” Shaun suggests, humor returning as his concern fades.
“No.” Neil shakes his head, because he knows that isn’t it. “It’s definitely the company.”
Shaun’s pleased with that. “I am a doctor.”
“Quite the amazing one,” Neil agrees. “Someone’s doing a fantastic job of teaching you.”
“Yes, I have learned a lot from Dr. Lim.”
“That’s how it is, huh?” Neil narrows his eyes while Shaun laughs at his own joke. “You do know it’s you that makes me feel better, not the fact that you’re a doctor, right?” Shaun remains silent, so Neil explains, “You could do anything, Shaun. You could be a professor, or a bank teller, or a barista at my favorite coffee shop, and I’d still feel exactly the same about you.”
“A barista?” Shaun thinks about that, concluding, “You’d be a very difficult customer.”
“I would, but only with you,” Neil agrees, with a grin. “And don’t get me wrong, I love that you’re my resident and wouldn’t want it any other way—and not only because you’re a genius who makes me look good by association.”
“You don’t need anyone to make you look good,” Shaun tells him, and from anyone else it’d be a joke, but from Shaun it’s serious.
“That’s true,” Neil laughs, “but what’s the point in having residents if I can’t take credit for their brilliant ideas?”
“You would not do that,” Shaun says, either missing the joke, or wanting to argue the point anyways, lest Neil believe that Shaun might ever think anything but the best of him.
It makes Neil miss him even more than he already does, and something inside him snaps. He doesn’t ask, or try to hint around, or launch into an explanation of how he feels. He just holds out a hand to Shaun and says, “Come back here.”
Shaun complies fast enough that Neil wonders if he was waiting to hear it. Neil helps Shaun rearrange the covers so he can lie down next to Neil, folding his arms on Neil’s chest and setting his chin on top of them. Once he’s settled, he smiles at Neil, and everything’s right in Neil’s world again.
Neil hugs him for a few seconds, leaving his hands loosely on Shaun’s back when he lets go. “Is this fine?”
“If it was not fine, I would not be here.” He’s watching Neil closely. “This helps?”
“I told you, more than the medicine.”
Shaun laughs a little, because he thinks Neil’s joking. “That’s not true.”
“If I say it’s true, then it’s true.” Neil waits for Shaun to nod that he understands. The younger man seems significantly more tired than just a few minutes ago, and Neil probably isn’t far from sleep himself, especially if Shaun stays with him. He slides his hand to the back of Shaun’s neck to check how warm he feels. “How are you?”
“How am I?” Shaun’s confused by the question. “I am not sick.”
“No, but I wanted to make sure you’re fine. After all, you’ve been lying here with me, under the covers—you’re not too warm, are you?”
Shaun presses closer to him, like he’s worried Neil might try to push him away. “I am comfortable.”
“Good. Me, too.” Neil runs his hand up and down Shaun’s back, trying to convey that he has no plans to put more distance between them. “I wanted to be sure. And I don’t want you to catch what I have, either, but that ship probably sailed a while ago.”
“We spend enough time together that I would have caught it before you exhibited symptoms,” Shaun says in agreement.
“I’m sorry,” Neil murmurs. “The last thing I want is for you to feel miserable because of me.”
“It would not be because of you.” Shaun’s too amused for the topic at hand, which makes Neil feel better since it means Shaun’s not upset over potentially getting sick. “It would be due to an illness you had no control over and which you did not intend to give me. It would not be your fault.”
“Still feels like it would.” Neil’s already planning ways to fix it. “If you start feeling sick, you have to tell me so I can return the favor and take care of you.”
Predictably, Shaun balks at that. “You do not have to—”
“Stop right there,” Neil cuts him off. “Were you under the impression that was optional?”
Shaun huffs out a breath, turning his head to the side on Neil’s chest and stretching as he gets more comfortable. “I would not need you to,” he insists, speech coming slower, “but if it made you feel better, then I would let you.”
“Of course it would make me feel better.” It’s probably the only thing that would ease Neil’s guilt if Shaun got sick. “And you wouldn’t be letting me do anything—no more than I let you take care of me this weekend. Which is not to say that I wanted to refuse, but I didn’t have much choice, did I?”
“You have to be okay,” Shaun says quietly, by way of an answer, and hugs Neil closer. “You have to be.”
Neil knows that feeling, the painful intensity of it that strikes him at times, more frequently than it used to. He lets his eyes drift shut. Shaun’s with him and he’s perfectly fine and Neil doesn’t have to guess or imagine or worry. He knows that Shaun’s okay and the reassurance of that, the comfort of it… Yes, he understands exactly what Shaun’s trying to say. What he’s feeling. It’s the same.
“I’m okay,” Neil says quietly, kissing the top of his head. “Because of you.”
Something about the promise allows Shaun to unwind even further, whatever tension was left in him evaporating. He breathes out slowly, entire body becoming heavier, and murmurs something Neil doesn’t quite catch. Only a few minutes later, Neil realizes that he’s fallen asleep.
As it turns out, that was the only thing Neil needed in order to fall asleep, too.
Notes:
This should be the end of Las Vegas, which became about 3x as long as my original plan (so the usual!) and sets up a few final plot lines. I hope everyone enjoyed the role reversal of the arc, and this chapter in particular, with Shaun caring for Neil in the same way Neil usually cares for him. The original plan for this story had Shaun getting sick on their trip, but then I wondered how they’d react if the situation were flipped... (And of course, Neil can't help but take care of Shaun while Shaun helps him because that's how Neil's wired.)
Thank you to everyone who has left kind words and encouragement! I love hearing people's thoughts/comments/suggestions/reactions. You have all kept me going for quite literally years and I appreciate it more than words can say. <3 <3
Chapter 19
Notes:
I debated a few ideas on how best to start the final phase of this story and settled on a dinner with Aaron. We haven't seen him too much, but he's been in the background this whole time, and oh, how he suffers...
Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed this story along with me, especially those who have left kind comments and encouragement, I appreciate each and every one of you! <3 <3 <3
Chapter Text
“This might be the quietest car ride we’ve ever had, Murphy.”
Neil idly taps his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting to see if his resident will respond to his…oh, tenth or so attempt at starting a conversation? Outside the car windows, the sun is setting, but that’s not what’s making it so dark. Heavy gray clouds are gathering in the distance, promising thunderstorms later this evening, and Neil hopes they won’t be as bad as some forecasts predict, because Shaun doesn’t like storms.
Shaun doesn’t tear his gaze away from where he’s staring out the passenger side window, taking in the clouds along with Neil, but he does give more than a one word answer for the first time since he got into Neil’s car a half hour ago. “Neither of us is talking.”
“Actually, we are currently talking. Finally.”
Shaun exhales a little too sharply. “Okay. We weren’t talking before.”
“Do I exasperate you, Shaun?”
“Only when you are talking,” Shaun says, unable to keep the smile off his face when Neil laughs.
“This is better,” Neil declares, tapping his fingers—impatiently now—as they wait at a red light, stuck in the worst Friday afternoon traffic he’s seen in months. This is why he never goes anywhere. A perfect evening for Neil is relaxing at home with Shaun, having a quiet dinner and chatting about their day. He shakes off the thought, because it’s making him want to turn the car around so his dream can become a reality. “You should always be talking to me, Murphy. Not sitting in worried silence.”
“I’m not worried,” Shaun tries to claim. “I am…concerned.”
“About dinner?” Neil asks, as Shaun nods, still staring out the window.
They’re currently on their way to Aaron’s house for a long overdue evening together, since they haven’t been there in nearly three months. They got back from Las Vegas over two weeks ago, and they’d agreed they should get together as soon as possible, but this is the first time their schedules have lined up enough to plan an evening around it. Neil has a good idea of what to expect from Aaron: likely a lecture of some sort about responsible decisions before the older man’s comfortable enough to get back to annoying them with his exaggerated support, interspersed with pointed and occasionally critical comments. Shaun’s aware of it, too—hence the younger man’s worry…or as he prefers to call it, concern.
“We’ll be fine,” Neil gently reminds him. “We’ve been dealing with Aaron for over a year now, back to before we began our arrangement.” His resident doesn’t say anything, but then again, he doesn’t have to when Neil already knows what he’s thinking. “I promise you it’s going to be fine.”
“Yes,” Shaun says, more to himself than Neil. “It will probably be fine.”
“What are you concerned Aaron might do?” Neil keeps the question light, even if there’s an order in it. They really need to talk about this before they get to Aaron’s. If Neil had known Shaun was this anxious, he would have insisted on talking before they left his apartment. After another minute of silence, he warns, “Don’t make me start complaining about how quiet it is again. I will annoy you until you give in.”
“You’re good at that,” Shaun remarks, as Neil sends him a scolding look that Shaun can’t even appreciate, since he’s still looking out the window.
“Do you think he’ll be upset with us?” Neil prompts, switching his attention between Shaun and the road. “About the engagement?”
They’ve seen Aaron plenty of times around the hospital since they got back, though they haven’t had much time to talk. The most they’d exchanged on the subject was when Aaron congratulated them very loudly while they were standing in line at the hospital’s coffee shop. It had given permission to the half dozen other people waiting in line to congratulate them, as well. Shaun had politely thanked everyone, then let Neil answer the few questions they got, taking Neil up on his offer to contribute more in that regard.
Neil felt he’d handled it pretty well, providing just enough information to satisfy their colleagues’ curiosity, while making it clear (though not in so many words) that he expected everyone to continue respecting their space and privacy—Shaun’s space and privacy, in particular. Thankfully, Neil has a lot of practice getting that message across, and most people are aware by now that it’s extremely unwise to bother or harass Shaun in any way, even if it’s just to demand information about their engagement. For the most part since then, barring the occasional inquiry here and there, they’ve been left alone.
(Correction: they’ve been left alone by their co-workers and acquaintances, but their friends are another infuriating matter entirely.)
“I do not think he’ll be upset with us,” Shaun says, in answer to his questions. “I am concerned he’ll be upset with you.”
“How so?”
“Dr. Glassman often blames you for decisions that we make together.”
Isn’t that the truth. Not that Neil can fault him for it. Aaron loves Shaun like a son, always trying to protect him even when Shaun doesn’t need it, and the older man’s still in the process of learning that Shaun will never need to be protected from Neil. As such, no matter how much Aaron might occasionally get on his nerves, Neil never gets truly angry with him. Not when the older man is simply trying to ensure Shaun’s okay.
“You’re right that he has a tendency to blame me, but we talked about this, remember?” Neil reaches over to rub his arm, trying to set the younger man at ease while also encouraging Shaun to look at him. “Aaron has been nothing but accepting about the engagement the few times it’s come up.”
Shaun sighs, but gives in easily enough, turning to face Neil. “He might be waiting to complain until we are alone with him.”
“I know he’s used that tactic before, but if I recall, when I brought up my own worries about this, you were the one who reminded me it doesn’t matter what he thinks. Or what anyone thinks.” They’d discussed it back in Las Vegas and Shaun’s certainty on that point had gone a long way toward easing Neil’s mind about whether they’d made the right decision to play along when people mistakenly believed they were engaged.
“His opinion has no bearing on what we do,” Shaun agrees, “but I still do not want him to be upset with you. It’s not fair.” His emphasis on the last word reminds Neil how much Shaun longs for that, in all things. “I was half of the decision,” he adds, which is significantly understating it since Shaun had the final say, like always. If he’d expressed any dislike or discomfort with the idea, Neil wouldn’t have let them go along with it.
“We don’t know that Aaron will be upset,” Neil reminds him—Shaun has a habit of expecting the worst because it’s what he’s experienced so often in his life. “You’re picturing the worst case scenario. For all we know, he’ll skip right past the lectures and move on to being thrilled for us instead. Or as ‘thrilled’ as Aaron can ever get. I know a lot of his over-the-top enthusiasm about our relationship is meant to annoy us.”
“He does not understand us.” Shaun tips his head back, briefly shutting his eyes. “I do not know if he ever will.”
“It doesn’t matter if he does or not.” Neil wishes they weren’t driving so he could hug Shaun. He settles for squeezing his shoulder instead. “We understand us. That’s all that matters.”
Shaun’s unhappiness finally gives way to a small smile. “Yes, it is.”
Neil returns the smile before turning to glare at the cars around them which are barely moving. If they get through the next handful of traffic lights, it’ll be an easy drive the rest of the way to Aaron’s. Or they could just go home. “Shaun, tell me if you want to cancel.” He tries to keep the hope out of his voice. “We could call and say we want to reschedule for another time.”
Shaun instantly switches to lecturing (one of his favorite modes with Neil). “The solution to everything is not canceling.”
“That’s hilarious coming from the person who’s always encouraging me to skip events.”
“I do not like most events.” Shaun’s completely unapologetic. “And we do not have to skip anything work-related for another six weeks.”
Neil will never stop loving that reminder. They’re two weeks into their temporary reprieve from work events that happen outside of their shifts, and it’s been the best thing for Neil’s mental health since…well, since he met Shaun. “Thanks again for our break, by the way.”
“You are the one who got Dr. Andrews to agree,” Shaun brushes aside the credit.
“I did have to join the event planning committee, but aren’t I lucky that my favorite resident decided to join with me?” he teases. “At least I have you there to keep me sane.” They’ve attended two meetings so far, and while it isn’t Neil’s favorite way to spend time, Shaun enjoys everything about it. His enthusiasm alone has made it tolerable for Neil—well, that and contradicting Marcus at every turn. Neil and Shaun are also the only ones with good ideas about anything, so the committee is damn lucky to have them (which Neil makes sure to remind everyone at regular intervals).
“Dr. Andrews told me there has been a surge of interest in people wanting to join. He had to form a waitlist.”
“Don’t tell me it’s because of us.” Neil’s trying to make a joke, but Shaun’s nod confirms it’s the truth. “What is wrong with our colleagues?” (It’s a question Neil asks daily.)
“They like spending time with us,” Shaun offers.
“You’re right, that is what’s wrong with them.”
Shaun makes a show of exhaling to ensure Neil sees how much he suffers. “You know my answer was serious. They want to spend time with us. They like us.”
“What they like is watching us so they can have more to gossip about,” Neil complains, but there’s no heat to it. He can’t really blame people for wanting to spend time with Shaun, nor is he that worried about anyone trying to invade their privacy—Neil will happily shut them down in an instant (unless Shaun asks him to play nice). “As to giving me credit for our time off, you know that Marcus only agreed because of you. If I had been asking for myself, he never would have gone for it.”
“He is not fair to you.” Shaun’s expression darkens, matching the sky outside. “You deserve everything I get.”
The words reverberate in Neil’s mind, a sentiment so familiar it’s painful. “Funny, Murphy.” He’s reaching over to brush his thumb across the frown lines on Shaun’s forehead before he consciously registers the action. “That’s what I’m always thinking about you.”
Shaun’s face clears, his annoyance with their boss replaced by a slow, sunny smile which causes Neil to drop his hand in satisfaction. “You don’t just think it,” Shaun tells him, with renewed brightness. “You make sure it happens.”
“I want you to be happy.” Of everyone Neil knows, Shaun deserves it the most. “That’s why I’m reminding you we can cancel. If you don’t feel up to visiting Aaron, we don’t have to. We can reschedule and talk to him about the engagement beforehand, so we don’t have to worry about him potentially ambushing us.”
Shaun thinks about that for a few minutes, watching the traffic light change through an entire cycle while their car remains at a standstill. The significant wait makes Neil realize how much this has been bothering Shaun, and he’s mentally preparing to call Aaron with their excuse when Shaun resolutely shakes his head and decides, “No, I want to go.”
Neil takes advantage of the stopped traffic to face Shaun fully. “Look at me.” Once he does, Neil asks, “You’re certain?”
Shaun nods once, and Neil recognizes the determination in him, despite his apprehension. It’s one of the (many) things he loves about Shaun. “Yes, I’m certain.”
“Then we’ll go.” Cars creep forward when the light turns green, but they don’t get very far before it turns red again. “But if you change your mind, say the word.”
“Do you want to cancel?” Shaun offers, as if he weren’t lecturing Neil five minutes ago about his propensity to ditch things at the last minute. “I know you were afraid of Dr. Glassman’s reaction to our engagement—”
“I wasn’t afraid!” Neil exclaims. “I was…concerned.” That word does sound a lot better—if Shaun’s using it to replace ‘worried’, then Neil’s using it to replace ‘afraid’. (…Not that he’s afraid of Aaron.)
“We can postpone if you want to,” Shaun persists.
“No, I want to go, just like you.” If Shaun won’t back out, there’s no way Neil will, either. “Everything will be fine. I’m sure he’ll have a few things to say, but he’s not going to fight with us or try to make us reconsider. He doesn’t do that anymore.”
“I know, but I don’t like it when he’s upset with you.” Shaun sinks further down in his seat. “It makes me angry.”
“I hope you’re ready to defend me, Murphy,” Neil says lightly, trying to keep Shaun from getting too worked up.
“I am,” Shaun says, quickly enough that Neil realizes he’d already been planning to do just that.
“That is very sweet of you, and I look forward to hearing it if it’s necessary, but let’s hope it won’t be. Trust me when I promise you that tonight will be fine, okay?” He reaches over to grip Shaun’s shoulder, because something in Neil can never stay away from Shaun when he’s anxious, and it’s only gotten worse since Las Vegas, when Shaun admitted he liked it. “If it’s not fine, then we’ll make it fine.”
Shaun relaxes the most he has since he got into the car, tension dissolving as he presses into Neil’s hand. “We are good at that.”
“Yes, we are.” The light turns green and they’re finally able to move forward enough to turn off the busy main road and onto a lesser-traveled side road, which heads in the direction of Aaron’s house on the outskirts of the city. Even though the traffic’s letting up in this area, they still won’t be on time.
“We are going to be late,” Shaun reads his mind. “I will send a text.”
It’s another 20 minutes to Aaron’s, and now that the tense atmosphere of the car is gone, they pass the time with idle chit-chat about work and their weekend plans. It’s Friday evening and they both have the next three days off, so Shaun’s spending the weekend at Neil’s and they’re going to check out a few museums and a new restaurant that just opened. It’s gotten rave reviews from everyone they know, including Morgan and Park who went together on what they insisted ‘wasn’t a date!’ to anyone who would listen (and no one listened, because the least reliable source on the state of Morgan and Park’s relationship is Morgan and Park).
By the time they reach Aaron’s, Shaun is almost back to his normal self and most of his excitement about an evening with Aaron has returned. As usual, Neil finds his own mood following the same trajectory as Shaun’s. The rain’s currently holding off, but the storm clouds have changed from gray to dark purple, and they’re moving ever closer; Neil can only hope it’s not a forewarning of how their evening will go.
“Guess Aaron has a visitor,” Neil remarks, pulling in behind Aaron’s car so he doesn’t block the unfamiliar sedan in the driveway.
“That is Debbie’s car,” Shaun tells him, as they get out and gather their things. Neil had gotten a bottle of Aaron’s favorite wine—his alcohol intake is limited in the aftermath of his cancer recovery, but he’s allowed small amounts, so he makes them count and only drinks his absolute favorites nowadays. Shaun had insisted on bringing a plant, saying Aaron needed something to look after, despite the older man’s troublesome history of failing to keep plants alive. Shaun’s choice this time is a flowering cactus, and Neil’s of the mind it fits Aaron perfectly.
“Did we know Debbie was going to be here?” Neil asks, as they make their way up the winding path to Aaron’s front door. The sprawling home is way too large for Aaron, but he seems to enjoy it and often has company in one form or another, either relatives or friends. If Neil ever traded his apartment for an actual house, he’d consider something in a neighborhood similar to Aaron’s, but he doesn’t think he’d need a home quite this size. Though if he had a few children… He shakes off the thought for a future time and refocuses on Shaun.
Shaun’s glancing between Debbie’s car and the house. “He did not mention her to me.”
“Me, either.”
The front door is closed, which means no one has been watching for their arrival. They both have keys to Aaron’s place, but neither of them would use them on an occasion like this, so Shaun’s reaching for the doorbell when Neil grasps his arm to ask, “Do you think Debbie knows about us?”
“I don’t know.” Shaun drops his arm and lowers his voice as if someone might be on the other side of the front door, trying to spy on them. “Would Dr. Glassman have told her?”
Neill honestly has no idea. “It’s hard to say. On one hand, he’s not the type to betray a confidence, but on the other, he and Debbie have gotten more serious over the past few months. And you know how couples like to tell each other everything…”
“How should we act?” Shaun’s nervousness is seeping back in. “Should we ask her? What if she knows? Would she pretend she didn’t? Maybe we should ask Dr. Glassman. I can text him.” He shifts to balance the cactus in one arm, trying to retrieve his phone from his jacket pocket, but before he can, the door in front of them swings wide. Debbie’s on the other side, welcoming them with a beaming smile.
“You made it! I thought I heard you two out here.”
There’s no way she heard their lowered voices through the solid oak front door, not with how well built Aaron’s home is, but Neil doesn’t remark on that. He just smiles politely in return.
“It’s lovely to see you, Debbie,” Neil greets her, and while Shaun echoes him, his voice is a lot quieter.
“You both, as well.” She steps back, motioning for them to enter. “Come in quick, before it starts raining.” As one, the three of them turn to look up at the increasingly threatening sky. The sun isn’t fully down yet, but it might as well be for how much the clouds are blocking it. “Set your things down,” Debbie adds, as they follow her inside. “Aaron got a phone call a few minutes ago and went upstairs to take it, but he should be right back.”
Neil sets the wine on a small table in the foyer, and when his resident doesn’t move, Neil takes the cactus from him to put down, as well. Shaun’s hovering close to him, uncertain in the face of Debbie’s familiar greeting. It feels as if she’s welcoming them into her home, too, and Neil wonders just how close the older couple has become while he’s been wrapped up in his own (and Shaun’s) life.
“Please, take off your coats,” she urges, accepting Neil’s and hanging it in the hall closet. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
Shaun moves much slower than Neil to unbutton his coat, and he doesn’t relinquish it to Debbie, instead choosing to carefully hang it up himself. He returns to Neil’s side while Debbie’s asking about their day and the drive over.
“Traffic is terrible, isn’t it?” she’s mildly venting. “I swear it gets worse every week. There are too many people in the city. I love that Aaron lives a little ways outside of it, even if it sometimes takes ages to get here.” Neil can do little more than nod in agreement before she’s switching gears. “Enough about that, tonight is about you two! I wanted to congratulate you again. I know I said it at work, but we haven’t had the chance to talk alone.”
Debbie works in the coffee shop and café at their hospital, and it’s incredibly busy most of the time, so whenever they see her there’s little chance to have a conversation longer than a minute or two.
Shaun’s watching her carefully, taking in every word, probably trying to determine what (if anything) she might know about the true nature of their relationship.
“Thank you, we appreciate that,” Neil says, when it becomes apparent Shaun isn’t going to reply. It certainly seems like she doesn’t know about them…but then again, Aaron usually acts as if Neil and Shaun’s relationship is real whether there are witnesses around or not, so it’s possible Debbie knows everything and is choosing to do the same.
“You’ve heard it from everyone, I’m sure,” she addresses them both, “but we’ve all been waiting and we’re so happy for you! When Aaron told me, I couldn’t believe it, I was just so—” She breaks off with something like a squeal and another huge smile, apparently too excited to go on, and steps toward Shaun with her arms extended to hug him. Shaun tenses, bracing himself in the moment before Neil smoothly steps between them to accept the hug in his place.
Debbie’s surprised for a second until understanding dawns and she shakes her head at herself before hugging Neil. Her cheeks are tinged lightly pink when they separate, and Neil pats her shoulder to assure her it’s fine. Shaun rarely hugs people he doesn’t know well and he has to initiate it in order to be anything close to comfortable with it. If people aren’t aware of that or forget when Neil’s around, he lets them know in some way or another. Shaun never holds a grudge against anyone, so Neil tries not to, either. Besides, he isn’t surprised that people often want to hug Shaun. Neil knows that feeling all too well—he’s just the lucky one who gets to do it whenever he wants, unlike everyone else. (Neil finds immense satisfaction in that.)
“Again, we appreciate the congratulations,” Neil says, moving easily past any awkwardness as he steps back and slides an arm around Shaun’s waist to deter any further move toward him on Debbie’s part. It turns out to be unnecessary since she’s already backing away from them, and Shaun leans on Neil in a silent thank you. Neil presses back in an equally quiet you’re welcome.
“Sorry, I get too enthusiastic sometimes.” Debbie’s directing her apology at Shaun. “I’m always hugging people when I’m excited.”
“It’s okay,” Shaun says, easily forgiving in a way Neil wishes he could be. (Maybe he’ll get there someday with Shaun’s help.) “I do not like to hug people,” Shaun begins his standard explanation, so well-practiced that it’s essentially scripted. “Sometimes I will hug my friends, but—”
“No, please, you don’t have to explain yourself.” She brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, watching Neil and Shaun with a mixture of apology and fondness. “I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me here. There was a mix-up over which day Aaron and I were supposed to have dinner, and I brought all this food, so… I saw no point leaving it in the fridge while you ordered pizza, so I made lasagna which should be done soon, and then I’ll head out so you three can catch up. I’m going to go check on dinner, so please settle in while Aaron finishes his call.” Maybe she can tell they need a few minutes alone, because she’s out of the room before they can react.
Shaun moves a few steps away from Neil so he can see down the hall where she disappeared. “She is more comfortable here than I am,” he mutters, beginning to meticulously pull at his shirtsleeves which don’t need to be fixed.
“She’s probably here most nights,” Neil points out, taking a step closer to Shaun, though he refrains from reaching for him. “It’s a different type of relationship.”
“Dr. Glassman told me they had become closer.” Shaun’s not unhappy about that, per se, but he’s clearly thrown, and he gives one of his sleeves a particularly hard pull. “I did not realize how close he meant.”
Neil’s seen his resident off-balance like this before, but it’s usually during work events or high-stress situations. Seeing him this way at Aaron’s house is much less common, and this time it’s because of Debbie’s surprise appearance. It's one thing to hear how affectionately Aaron speaks of her, but another entirely to witness her familiarity in Aaron’s home (where she felt comfortable enough to go ahead and cook them dinner, no less).
“It’s a good thing for them, isn’t it?” Neil tries to remind Shaun of the bigger picture. “If they’re happy together?” Shaun nods without looking at him, frowning down at his shirt. “No one is ever going to take your place in Aaron’s life. I guarantee you that.”
“I know,” Shaun relents, finally letting go of his sleeves as he looks at Neil. “I do not resent her being here, or her relationship with Dr. Glassman. I want them to be happy. It’s just…new.”
“Change is difficult,” Neil agrees. “But without change, nothing can ever get better.”
Shaun doesn’t say anything for a long moment as that sinks in. “You are right.”
“I’m always right, Murphy.” Neil feels a lot better when Shaun smiles at his long-standing joke. “It was nice of Debbie to make dinner for us despite the mixed up plans, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Shaun admits, his smile fading when he adds, “She said she is leaving.”
“Is that what you want?” Neil keeps his voice down. “Our dinner plans were only with Aaron, but it feels wrong to send her home after she took the time to cook us a meal.”
“I did not expect her to be here, but…I do not want her to leave.” Shaun’s becoming more determined the more he talks it out. “It would be impolite if we did not invite her to stay.”
“I feel the same way, so let’s do that.”
Shaun’s nodding, having already made the same decision. “I do not like it when people try to separate us,” he explains to Neil, “so I do not want to do that to her and Dr. Glassman.”
Neil’s struck by the sweetness of Shaun so casually comparing them to a real couple (and not wanting to separate the other two, at that). “I think we can probably make a convincing case for her to stay,” Neil assures him. “And what’s your verdict on whether or not she knows? Do you think Aaron told her the truth about us?”
“I don’t know.” Shaun glances down the hall again, probably wary of Debbie returning and overhearing. “I cannot tell.”
“Yeah, I can’t, either.” A few minutes ago, Neil would have bet on her knowing, but after their brief chat, he’s not so sure. “She didn’t give any indication she knew. She didn’t make jokes or sly comments, and she didn’t ask pointed questions or try to hint around for more information.”
“I believe she is a good actress,” Shaun says. “She tells everyone the experimentally flavored muffins at the coffee shop are wonderful, but I have tried every variety and they are terrible.”
Neil grins at Shaun’s evidence, but he also begs to differ. “I like those kiwi banana ones.”
“Maybe she is not a good actress,” Shaun backtracks, “and she simply has the same terrible taste as you.”
Neil narrows his eyes. “I think as my fiancé,” he lingers on the word to make his point, “you should be the last person maligning my taste.”
“Jessica was your fiancée,” Shaun says, archly.
Neil’s trying really hard not to laugh. If nothing else had ever proven Shaun was his best friend, this alone would do it: throwing reality in his face in a way Neil can’t even get upset about (if he were inclined to get upset with Shaun in the first place, which he isn’t). “Are you saying I have terrible taste in fiancés?”
Shaun seems like he starts and stops speaking at least three times before he ventures, “Half the time?”
Neil crosses his arms, asking wryly, “Which half?”
Shaun can’t contain his laughter, exclaiming, “Not the current one!”
“That remains to be seen,” Neil warns.
“I do not dislike Jessica,” Shaun hastens to add, as if Neil didn’t already know that. “But she was not a good fiancée for you.”
It’s a fact Neil finds more true with every day that distances him from his engagement with her. “Tell me about it,” he sighs, with a shake of his head.
Shaun takes that as an open invitation. “You shared few of the same interests,” he begins. “You found Jessica’s family, and at times her, to be superficial. And she did not want children. There are more reasons, but those are the major ones.”
“Yes, they are.” He’d told Shaun all of them (and quite a few more besides). “My engagement with Jess… It was a failure on both our parts.” It’s like his memories don’t align with reality anymore. Had he been lying to himself the entire time? Trying to convince himself they shared enough love to sustain them, despite every warning sign they’d ignored?
“It was not a failure,” Shaun counters, snapping Neil out of his reminiscing.
Neil holds up his left hand. “I don’t see a wedding ring, do you?”
“You realized you were not a good match and ended things. Two people getting married who shouldn’t is the failure.” After a moment, Shaun softly adds, “I have seen that failure.”
“I know you have,” Neil murmurs, rolling his shoulders to try and work out some of the tension. “And you’re right.”
They’ve both seen plenty of marriages that never should have happened, and Shaun had lived through the wreckage of his own parents’ awful relationship, which was partly what made his childhood such a living hell. Neil knows he and Jess never would have reached those extremes, but he has no doubt they would have ended up divorced, probably after years of struggling to make a marriage work that never could have survived long-term.
Even more troubling, if he’d been engaged and/or married the whole time he knew Shaun, they certainly wouldn’t be in each other’s lives like they are now…or would they? Neil hopes they would have found their way to each other eventually, because he can only imagine how miserable he’d be right now without Shaun in his life. The younger man regularly opens his eyes to things he’d never considered before, and his assertion that Neil’s broken engagement wasn’t a ‘failure’…well, Neil has to admit he likes that interpretation a lot better. It only further cements his view that Shaun is the best person he’s ever met, always finding the most optimistic outlook for any situation, no matter what it might be.
A quick glance around reveals that Debbie and Aaron are still nowhere in sight, so it’s the perfect time to agree on a plan for the evening. “If Debbie really doesn’t know about us, we should try to keep it that way,” Neil suggests. “She might let it slip by accident, and you know how secrets spread: everyone tells one person, and before we know it, Morgan finds out and tells the entire hospital.”
“Morgan is not the only one who cannot keep a secret.”
“She’s not, but I like using her as an example whenever I can.” He grins when Shaun shakes his head with a half-smile. “So we’re on the same page? Avoid doing anything to make Debbie suspicious?”
“Yes,” Shaun agrees, returning to his side. “We should continue acting like we normally do.”
“How difficult for us.” His words are laced with humor as he presses his shoulder into Shaun’s, demonstrating how close they are even though no one’s in the foyer to witness it.
“If she does not know,” Shaun begins, thoughtfully, “that means Dr. Glassman cannot lecture us about our arrangement—”
“—because it would give everything away,” Neil finishes. “I think Aaron might be in for a frustrating evening, Shaun.”
Shaun’s expression turns severe. “I do not care as long as he leaves you alone.”
Neil appreciates the protectiveness, but wishes his resident wouldn’t get so upset on his behalf. “I might not mind him breaking into one of his rants,” Neil shrugs, trying to lighten the mood. “Not if it meant I could hear your defense of me.”
“I will still say it even if he is not upset,” Shaun promises, in earnest.
“You’re wonderful, you know that?” He grips the younger man’s shoulder in thanks. “I’ll do my best to provoke Aaron, which will give you plenty of opportunities to remind him how amazing I am.”
“Neil,” Shaun tries to warn, even as he’s failing to suppress a smile. (Shaun’s well aware that his amusement only serves to encourage Neil.)
“What?” Neil manages to keep a straight face. “I’m helping you.”
“Your ‘help’ requires me to do twice as much work,” Shaun complains, and Neil finally gives in to his laughter.
“Neil’s causing you twice as much work?” Aaron’s voice comes from behind them, surprising them into turning around. He’s standing on the last step of the staircase, comfortably resting against the railing as if he’s been there for some time. “Hold on, I’m having nightmare flashbacks to when he was my resident.”
Neil has no idea how much of their conversation Aaron overheard and he’s not about to ask. “How are you so quiet?” he demands. “You and Shaun both.” He’s about to give Shaun some space and step away from him, but the younger man links their arms to keep Neil at his side in a move they both know well. Neil searches his face, making sure he’s okay, then slides his hand down to take Shaun’s. He’s never been able to leave when Shaun wants him to stay; it’s how they ended up here in the first place.
Aaron watches their silent exchange, not speaking until it’s over. “How quickly you deflect, Neil, when I call you out for being my most difficult resident.”
It galls Neil that Aaron has consistently made that claim for the past 15 years when Marcus had been a resident right alongside him. Marcus Andrews. And yet Neil somehow holds the title for most difficult? Then again, Marcus had spent a lot of his residency trying to ingratiate himself with the senior doctors and administration, a game Neil never cared to play except when he absolutely had to, so in that sense he could understand how speaking his mind and holding everyone accountable no matter their position might have been perceived as ‘difficult’.
“Aaron, I’d appreciate if you'd stop with the lies,” Neil tells his former attending. “We both know I was your top resident and I made your life a lot easier.”
Aaron raises his eyebrows. “That’s the alternate reality we’re going with?” His smile for Shaun is commiserating. “Neil was impossible. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”
“He could never convince me otherwise.” Shaun’s serious enough that Neil frowns at him, and it causes Aaron to snicker in victory. Neil glares at them both for ganging up on him—not an unusual occurrence when it comes to Aaron and Shaun, who both have this annoying tendency to agree on the truth—and Shaun responds by squeezing his hand.
“Aaron never liked being told when he was wrong,” Neil explains for Shaun’s benefit. “It drove him insane. Hence his memories of me being ‘impossible’.”
“I’m the one who didn’t like being told when he was wrong? Talk about false memories,” Aaron scoffs. “You have no idea how blessed you are with your current group of residents. They’re a dream compared to when I had to teach the likes of you, Audrey, and Marcus.”
Neil shudders at the thought of having Marcus and Audrey as his residents, along with an even more obstinate version of his younger self. Come to think of it, how had Aaron not quit during those years? “You make a compelling case,” Neil admits. “I might even be feeling sorry for you.”
“And look who you get.” Aaron waves toward Shaun, who hasn’t let go of Neil’s hand. “A literal genius who makes your life easier at every turn.”
Aaron has no idea the truth of it. “He sure does,” Neil nudges Shaun in the side, which makes the younger man laugh, “but I try to return the favor in kind.”
Aaron’s gaze lingers on Shaun and his laughter. “You do, don’t you?”
“You’re only noticing this now?” Neil’s question is light enough it could be taken as a joke, but the challenge behind it is obvious.
“No,” Aaron says, slowly, “I’m not.” He glances at the hall leading to the kitchen. “Have you seen Debbie yet?”
“She let us in,” Shaun tells him. “She explained that she thought you two were having dinner.”
“Yeah, I thought I’d rescheduled tonight, but turns out I was thinking of another night I had to reschedule.” He grimaces at that. “I have to reschedule a lot.”
“How’s retirement looking?” Neil jokes. “You’d have endless free nights.”
“And be bored out of my mind? No thanks, I’m not ready yet. Maybe in another year or two.” (Aaron has been using that same line since the day Neil met him, so he’s starting to think the older man has no plans to ever retire.)
“It sounds like you didn’t invite her to join us?” Neil half-questions. “She made sure to tell us she would be leaving soon.”
“Actually, I tried to convince her to stay, but she wouldn’t hear of it.” Aaron’s disappointment is obvious. “She feels bad about the mix-up, even though I keep reminding her it was my fault. I think she’s worried you’ll feel she’s trying to…crash our evening, or something.”
“We wouldn’t think that,” Neil says, “especially not when you let the poor woman come all the way here thinking she’d be having dinner with you tonight. And then you let her cook for us!”
“You try stopping her when she has her mind set on something,” Aaron sighs, then turns to Shaun. “She told me she didn’t want to intrude because she knows how much we value our time together.”
“We would like her to stay.” Shaun’s more adamant now that he can see how much Aaron wants her there. “You two are in a serious relationship. She thought you had dinner plans and she is the one who cooked tonight. It’s only fair for her to stay.”
“I think she’ll need to hear it from both of you,” Aaron admits. “Probably more from you, Shaun.”
“I will ask her,” Shaun promises, causing Aaron to smile at him gratefully.
“Does Debbie know about us?” Neil asks, realizing that if they linger for much longer she’ll probably come searching for them.
“That you’re happily engaged?” Aaron’s smile is nothing but cheerful. “Everyone knows that.”
“Aaron,” Neil grits out.
“Couples tell each other everything,” Shaun supplies.
Aaron gives an exaggerated show of surprise. “Do they?”
“Aaron,” Neil repeats, more forcefully, and sees the moment Aaron relents.
“I’ve never outright lied to Deb about you, but I’ve been able to…talk around the circumstances of how this began.” Aaron rolls his eyes at the ceiling. “It’s not my story to share. Besides, what would be the point of telling her? Or anyone, for that matter? After all, you want everyone to believe this is real…?” His voices rises at the end, though it’s not fully a question. “So I guess you’ll have to be ‘on’ for the evening. Keep pretending you’re happily engaged, or else she might figure out you’re not really in love.” He tips his head forward, eyeing them over the top of his glasses. “We wouldn’t want that.”
“No,” Shaun tells him seriously.
Neil shakes his head to show he agrees with Shaun. “We wouldn’t.”
Aaron stares at them without blinking for 15 straight seconds before spinning on his heel and disappearing down the hall without another word.
“Here I foolishly thought having Debbie here would make him easier to deal with.” Neil really should have known better. “He’s going to make those kinds of comments all night, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Shaun says, then reminds him, “I will defend you.”
“I have no doubt.” Neil doesn’t like the growing worry in his resident. “We could still cancel.”
That jars Shaun from his thoughts, and he tugs sharply on Neil’s hand in censure. “We are already here,” he says, in case Neil hadn’t noticed. “It is not canceling after you arrive somewhere. That is called leaving.”
“I’ll do that, too,” Neil offers, raising their joined hands. “Whatever you want.”
Shaun’s exasperation with him vanishes at the reminder of why Neil offered in the first place. “I want to stay.”
“I know you do.” Neil takes a step towards the hall, waiting for Shaun to start walking with him. “I do, too.”
When they enter the kitchen—huge and gorgeous and ‘illogically organized’ according to Shaun’s standards—they come to a halt at the sight of Debbie and Aaron speaking in hushed tones near the fridge. They’re too far away to overhear, but the agitated nature of their conversation is obvious. When they spot Neil and Shaun watching them from the entryway, Debbie starts guiltily and Aaron’s face smoothes over into a pleasant, unreadable mask.
“About time, I was wondering what was taking you so long,” Debbie says cheerfully, with a last annoyed glance at Aaron before she moves over to one of the ovens (Aaron has four) and opens it to peer inside. Neil can’t see from his vantage point, but based upon the delicious aroma emanating from the kitchen, he figures that she’s checking on her lasagna.
“We were speaking with Dr. Glassman,” Shaun explains, as Debbie looks at him over her shoulder.
“Were you,” she says flatly.
Shaun takes it as a question, anyways. “Yes.”
“What was he saying?” Her sharp gaze lands on Aaron as if she’s about to catch him doing something of which she wouldn’t approve. The older man remains unaffected, leisurely sipping his drink like he isn’t under her intense scrutiny.
“He said that Neil was an impossible resident,” Shaun answers, causing Aaron to start laughing while Neil heaves a sigh. “He has mentioned that before and it does not surprise me.”
“That’s the topic you go with?” Neil chides, as Shaun sends him a distracting smile and nimbly slips from his grasp so he can join Debbie by the oven. “How convenient that you put some distance between us, Murphy. What happened to defending me?”
“I defend you when the accusations are unwarranted.”
“They’re always unwarranted!”
“He has not changed in 15 years,” Shaun tells Debbie, speaking with such certainty that one might think he knew Neil during his residency.
Aaron’s grin for Neil is sharp, but it doesn’t sting the way it once would have. “No, Shaun, he hasn’t.”
“Oh, and you have?” Neil demands.
“I’ve mellowed with age,” Aaron insists, and it’s Neil’s turn to laugh.
“Sure you have, Aaron.” Neil leans against the oversized kitchen island. “More like you delegate the things you don’t like to your underlings in order to keep up your easygoing façade.”
“Perks of being the president,” Aaron says smugly, unashamed.
“15 years ago, he used to say the exact same thing,” Neil informs Shaun and Debbie. “Whenever we complained about something, he’d remind us he had the final say and it was the ‘perk of being our attending’.” On second thought, maybe Neil shouldn’t have revealed that when —
“You say that,” Shaun points out.
“Murphy!” Neil whines at the betrayal. “Well…” At the risk of hypocrisy. “…it is.”
“The one perk,” Aaron tries to claim.
Neil smiles warmly at Shaun. “I can think of a few more.”
“Oh my God,” Aaron mutters into his drink.
“We are Neil’s favorite group of residents,” Shaun tells Debbie, deciding she needs an explanation.
“Oh really?” Neil leans forward, resting his arms on the island. “Says who?”
“I say it,” Shaun laughs, delighted by their game.
“Well then I guess it must be true,” Neil hums, with a wink.
“Oh my God,” Aaron repeats.
“Ignore him,” Debbie says briskly, with a disapproving frown for Aaron that quickly morphs back into a smile when she turns to Shaun. “Apparently he’s forgotten how to be polite.”
“I don’t know how everything gets turned back around on me,” Aaron grouses, quickly sidestepping when Debbie snaps a towel at him as she walks by.
“Welcome to my life,” Neil tells him, wondering if Aaron might have sympathy for him now. (Probably not.) “I think we’re forgetting the other, more important thing we talked about in the foyer.”
“We are,” Shaun agrees, turning to Debbie. “Dr. Glassman told us he could not convince you to stay for dinner, but we would like you to join us.”
Debbie rounds on Aaron, and Neil realizes what they must have been arguing about when he and Shaun walked into the kitchen: Aaron trying to get her to stay while she kept refusing.
“Aaron.” It sounds like she wants to get angry but can’t muster the energy. “I knew you were going to do this. You guilted them into asking me to stay.”
“I didn’t,” he insists, pulling some garlic bread out of the freezer. “I explained the situation and that I’d prefer if you stayed, and they agreed.”
“We wouldn’t feel right letting you leave.” Neil slides onto one of the bar stools at the island. “Especially after you made us dinner, which was lovely of you, by the way.”
“It was no problem,” she sends Aaron a dark look, “considering my night was suddenly free.”
“It’s not your fault Aaron has issues coordinating his schedule,” Neil points out, as Aaron grumbles something unintelligible in the background while he arranges the bread on a baking pan. “So please stay.”
She seems uncertain now. “I didn’t make lasagna to try and finagle an invitation to join your dinner, I just thought it’d be nice since I was here anyways with all the food, and Aaron mentioned that your only plans were to order pizza.”
Shaun’s filling two glasses of water from the fridge dispenser. “You believe Dr. Glassman guilted us, but he did not. Even if he tried, I would not have asked you out of guilt. I asked because I want you to stay.” He comes back over to the island, handing Neil one of the drinks. “Neil and I talked about it before Dr. Glassman came downstairs, and we were already in agreement that we wanted you to join us.”
Debbie softens considerably at that, her hesitation replaced by a sincere smile at Shaun’s explanation. Everyone in the room is aware that Shaun doesn’t like last minute changes to confirmed plans, especially plans that have to do with his personal life outside the hospital. Shaun’s gotten much better at adapting to new situations, but he still dislikes it the vast majority of the time. Neil credits their relationship for giving Shaun plenty of practice dealing with the unexpected, but he doesn’t discount how much his own presence is helping, too. If tonight’s plans had been for Aaron and Shaun alone, without Neil, the younger man wouldn’t be reacting to Debbie’s unexpected visit nearly this well.
“To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to going back out in this weather,” she admits, glancing out one of the kitchen windows where they’re currently in the midst of a downpour. “If everyone’s fine with it, then okay, you three win. I’ll have dinner with you.”
“Finally you agree!” Aaron puts the garlic bread in another oven before making his way over to her side, sliding an arm around her shoulders to pull her against him. “I was wondering how long it’d take to convince you. Staying is the least you can do after you cooked for us.” He kisses her cheek and she smiles up at him. “It was very sweet of you to do this.”
“It was,” Neil chimes in, as Shaun nods in agreement, “and we appreciate it. I’m sure your lasagna will be a million times better than ordering pizza.”
Shaun’s surveying the kitchen for any forgotten task that might need finishing. “Can I help with anything?”
“Thank you for the offer, but everything’s close to done.” Debbie’s not looking at Shaun, so she completely misses his disappointment. “Why don’t you take a seat and relax? The lasagna should be ready shortly, but it will have to cool. I think I’ve timed it right so it will be ready to eat when the garlic bread’s done.”
“Know who makes an excellent lasagna?” Neil raises his drink towards Shaun, who’s now aimlessly wandering the kitchen, as if a task might jump out at him if he searches long enough. “My favorite resident.”
Shaun spins to face Neil across the kitchen, practically beaming at him. “Yes, I do.” He’s nodding in confirmation of his own skills. “I make it often because Neil enjoys it.”
“Sounds like I have some competition,” Debbie teases, as she pulls her lasagna out of the oven and places it on a rack to cool. “Aaron, did you set a timer for the bread?” She turns around and almost runs right into Shaun, who’s been hovering behind her.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” he asks, hopefully.
“I promise, we’re all set.” She points at the empty seats along the island next to Neil, trying once again to convince Shaun to take a break. “Why don’t you rest for a few minutes before dinner? I know you only left work a couple hours ago.”
“I do not need to rest,” Shaun protests, but there’s a distinct edge to his voice telling Neil the opposite.
“Murphy, come keep me company.” He beckons his resident closer. “It’s lonely over here.”
“You are not lonely.” Shaun isn’t buying it for a second, but he still makes his way over to Neil. “You are trying to get me to relax,” he accuses, “like Debbie.”
“What’s so wrong with that?” Neil lightly challenges, and though Shaun doesn’t reply, his stance softens in a sign he’s wavering. Neil hooks his foot on the bottom of the bar stool next to him so he can pull it closer to his own, and tries again. “Please sit with me.”
Shaun finally relents, taking the proffered seat, and they both turn to face the island. Debbie is at one end of the kitchen, pulling a salad out of the fridge, and Aaron is at the other, checking the garlic bread and directing Debbie on which dressings to take out with the salad.
“See?” she casually asks Shaun, setting everything on the counter. “Isn’t it nice to take a break?”
“No,” he says darkly, folding his arms and resting them on the granite countertop in front of him. “It’s unproductive.”
Neil tsks in sympathy, hating that Shaun’s unhappy, even if it’s for his own good. “You’re tired,” he points out. He’d pulled Shaun’s seat close enough that he can set an arm around his shoulders with ease. “Don’t try to pretend like you’re not.”
“I can still help if I’m tired,” Shaun protests, and doesn’t that just sum up everything Neil knows about Shaun Murphy?
“You can, but you don’t have to, and we don’t want you to. You need to take breaks like everyone else.” Shaun knows what will happen if he doesn’t, and it’s even worse if he’s already stressed due to circumstances he can’t control—like their long shift at work, unexpected changes to their dinner plans, and the varying, unpredictable intensities of the storms passing through.
“Okay.” Shaun’s sigh is prolonged, but he lets himself tip the short distance into Neil’s side. “I will sit here and not help.”
“Wow.” Debbie’s shaking her head in amazement. “And here I sometimes thought it was hard to get Aaron to stop working.”
“Relaxing is Shaun Murphy’s favorite thing in the world,” Neil tells her, purposely cheerful, as Shaun huffs in annoyance.
“It is not my favorite thing,” he sulks to anyone who’s listening, but there’s a smile growing on his face at the teasing.
“I gathered that by how tortured you look,” Debbie laughs.
“We’re working on it.” Neil taps Shaun’s shoulder in illustration. “He does better when I hold him in place.”
“He does not really hold me in place,” Shaun says quickly, as if he’s worried Debbie will believe Neil makes a habit of restraining him. “I could escape if I wanted to.”
“It doesn’t look like you want to,” she suggests, overly serious.
“No.” Shaun’s pained at having to admit it. “Relaxing is not terrible.”
Debbie smiles at them, knowingly. “It helps to have the right incentive.”
“It does.” Despite his agreement, Shaun’s clearly annoyed that he has nothing to do. “I’d still rather be helping with dinner.”
“Can you believe him?” Neil pinches Shaun’s shoulder for that one, making his resident laugh and try to twist away, but he doesn’t get very far with Neil’s arm around him. “He would happily abandon me if he were assigned some task.”
“I like tasks,” Shaun confirms to Debbie, as he continues scanning the kitchen for anything not done to his satisfaction.
Neil’s aware that Shaun’s going to get progressively more unhappy if he doesn’t find anything that allows him to be helpful, and eventually he’ll get restless enough to go find something on his own, so Neil might as well help him out. “Hey Murphy, didn’t we bring something for Aaron?”
Shaun’s eyes widen at the reminder. “Dr. Glassman distracted us and made us forget to give him his gifts.” He hops off the bar stool, heading for the foyer. “I will get them.”
“I’m the one who distracted you and caused you to forget?” Aaron calls after him.
“Yes!” Shaun shouts from the other room.
“I beg to differ,” Aaron says indignantly, once Shaun returns in record time with the cactus in one hand and the wine in the other.
Neil sets his elbow on the counter so he can prop his head in his hand. “He has quite the way with explanations, doesn’t he?”
“My explanations are what happened,” Shaun insists, holding up both gifts for Aaron to see, which forestalls any further argument. “These are for you.”
“You don’t have to bring something every time you come over,” Aaron reminds them (they’ve had this argument several times before), but he’s clearly appreciative, as usual.
“We want to, Aaron.” Neil takes the wine from Shaun, sliding it further down the counter so Aaron can examine it. “Bringing you something is the least we can do when you’re hosting dinner.” He glances at Debbie apologetically. “Though we should have brought something for you, considering you’re the one who cooked.”
Shaun retakes his seat next to Neil, setting the cactus in front of him. “If we had known you would be here, we would have,” he tells Debbie, as she blinks at him in surprise. “Dr. Glassman, you should give Debbie that wine.”
“What? No!” Aaron clutches it to his chest. “She can choose a bottle from my stock in the cellar if she wants, but I’m keeping this one for myself.”
“Glad to know where your priorities lie.” Debbie throws a potholder at him and he gasps when it bounces off the wine bottle.
“Deb, I could have dropped it!”
“The wine is from Neil,” Shaun says, right over their bickering. He’s turning the blue ceramic pot of the cactus back and forth. “He will say it’s from both of us, but he paid for it. It was expensive.”
“It’s very expensive,” Aaron confirms, with a speculative glance at Neil. “And it’s my favorite.”
“Is it?” Neil feigns surprise. “What luck!”
“It’s not luck,” Shaun outs him. “We know your favorite vintage. I told Neil you would not want him to spend that much, but he said you deserve the best.” Shaun says the last with a bright smile for Neil, because he also happens to believe Aaron deserves the best.
“Trying to buy my favor, Neil?” Aaron arches a brow, and Neil might suspect him of playing up the future father-in-law role for Debbie’s sake, if not for the fact that it’s the kind of thing Aaron says even when they’re alone.
“As your favorite former resident,” Neil tries to sound innocent, “why would I need to buy your favor? Besides, the wine’s from both of us, not just me.”
“I told you he would say that.” Shaun carefully pushes the cactus across the island to Aaron. “This is for you, as well.”
“Shaun picked it out,” Neil supplies.
“It’s…” Aaron’s smiling a little as he twists the pot around, charmed by the gift. “…a cactus.”
Debbie moves closer to get a better look at it, tucking herself back into Aaron’s side. “I think it suits you perfectly,” she decides, voicing Neil’s own inner thoughts. “All sharp and prickly on the outside, but this type will flower if it’s properly cared for.”
“You did not just call me a flowering cactus,” Aaron mutters, but his smile hasn’t gone away.
“I most certainly did.” She wraps an arm around his waist to give him a quick hug. “I really like it.”
“Me, too.” Aaron pulls it closer to himself. “Are you sure it’s the best idea, Shaun? Like Deb said, it has to be taken care of correctly to bloom, and you know I’m not great with plants.” It’s to the point that Aaron currently has none in his house, because as he puts it, they ‘keep mysteriously dying on him’.
“You are terrible with plants,” Shaun easily agrees. “Which is why I’m going to keep it alive.”
“Shaun’s great at that,” Neil vouches, having seen it in action for the entire time he’s known him. “It needs watering twice a month, which you would never know from the directions Shaun included.”
Aaron squints, leaning closer to read Shaun’s carefully printed handwriting on the tag he’d stuck into the soil: “Do not move, water, or attempt to care for this plant in any way.”
“That applies to everyone,” Shaun informs Aaron, tone brooking no argument. “You, Debbie, your cleaning service, and all other visitors to your home. Except me.”
“So…you’re the only one allowed to touch it,” Aaron summarizes.
“Yes. I will find a spot for it and you are to leave it there,” Shaun instructs. “You cannot kill it if you are nowhere near it.” He pauses, hearing his own words. “…I do not think.”
Aaron furrows his brow, taking issue with some part of that, but Neil beats him to speaking. “Don’t argue, Aaron.” That makes Aaron look like he wants to argue more, so Neil points at him. “Don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to argue,” he tries to insist. “I was only going to tell you, Shaun, that you don’t have to give me a gift that makes more work for yourself, unless…" Understanding is slowly but surely lighting Aaron’s face. “You want to come over that often?”
“Would that be okay?” Shaun’s not quite looking at Aaron.
“Would it be okay?” Aaron repeats with dismay, which gets Shaun to snap his eyes back to him. “It’s more than okay, Shaun. I would absolutely love it if you wanted to come over more often. You could have told me, you didn’t need a reason.” His voice drops, full of real concern. “I hope I don’t make you feel like you need a reason.”
“No.” Shaun shrugs, tracing the edge of the countertop with his finger. “I know you are busy. It’s hard to find time to see each other. This is…extra incentive.”
“So we have to get together or my plant dies?” Aaron laughs and Shaun starts to smile. “That’s some unique—and threatening?—incentive, Shaun. But as much as I appreciate your gift, and want to keep it alive, I don’t need extra incentive to see you. I’ve told you that you are welcome here anytime. You don’t even need to schedule it first. You can just show up.”
“I know,” Shaun acknowledges, “but I would rather plan ahead.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Aaron says fondly. “We’ll schedule it, then.” When Shaun only nods, Aaron looks at Neil. “This is both of you, I take it?”
Shaun hastily turns in his seat to face Neil, no doubt realizing he’d never officially asked about this. Before he can start apologizing, or tell Neil he doesn’t have to join them if he has other things to do, Neil sets a hand on his shoulder. “If you and Aaron want a night by yourselves, just let me know.” He glances at Aaron. “Otherwise, yes I’ll be joining you.”
“You are as busy as Dr. Glassman,” Shaun begins, getting right back to the excuses Neil had tried to stave off, “so if your schedule does not allow—”
“Stop right there. I’m never too busy for you.” It hurts that Shaun’s been so used to it in his life that he naturally expects it. “You don’t have to ask, either—we’re engaged, remember? That means a permanent date to everything, Murphy.”
Aaron’s laughter is significantly over the top, in Neil’s opinion. “As if you two didn’t do everything together before you were engaged!”
“Not everything,” Shaun tries to argue, “just…almost everything.”
“Well, you can add our twice-monthly dinners to the list,” Aaron declares, and Shaun lets himself relax upon seeing his enthusiasm. “It might be tricky, but I’m sure we can make it work like we did tonight.”
“You are welcome to join us whenever you want,” Shaun offers to Debbie, surprising her, and she starts shaking her head.
“Shaun, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he cuts off her protests. “We are both part of Dr. Glassman’s life—”
“Very important parts,” Aaron interjects, as he rummages around in various drawers, searching for a wine opener.
“—so we should spend time together,” Shaun finishes.
“Right… Yes… I agree with you.” It seems like she’s struggling to find the right words. “I want that, too, but I wasn’t sure if…you felt the same. I didn’t know how to ask. Plus, I know you and Aaron need time alone. I’m not trying to take anything away from you.”
“You aren’t,” Shaun assures her. “Speaking with you has been pleasant so far tonight.”
Debbie laughs lightly at his assessment, still somewhat flustered from his offer. “Then yes, to answer your question, I’ll happily join you.”
Aaron has gotten his wine open, pouring it into a glass. “Beware, Deb,” he gestures casually at Neil, “joining us also means you get stuck with Melendez a lot of the time.”
“You’re welcome in advance,” Neil tells her, complete with his most charming smile. “I’m a delight.”
So is his resident, who immediately backs him up. “He is excellent company,” Shaun promises Debbie. “You will not be disappointed.”
Aaron snickers behind his glass of wine and Debbie’s trying not to break into a smile at Shaun’s glowing review of Neil. “I had no doubt,” she says, “but thank you for the guarantee.” She turns to Neil, her hands on her hips. “Your fiancé is very sweet, did you know that?”
“He tells me all the time,” Shaun reveals, before Neil can say anything, and Debbie presses her hand over her heart in a very cute cliché.
“As he should,” she says firmly. “You know, I’ve been dying to hear more about your engagement for weeks, but never found a good time to ask.”
Neil and Shaun exchange a glance. This is the first time she’s asked for more details and it’s a reminder that they still aren’t certain how much she might know about them. Aaron said he didn’t tell her, but he’s as crafty as they are, and his claim wouldn’t be a lie in any number of scenarios, including if she guessed or figured it out on her own.
When neither of them immediately answers, Aaron smirks at them. “Rethinking her invitation yet?” His smug amusement quickly turns to indignation when Debbie steals his glass so she can try the wine herself. “Thief! Give that back!”
She purposely takes a slow sip, savoring it while he makes a fuss, but rolls her eyes and hands it back to quiet his complaints. “I know I congratulated you at work,” she’s glancing between Neil and Shaun, “but I only heard the basics of the story. Aaron said you’re much better at explaining it than he is.” Of course he did. Aaron’s watching innocently while he enjoys his wine, as if this is a totally normal conversation about a totally normal engagement. “So,” she prods, when no one speaks up, “what happened?”
“While we were in Las Vegas…” Shaun begins, glancing at Neil in a bid for him to finish.
“The information that we were engaged was somehow published in a brochure for the conference.” Neil doesn’t add that there hadn’t been any engagement, real or fake or otherwise, and that he and Shaun had only gone along with it because it seemed like the easiest path to take. “That’s how everyone found out about it.”
“I knew that much,” Debbie reveals. “Morgan showed me the brochure when you got back.”
Neil would have been more surprised if she hadn’t. “The problem,” he explains, because there’s no harm in Debbie knowing, “is that we never told anyone we were engaged.” It was never part of their cover, nor had they planned it to be, but the universe (or at least one person in it) had other plans for them.
Debbie now seems as confused as they’d been over the whole thing. “Then how did it get into the brochure?”
“We tried to find out,” Shaun explains. “I contacted the woman who wrote it and she told me she heard about our engagement from someone at St. Bonaventure when she called to verify details about us.” Shaun’s scowling at the reminder of his failure to find an answer. “They did not give her their name and she did not bother to ask.”
“Convenient, right?” Too convenient, if you ask Neil. “She told Shaun she trusted that someone from our hospital would be giving her accurate information.”
“Didn’t they?” Aaron breaks in. “I mean…you are engaged.” The only tell that he’s amused at their expense is the slight crinkling of the lines around his eyes. “Sounds like the information was accurate to me.”
The major upside of Debbie’s presence is that Aaron won’t directly call them out, but the equal downside is that Neil can’t do the same to Aaron. The older man knows damn well the information wasn’t accurate, but Neil can’t say as much. “Right, but that’s not the point,” his voice is hard, a subtle warning to Aaron. “We want to know how they found out.”
Aaron must have gotten over his possessiveness of the wine since he holds the bottle up to everyone in offer, but they all wave him off, leaving it to him. “It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that someone correctly guessed you were engaged,” he says loftily, which is the same suggestion Morgan had made—as if anyone could ‘correctly guess’ something which wasn’t true in the first place.
“So if I’m understanding correctly,” Debbie’s still trying to work it out, “a mysterious, unknown person happened to get on the phone and tell this woman you were engaged, even though they couldn’t possibly have known?”
“Exactly.” Neil feels his agitation with the whole situation returning, so he winds his arm around Shaun’s waist to help ease it. “She also informed them that she was going to include the information in the brochure, and they encouraged her to do so.”
Shaun’s not happy to rehash all this, either, but his frustration is lessening as Neil taps his fingers along his side. “We have no idea why someone would share information we did not tell them, and which they could not prove was true.”
It might have been understandable if Neil and Shaun were in a real relationship and hiding a secret engagement—then they’d shrug it off as someone finding out about them and accidentally letting it slip. But since there hadn’t been any engagement, they’re left with two equally unappealing options: either the person had been mistakenly repeating false rumors, or they’d outright fabricated it on their own. Neil thinks the latter is much more likely, because if there had been rumors of an engagement before their Las Vegas trip, their friends likely would have heard about it and let them know. (Reznick would have been downright unbearable if she’d learned of a rumor like that.)
Neil’s theory, which Shaun is reluctant to believe, is that someone had crafted the story on purpose and with specific intent. Neil’s repeatedly mulled over who it might be in the weeks since they returned from Las Vegas, and his prime suspect happens to be standing across the kitchen from them, happily enjoying his favorite wine. Shaun is adamant that Aaron wouldn’t have done such a thing, but Neil’s known him a lot longer. If Aaron truly thought he was ‘helping’ them in some way—such as getting them to take a practical step back from their pretend relationship after realizing how far they’d let it go—Neil could see him doing it. (And if so, it explained Aaron’s completely floored reaction when Shaun first told him what happened in Las Vegas, and that instead of correcting the false information, they’d chosen to go along with it.)
“The whole thing’s very odd.” Aaron swirls his wine a few times. “Maybe you’ll never know.” To Neil’s annoyance, he can’t pinpoint anything that definitely gives Aaron away (which is probably more evidence that he’s the culprit).
“Why would anyone do that?” Debbie wonders. “What would they stand to gain?”
Aaron hums inquisitively. “What, indeed…”
Neil knows Aaron does this kind of thing on purpose. “Sounds like you have a theory, Aaron.”
“It’s easy to have theories, Neil.” His tone is maddeningly calm. “It’s a lot harder to prove them.”
“The truth has a way of making itself known,” Neil warns, though he instantly regrets it when Aaron’s eyes flash in triumph.
“Does it?” He tips his glass at Neil. “What truth would that be? There are so many to choose from.”
Neil’s arm is still around Shaun, so he feels it when Aaron’s comment makes Shaun tense considerably. Neil can tell this is just Aaron being Aaron, having his usual fun at Neil’s expense, but Shaun often misses the nuances of Aaron’s words and behavior—especially when he’s joking—no matter how many times Neil reminds Aaron to make himself more clear. (Aaron’s failure to do so is at the heart of most misunderstandings between the two.)
Neil’s annoyed now, and it’s not due to Aaron’s remark, but rather the way it affected Shaun. “Aaron,” he says sharply, hoping the older man will get the hint without Neil having to directly spell it out for him (though half the time he still has to).
Thankfully, Aaron gets it quickly this time around, smiling broadly in an attempt to play the whole thing off. “What?” he shrugs. “All I meant is I want to help you get to the bottom of this. I’ll ask around and report back what I find.”
“Great,” Neil tries to sound cheerful, though he’s probably failing. He doesn’t trust that anything Aaron ‘reports back’ will be remotely near the truth. “We look forward to it.”
“It’s a strange mystery, for sure,” Debbie concludes, “and I hope you figure out what happened.”
A deafeningly loud thunderclap punctuates her statement, so close that the lightning and thunder are on top of each other, and Neil would have laughed it off as cheesy (and improbable) comedic timing if he saw it in a movie, but having it happen in real life feels somewhat ominous. Shaun and Debbie both jump at the unexpected crash, and while Neil’s reaction isn’t as extreme, his heart rate has probably doubled in seconds. Aaron, meanwhile, shows no reaction whatsoever (which Neil finds strangely unnerving).
“My God.” Debbie clutches her hands to her chest. “I don’t mind thunderstorms, but I’d prefer if they didn’t scare me to death.”
Neil’s only half-listening to her, too focused on Shaun, who’d frozen after being startled. “Are you alright?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” His eyes are shut, which doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’ to Neil.
“I know you don’t like storms.”
“I hate thunderstorms,” Shaun corrects him, rubbing a hand over his eyes before he opens them to look at Neil. “But I will be okay.”
“Yes, you will,” Neil promises. He’s going to make sure of it, and that starts by staying closer to Shaun than he normally would (which might be difficult, considering he’s usually pretty close to Shaun by default).
“The weather’s getting worse,” Aaron unnecessarily remarks, as Neil bites his tongue so he won’t sarcastically thank him for stating the obvious. Bickering with Aaron right now will only upset Shaun more.
“I think I heard something about possible tornado watches tonight?” Debbie takes out her phone to check her weather app, causing Shaun to sit up straighter in alarm.
“The forecast I read was not that bad,” Shaun sounds worried enough that Neil pulls him into a sideways hug.
“They just updated it.” She waves her phone at them. “The watch is in effect until midnight. There’s a bad line of thunderstorms moving through over the next several hours with the potential to form funnel clouds. Guess the pouring rain has only been a preview.”
“If I’d known it was going to be this bad, I would have rescheduled our dinner.” Aaron’s watching Shaun with a worried frown. “I don’t want you going home in this, Shaun.”
Neil tosses his free hand up in the air in a ‘What about me?’ gesture, but Aaron doesn’t so much as flinch. “You don’t want Shaun out in this, but you’d be fine if I got swept away by a tornado on my way home?”
“What is this, Neil, The Wizard of Oz?” The glint in Aaron’s eyes gives away his amusement. “I’m sure you’d be fine.”
“This is not funny,” Shaun says sharply, pulling away from Neil so he can turn to face him directly. “You are not going out in that kind of weather. I will not let you.”
“I’m not going anywhere if it’s that bad out,” Neil assures him. “Aaron was kidding. He wouldn’t send me out in a tornado.” He considers that for a beat. ”Probably.” Aaron’s muffled laughter is cut off with a hiss when Debbie does something to him that Neil can’t see. “Even if he tried, I wouldn’t leave you here.”
“I did not think you would, but…” Shaun trails off, reluctant to say more, either because of the topic itself or the witnesses a few feet away.
“I would never leave you anywhere.” Neil sets his hands on Shaun’s shoulders, searching his face to make sure the younger man believes him. “We stay together, Murphy.” He probably should have made that less of an order, but he can’t bring himself to amend it. Shaun doesn’t seem to mind, either, as his annoyance over them taking the weather too lightly fades away.
“Shaun, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Aaron’s rubbing the back of his neck when they look over at him. More thunder is rumbling nearby, though it’s not as loud as that which startled them a few minutes ago. “I don’t want anyone going home in weather like this. If it doesn’t clear up after dinner, I want you all to stay over.”
Neil envisions a troubled night’s sleep if that’s the case, but it’s better than the alternative of trying to get home in treacherous weather. The lights start flickering, because of course that’s what they need right now. "Hey Aaron, did you ever get that generator you were thinking about?” On the last word of Neil’s question they’re plunged into sudden darkness. (Neil might be more surprised if the universe didn’t love doing this kind of thing to him.)
“I bought it two weeks ago,” Aaron’s voice is cheerful, coming from somewhere in the depths of his kitchen. “I’m on the waitlist, so it should be here in 4 to 6 months.”
“I thought you were going with another store,” Debbie gripes. After some muttered complaints and fumbling from her general vicinity, there’s a bright light in their eyes from the flashlight on her phone, which she quickly lowers when she realizes she’s unintentionally blinding Neil and Shaun.
“I was going to,” Aaron defends himself, “but they were all more expensive.”
Her exasperation is obvious. “They were more expensive because you could get them delivered same day instead of being on the waitlist for a cheaper model.”
“I’m frugal, Deb.”
She gestures around them, the light beam from the phone in her hand waving wildly around the kitchen. “Have you seen where you live?”
“How do you think I got here?” he counters. “By saving money wherever I can.”
“You’re not frugal, you’re selectively cheap,” she accuses, “and it better not ruin our dinner.” She checks the time. “We only have another minute until the bread is done, and the oven should stay hot enough. Hopefully the power comes back soon.”
“If it doesn’t, are you going to berate me all night?”
“Don’t worry, Aaron,” Neil smirks at him, “we were going to do that whether it came back or not.”
“Know what, I rescind my offer to everyone to stay over,” he grumbles, half hearted though it is. “You can be on your merry way. Leave me to the lasagna in peace.” He pauses, in thought. “Except Shaun, he can stay because he’s not irritating me, unlike the two other annoying people in this kitchen.”
“We see how it is.” Debbie sets her phone on the counter so the flashlight illuminates the small area around them. “Shaun’s your favorite.”
Aaron shrugs, unbothered by the accusation. “I never tried to hide that.”
“It’s okay.” Neil’s words are for Aaron, but he’s smiling at his resident. “Shaun’s my favorite, too.”
“Oh God,” Aaron mumbles, turning away from them to search for the glass he left on the counter. “It’s going to be a long night.”
“Then aren’t you glad you have us for company?” Neil jokes, as a flash of nearby lightning is followed mere seconds later by a crack of thunder overhead, causing even Neil to jolt that time. Shaun presses closer to his side, and Neil isn’t sure which one of them he’s trying to comfort. Not that it matters.
“Aaron is extremely lucky to have us,” Debbie tells the room, as she goes to take out the garlic bread.
Aaron sends Neil a knowing look over his wine glass. “I certainly am.”
That’s a sentiment with which Neil wholeheartedly agrees—in fact, if they asked who was the luckiest among them, Neil would fight for that title. (There’s no doubt he’s the winner here.)
Another flash of lightning causes Shaun to inhale sharply, so Neil hugs him and promises right before the thunder hits that they’re going to be fine.
Chapter 20
Notes:
As always, thank you so much to everyone who's still here with me! This is part 2 of their dinner with Aaron and Debbie, and I'll probably have a third part to round out the night (mostly because I want to see what happens after this chapter ends).
I'm still dedicated to finishing this, even though life does not let me write/update as often anymore. I don't want to jinx anything, but I hope to have more free time this summer. I appreciate all readers, but I want to say a special thank you to everyone who has left me supportive feedback - you have no idea how much it keeps me going, especially after all this time. <3 <3 <3
Chapter Text
Thanks to Debbie’s wonderful cooking and the enjoyable company, dinner ends up being a pleasant (and delicious) affair.
They decide to eat in the dining room by candlelight, and while Shaun disapproves, he goes along with it because their options are limited. Aaron can only find three flashlights, which are all dead, and he can’t even remember the last time he bought replacement batteries. No one wants to use up their cell phone batteries for light, either, which leaves them with a random assortment of mismatched candles Aaron collected over the years. (Shaun rates him a ‘gravely concerning’ 2 out of 10 in the storm-preparedness department.)
On the bright side, Shaun has fun lecturing Aaron on the necessity of contingency plans, and that it will only take a weekend’s worth of errands to get him prepared for any short-term disaster that might befall San Jose. Their candlelit dinner also gives Shaun the opportunity to repeat the same ‘accidental house fire statistics’ that he tells everyone who uses candles. Debbie and Aaron are appropriately horrified, but not enough to want to eat in the dark.
Their dinner conversation covers a variety of topics, but centers mostly around work because it’s the major thing they all have in common. Neil and Shaun share stories about their patients and colleagues, Aaron mostly complains about how difficult the board and his subordinates make his life (Neil can relate), and Debbie entertains them with tales of her customers, who are mostly people they know. Neil thought he was caught up on gossip thanks to his team, but Debbie knows so much about everyone that it makes him wonder what she might secretly know about him.
After dinner, they retire to the living room to talk some more, hopeful for a window where conditions might improve enough to give them a chance to get home safely (though Shaun points out that’s overly optimistic thinking based on the worsening forecast). The room happens to be Neil’s favorite in Aaron’s home, furnished with comfortable couches and armchairs around an enormous stone fireplace which serves as the focal point.
San Jose has such a warm climate that fireplaces don’t get much use, but they’re welcome on nights like tonight, when the rain outside casts a chill over everything. Aaron’s fireplace happens to run on gas, so he’s able to turn it on despite the power outage, and the warmth intensifies the already cozy and intimate feeling of the room (which is no easy feat, given it’s as oversized as the rest of Aaron’s home). The fire also provides enough light that they don’t have to set up any more candles, much to Shaun’s relief.
Aaron and Debbie settle on the loveseat adjacent to the fireplace, leaving Neil and Shaun with the option of the larger couch across from them, or the two oversized armchairs which face the fireplace directly. Neil takes a seat at the end of the couch, leaving Shaun the option of sitting as close to him as he wants—though based on everything tonight, he’d be very surprised if his resident wanted to keep his distance.
Shaun wanders over to the large picture window, pulling back the curtains to survey the storm—or rather, what they can see of it through the darkness. There are a few distant lights from neighbors who must have generators, but that’s about all they can make out in the pitch black. The rain is nothing short of torrential, easy enough to hear even through Aaron’s high-tech, sound-absorbing windows (he’d once gone on about them for a solid hour during a surgery). The wind has picked up, too, and when lightning flashes outside, Shaun’s surprised into letting go of the curtain, shutting his eyes while he braces for the inevitable thunder.
“Hey, Murphy,” Neil says as soon as it’s over, causing Shaun to blink his eyes open. “Come join us.” He motions towards Aaron and Debbie, who are talking quietly on the other couch, then holds out a hand to Shaun. “We’re lonely over here.”
“You have already used that excuse tonight.” Despite Shaun’s complaint, he needs no convincing, already making his way across the room.
“Does that mean I can’t use it again?” Neil asks.
Shaun comes to a stop in front of Neil, staring down at him, and when it becomes apparent that he’d happily stand there disapproving all night, Neil takes his hand to pull him onto the couch. Shaun makes a show of sighing, but he’s smiling all the while, so Neil doesn’t really buy it. His resident settles cross-legged on the sofa next to him, close enough that their legs are almost touching, and makes himself more comfortable by rearranging various decorative throw pillows (that is, shoving them down the other end of the couch or onto Neil).
“You are not lonely,” Shaun insists, then tips his head towards Aaron and Debbie (who have gotten really close over there). “Neither are they.” He frowns at the pillows, then at Aaron, probably annoyed that he bought so many of them that there’s barely room to sit on the furniture.
“Fine, maybe they aren’t,” Neil relents, “but I’m definitely lonely, so I swear it’s not an excuse.” He helps balance the stack of pillows Shaun’s putting in his lap. “I missed you.”
Shaun’s incredulous enough that he stops in the middle of setting a third pillow on the stack. “We are in the same room.”
“I know.” Neil gives a helpless shrug. It’s insane is what it is, and Shaun is right to call him on it, but that doesn’t change facts. “It’s still true.”
“You are dramatic,” Shaun informs him, but he’s smiling as he resumes stacking pillows.
“If I’m so dramatic,” Neil nods at the two armchairs facing the fireplace, “feel free to sit anywhere else in the room.”
“I don’t want to,” Shaun says, seriously, and right when Neil’s about to smirk in victory, he adds, “You would sulk all evening. It would be unbearable.”
Aaron’s laughter proves he’d been listening to them long enough to hear Shaun’s not-really-a-joke. “He certainly knows you well, Neil.”
Neil can’t bring himself to deny it, but he’s still irked by Aaron’s amusement. Before he can order the older man to mind his own business, Shaun distracts him with a fifth pillow, so now the stack is somewhere even with his head. Since Neil has no idea what to do with them, he pushes them all onto the floor.
Shaun huffs in exasperation. “I could have done that.”
“Yes, you could have,” Neil makes a point to agree.
“These pillows are terrible,” Shaun tells Aaron, managing to turn it into an accusation.
“Yeah, what’s going on in here?” Neil kicks one of the pillows near his feet towards Aaron. “There weren’t this many the last time we were over.”
“Don’t blame me.” Aaron’s the picture of innocence, as if it isn’t his house they’re in. “I had several rooms redone a couple months back, so it’s the fault of the decorators. They told me they did everything based on the latest trends.”
“Pillows are not a trend,” Shaun complains.
Debbie’s openly judging Aaron. “I still can’t believe you pay people to decorate this place.”
“Thanks to my job, I frequently have to entertain.” Aaron’s immune to their criticism, and to be fair, he has a point. “My house needs to look good.”
“To their credit, your decorators have done a phenomenal job,” Neil admits, because he can appreciate a job well done. Aside from the odd excess of pillows, Aaron’s living room (and his whole house, really) is the perfect blend of fashionable, modern, and comfortable. “You could never pull this off on your own, Aaron.”
“I could come close,” the older man grumbles, in token protest. “The problem is I don’t have the time.”
“I’ve told you, I’ll happily decorate for free,” Debbie offers, the glint in her eyes suggesting they’ve had this conversation (or argument) before.
“No,” Aaron says flatly. “You forget that I’ve spent time at your place. ‘Country farmhouse’ is not my preferred style.”
“I think some inspirational wall art would be lovely,” Debbie forges onward, probably trying to annoy Aaron now. “I'm also willing to lend you some of my crystals until we can buy you some. They work to neutralize negative energy and keep your aura bright.”
Aaron’s offended by her offer. “Are you implying I’m not the most positive person you know?”
Debbie appraises him for a moment, then nods to herself. “I’ll bring them the next time I come over.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Neil tells her. “Aaron needs as much positive energy as he can get.”
Aaron glances suspiciously between them, not a fan of this new alliance. “You’re backing her up now?”
“Sorry,” Neil lifts a shoulder, “I like her better than you.”
“I should have fired you back when you were a resident and I could get away with it,” Aaron mutters. He doesn’t seem interested in continuing the argument, though, instead admiring his own living room with pride—and the dozens of pillows spread over every available seating area. “Okay,” he relents, after a few moments, “they might have gone a little overboard with the pillows.”
“I happen to like them,” Debbie admits, gathering pillows around herself and Aaron in rows, like she’s building a nest. “They’re cozy and warm up the space. I think you should buy more.”
Shaun recoils at her suggestion. “Do not give him worse ideas than he already has.”
“I told you, it wasn’t my idea!” Aaron’s continued protests spur him and Debbie to start arguing over who’s truly ‘responsible’ for the pillows, since Aaron signs off on everything his decorators suggest beforehand. Neil decides it’s a fantastic time to tune them out, and Shaun must have the same idea, paying them no mind as he settles further into the couch. The younger man finally seems comfortable now that he’s cleared their immediate vicinity of everything except himself and Neil.
A strong gust of wind against the house coincides with another round of thunder, both of which startle Shaun. Neil’s been keeping close tabs on him all evening, well aware of the stress he’s been under, and Shaun’s reaction to the storm brings it front and center again. Neil looks him over for anything out of the ordinary, but aside from some barely perceptible shivering, he doesn’t find anything concerning. He grabs a blanket from the back of the couch, more for comfort than warmth, and tosses it over Shaun, receiving a hum of thanks in return. His resident carefully arranges it over himself while Neil sets an arm on the couch behind him, leaning closer to ask, “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Shaun rests his head back against Neil’s arm and looks over at him. “I’m okay.”
Aaron and Debbie (who are still arguing about home décor) don’t seem to be paying them any attention, but Neil still pitches his voice lower. “Tell me if that changes.”
“Sometimes I don’t realize it,” Shaun admits, “but I will try.”
Neil studies him for a long moment before he nods, satisfied with that answer, and then Debbie distracts them by asking what they’re doing for the rest of the weekend. Shaun fills her in on their plans, and as it turns out, Aaron and Debbie also have a busy weekend ahead. They’re planning to visit Debbie’s niece Clara for dinner the following night, and since the young woman had just married her longtime girlfriend Annette, that naturally segues to Debbie telling them all about the wedding. Before long, she’s giving Neil and Shaun extensive advice for their wedding.
“Maybe you two should make a list,” Aaron suggests, with the unique type of enthusiasm he gets whenever he’s trying to annoy someone (usually Neil). “You don’t want to risk forgetting any of Debbie’s valuable advice.”
“I do not forget anything,” Shaun assures him.
“My descriptions don’t do their wedding justice,” Debbie sighs, and it’s worth noting that she only comes to this conclusion after she’s described basically every detail of her niece’s wedding from beginning to end. “Oh, let me find their wedding pictures! They have a preview page on the photographer’s website.”
Neil takes her phone after Debbie pulls up the site and Shaun leans into him a little so he can see, too. Neil scrolls through photos of Clara and Annette, along with other members of their wedding party, the guests, and the venue. It was a beautiful wedding, exactly as Debbie had described. Both brides wore complementary lavender gowns, with accents of ivory, a color scheme that repeated in the bridal party and the flowers.
As Neil nears the end of the photo gallery, there are more interior shots from the reception, which took place in a two story building with a spacious first floor opening up to a loft above. There are lanterns and twinkling lights strung up around the room, and the more pictures he scans, the more details are revealed, until Neil realizes… “Is this a barn?”
“Yes, it is.” Debbie presses both hands over her heart, a gesture Neil’s beginning to realize is common from her. “They were married on a charming, picturesque farm an hour south of the city, and their reception was in the renovated barn on the property.” Neil and Shaun exchange a glance, which Debbie must take as further interest. “The entire wedding was absolutely gorgeous. There’s even a lake at the edge of the property, as you can see in some of the photos. As for the barn itself, it fits with some kind of new wedding trend, I guess? How did Clara describe it…”
“…Rustic?” Shaun guesses.
She snaps her fingers as Neil leans over to give her phone back. “Right, rustic, that’s the word she used. I guess they saw it on several wedding planning shows and fell in love with the idea.” She props an elbow on the pillows in her lap, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “You two should consider a venue like that. It was expensive, but well worth it.”
“Money’s no object for Neil,” Aaron remarks, as Neil narrows his eyes—not for the comment itself, but for where he might be going with it. “However, I really have to insist on pitching in something for the wedding.” Aaron’s amusement only grows the more Neil glares. “I’d be happy to contribute any amount.”
“We don’t want your money,” Neil tells him, hopefully with enough force to get his point across.
“Just accept it,” Debbie urges. “It’ll make him happy, and better he spends it on you than a lot of other frivolous things.”
“Like you?” Aaron asks archly.
“I’m on the approved list,” she says, playfully. “I love it when you remind me how much I’m worth.”
“You’re priceless, that’s for sure.” Aaron’s tone is dry enough that he might be teasing, but it could also be a genuine compliment; it’s always hard to tell with him. “And she’s right, Neil.” Now there’s definitely an undercurrent of mocking in the older man’s voice. “It would make me happy.”
“Fine, Aaron,” Neil somehow manages to keep an even tone, “if we get married, then you can pay for whatever you want.”
“If?” Debbie catches his slip, her previous cheer replaced with curiosity, and a hint of concern.
It’s all Neil can do to stop from groaning out loud. She’s probably moments away from suggesting an impromptu therapy session. “You never know,” he uses humor to try and deflect, “Murphy might get tired of me before a wedding ever happens.”
“You’re worried he might come to his senses?” Aaron smirks.
“I would never,” Shaun tells Neil, solemnly.
“Come to your senses?” Aaron persists, as Shaun scowls over at him.
“Get tired of Neil,” he corrects, sharply enough that Aaron holds up his hands in a placating gesture. Shaun looks back at Neil, as if daring him to continue along with the joke. Neil knows when to keep his mouth shut, but he makes no effort to hide his smile at Shaun’s reaction.
“All day long,” Aaron’s telling Debbie, without bothering to lower his voice—in fact, he might have raised it. “This is what I have to deal with all day, every day.”
“We barely see you during the day,” Neil rolls his eyes. His team is busy taking care of their patients, and Aaron has a much easier time hiding in his office than Neil—Aaron’s secretary is terrifyingly effective at scaring people away if they don’t have anything important enough to be granted entrance. (Shaun’s about the only person in the hospital who won’t be deterred by her if he has his mind set on visiting Aaron.)
“And yet, you’re like this 100% of the time that I do see you,” Aaron replies. “I have to think it’s because you never stop.”
Debbie’s quite pleased by what she’s hearing. “If I’m following correctly, it sounds like there’s no if about whether you’re getting married or not.” She and Aaron are watching Neil and Shaun expectantly, and something in the back of Neil’s mind pings with suspicion. (Are he and Shaun being handled? Or is he just paranoid?)
While Neil’s analyzing their motive, Shaun steps in with an ‘answer’ for them. “Engaged people usually get married,” he says agreeably. It’s a statement of fact that says nothing about their own relationship, but Debbie must read some confirmation in it, because she breaks into a grin.
“There you go, Aaron.” Debbie clasps her hands and presses them to her mouth, which does nothing to hide her excitement. “They’re getting married and Neil told you himself that you can pay for anything you want at their wedding.”
“Sounds good to me.” Aaron isn’t smug or triumphant like Neil expected; if anything, he sounds serious. “I’ll pay for the entire thing.”
It’s exactly what Neil and Shaun predicted would happen, yet the younger man hasn’t said anything. Neil glances at him, curious about his silence when he’d normally be lecturing Aaron about not spending money on him. “Got an opinion on this, Murphy?”
“You are the one who told him he could pay for anything,” Shaun (rightfully) points out, in a brilliant evasion of any responsibility whatsoever. “I believe you two should resolve it.”
Neil feels the conversation slipping from his grasp. “You know I was kidding, Aaron.”
The older man shakes his head, refusing to let him get away with it. “I wasn’t.”
“It’s settled then,” Debbie decides, even though it most certainly isn’t. “I'll send everyone the information for my niece’s venue,” she adds, right back to trying to plan their wedding (which has quickly become a favorite pastime of everyone they know). “Do you want to get married soon? Or do you want to enjoy being engaged for a while?”
“Definitely the latter.” Neil seizes the unexpected out she’s given them, an easy way to avoid answering with anything too specific. “We’re in no rush.”
“Take your time.” Her advice is both warm and sincere. “There’s no reason to hurry things, especially when you’re already committed to each other.” She’s trying to fix a blanket over herself, but all the pillows she’d arranged around her and Aaron keep getting in the way. “How has engaged life been treating you?”
“It is…the same?” Shaun ventures, and it’s more or less true. Not much about their life has changed since Las Vegas, other than the label they use for their relationship. (Morgan’s claim is that all engaged couples experience an ‘annoying period of increased sappiness’ but she hasn’t witnessed it in Neil and Shaun…because they’re already at that level as a daily baseline.)
“I thought you might have some fun stories to share,” Debbie explains. “Though I admit, I hear a fair amount from your colleagues. Did you know the surgical department is involved in the most drama at our hospital?”
“That’s because everyone in it is insane,” Neil informs her, in case she didn’t already know. “Except for me and Shaun, of course.”
“Right, there’s nothing insane about you two,” Aaron openly mocks them.
Neil gets the point he’s trying to make, but he still takes offense at Aaron insinuating he and Shaun are as crazy as their co-workers. (Aaron knows those people just as well as Neil does, and that makes it all the worse.) “Take a good look at us, Aaron, because Shaun and I are about as sane as you’re going to find among our colleagues.”
It’s obvious Aaron wants to dispute that, but his frustration proves he can’t find a good enough argument. “God help us, but you might be right. Sometimes I think our hospital’s entire staff is a lost cause.”
”Hey,” Debbie’s none too happy, “I’m on that staff.”
Aaron’s expression doesn’t change. “What’s your point?”
“Neil and I both got asked out by the same person last week,” Shaun tells Debbie, just in time to prevent another round of bickering between the older couple. “Is that the type of story you wanted to hear?”
Debbie’s eyes light up as she forgets about her desire to berate Aaron. “That’s exactly what I meant.” Her grin gets impossibly wider. “Did you say yes?”
“No!” Shaun’s so appalled by her question that Neil has to fight back a smile. “Neither of us said yes.”
“I was only kidding,” she assures him. “Everyone knows you and Neil are hopelessly devoted to each other.”
“Hopelessly devoted,” Aaron echoes. “I hope that makes it into the vows.”
Debbie rounds on him so quickly that he reels away from her in surprise. “Zip it,” she snaps. “I refuse to let you get in the way of me hearing this story.” She returns her attention to Shaun with an encouraging smile. “So, how did you both get asked out by the same person?”
Thunder rumbles nearby and Shaun pulls the blanket tighter around himself, leaning into Neil’s side. “You can tell it if you want,” Shaun says quietly, which is a roundabout way of asking Neil to do it. Neil drops his arm from the back of the couch onto Shaun’s shoulders, pulling him closer and checking that he’s comfortable before he begins.
It was the week after they returned from Las Vegas, and it caught them both off guard because it had been a while since anyone approached either of them. Their co-workers are aware of their relationship, and even though Neil and Shaun meet plenty of new people, gossip spreads with lightning speed in their hospital. New staff and patients find out about them pretty quickly (Morgan’s explanation is that ‘people have eyes,’ which conveniently leaves out the fact that she announces their relationship to half the people they meet). Despite that, they do still occasionally come across people who have no idea about them, and it happened that afternoon.
Neil and Shaun had been speaking with one of their patients who was set to be discharged: Lily was a young woman in her early 20’s and she was due back for a few follow up visits. Her older sister Sophie had also been there because she was bringing Lily home. Neil and Shaun had spoken with Sophie a few times before, and though they didn’t know her well, she and her sister seemed close.
Since they’d been approaching the deadline for some formal observations—which bothered Shaun a lot and Neil not at all—he’d tasked his resident with taking the lead on the conversation, situating himself out of the way so he could observe and jot some notes in Lily’s chart. After they’d covered everything necessary, including her home care and dates she’d have to return, they’d wrapped up the conversation. Neil and Shaun had wished her well, reminding her they’d see her in four weeks.
They’d been about to leave when Sophie stopped them with a hopeful, “Dr. Murphy?”
Shaun had paused on his way to the door. “Yes?”
Lily was still seated on the hospital bed and grabbed her sister’s arm, hissing something unintelligible at her. Sophie had shaken her off with barely a glance, taking a step towards Shaun. “I want to thank you again for taking such great care of my sister. She’s lucky to have you for a doctor.”
“Yes, she is,” Shaun had agreed, sending Neil into a coughing fit in the corner when he tried to cover his laughter. “You don’t have to thank me, but you are welcome. We want your sister to get better.”
“I’d love to do something for you,” Sophie continued, in that same hopeful tone. “To thank you,” she added, upon seeing Shaun’s confusion. “Like…take you to dinner, or something?”
If Sophie had been abrasive or overbearing, Neil might have stepped in, but she was painfully earnest—it seemed like she truly wanted to thank Shaun, while also hinting that she’d be open to more. Considering the circumstances, Neil figured it was best for Shaun to handle the situation on his own. (He might have had some extra incentive to stay quiet—he’d wanted to see how Shaun would respond since he couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked out his resident right in front of him.)
“It would be unethical to accept a gift for treating your sister,” Shaun told Sophie, not yet realizing her underlying meaning. “I’m already compensated for my job. You do not owe me anything.”
“Okay, the dinner isn’t to thank you,” she hastily revised. “It’s to get to know you.”
Shaun hesitated. “Why do you want to get to know me?”
“Soph, stop while you’re behind,” Lily begged, burying her face in her hands.
“No one asked you, Lil,” Sophie threw over her shoulder. Turning back to Shaun, she answered, “Because you’re nice, and smart, and you’ve taken such great care of my sister, so… I thought we could grab a friendly dinner? Or more?”
Shaun had begun to pick up on her real question. “More than dinner?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Like a date, if you want.”
Shaun was shaking his head as soon as she said ‘yes’. “I cannot date you,” he told her (and even though Neil had been expecting that answer, the surge of relief he’d felt was nearly overwhelming). “I’m engaged.”
“Oh, that’s great! I had no idea.” Thankfully, Sophie had accepted the new information in stride. “Sorry, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known.”
“It’s fine.” Shaun brushed off her apology. “I never told you.”
“Are you marrying another doctor?” Sophie quickly switched gears, apparently feeling like she knew them well enough that she could pry into their personal lives (just like everyone they worked with). “I always wonder how realistic those hospital TV shows are, you know where every beautiful doctor only dates other beautiful doctors?” She completely ignored her sister pleading with her to please shut up. “I think they’re pretty accurate, but Lily insists they’re not.”
“He’s a surgeon,” Shaun revealed, and despite Neil standing right there, he didn’t add anything else. Could anyone really blame Neil for seizing such a perfect opportunity?
“Feel free to share details, Dr. Murphy,” Neil said, as Shaun slowly turned to look at him. “I’m sure your fiancé wouldn’t mind.” To the sisters, he explained, “Dr. Murphy is engaged to the top surgeon at our hospital. Brilliant, charming, all-around fantastic guy. Everyone loves him.”
Shaun was more than skeptical. “Everyone?”
“Everyone who counts,” Neil amended.
“That I will agree with,” Shaun nodded, because it was no secret that he didn’t think much of anyone who disliked Neil.
Sophie was looking between Neil and Shaun, clearly picking up on something, but not realizing what it was. “So…you really like his fiancé, huh?” she asked Neil.
“What’s not to like?” Neil directed his rhetorical question at Shaun.
“We could take a staff survey,” Shaun offered.
“Make it multiple choice,” Neil suggested. “‘Too amazing’ should be the first option.”
Shaun shook his head at Neil’s self-characterization, telling Sophie, “It is possible Dr. Melendez likes my fiancé more than I do.”
“It’s very likely,” Neil teased, happy to play along.
“Is this a love triangle situation?” Sophie had cut in. “Because that’s definitely a TV show plot. See, Lil, I told you every real life hospital was basically Grey’s Anatomy.”
“You’re delusional,” her sister informed her. “I’m sure doctors date each other as much as any other profession. That doesn’t mean every hospital is straight from a drama series.”
“Well…” Neil hedged, thinking of most his colleagues. “You could certainly make a strong case.”
“And what about you, Dr. Melendez?” Sophie turned her blinding smile on Neil, catching him by surprise—he’d forgotten she wasn’t aware of the game he and Shaun were playing. “Dr. Murphy might be taken,” she continued, “but I could treat you to dinner, instead…”
“You are shameless,” Lily sighed.
“Dr. Melendez,” Shaun’s voice was perfectly even, as if he weren’t intentionally baiting Neil, “I believe Sophie is asking you out as her second choice.”
Neil had stared at him, trying very hard to keep a straight face, as Sophie hurried to defend herself.
“You’re not my second choice,” she told Neil, “you’re just a lot older than us.” She motioned towards Shaun, Lily, and herself, clearly viewing them as part of the same age bracket to which Neil didn’t belong. When Neil turned his stare on her instead of Shaun, she added, “I could look past it!”
“This is so humiliating,” Lily muttered. “I’m disowning you as my sister for doing this to me in front of my doctors.”
Neil figured they’d gone around in circles long enough. “Sophie, as flattered as I am that you asked me out second, and that you think I’m old—this might be the worst way I’ve ever been asked on a date, by the way—I can’t go out with you, either.” He studied her for any sign she’d figured it out, shaking his head when he found nothing. “I’m engaged.”
“God, is every doctor here taken?” Sophie griped, more upset by that fact than Neil turning her down. “I should have gone to med school… Say, what’s the nurse situation like here?”
“Sophie!” Lily finally snapped. “We’re not at the hospital so you can find a date!”
“Why waste the opportunity though?” Like any good sibling, Sophie delighted in her sister’s misery. “Don’t you want me to find happiness?”
“After this little stunt you’ve pulled today, I’d be fine if you were dateless forever.” Lily turned to Neil and Shaun with a grimace. “I apologize on her behalf, especially to you, Dr. Melendez. You’re not that old.”
“…Thanks?” Neil shook his head and held up a hand. “Do you two really have no idea?”
The sisters exchanged questioning glances. “No idea about what?” Sophie asked.
“Me and Shaun?” Neil said, as the girls remained blank. “We’re both engaged?” There was still no understanding, so he had to spell it out in excruciating detail: “We’re engaged to each other.”
Sophie shook her head, trying to put it together. “But you were going on and on about his fiancé…”
“Because I feel like Shaun really undersold me.” Neil turned back to his resident. “I’m a ‘surgeon’? That was the best description you could come up with?”
“You are a surgeon!” Shaun exclaimed.
Meanwhile, Sophie had decided to pile all the blame onto her sister. “You let me ask out both of them?!”
“I tried to stop you,” Lily said defensively, as she looked at her doctors in a newfound light. “I didn’t know, either, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Is it a secret?” Sophie dropped her voice, which was unnecessary because there was no one else in the room with them. “Do you have to keep your relationship quiet so you don’t get fired? That happened on Chicago Med—”
“It’s not a secret,” Neil interrupted, before he could hear about whatever ridiculous thing happened on Chicago Med. (Neil couldn’t speak for his colleagues, but he and Shaun didn’t have anything that convoluted going on in their personal life…setting aside the whole fake engagement thing.) “Shaun and I don’t make a point of mentioning our relationship unless there’s a reason to.”
“Like if someone asks you both out?” Lily snickered.
“Yes,” Neil said dryly, “that’s a good time to mention it.”
“I’m just going to pretend this day never happened,” Sophie said under her breath, as she busied herself with gathering her sister’s belongings.
“Don’t worry,” Lily’s tone was nothing but cheerful, “I’ll remind you forever.”
“And we will see you in four weeks when you return,” Shaun reminded her.
“About that…” Lily began, innocently. “Soph, I’ll be needing you to bring me back.”
Sophie heaved the sigh of someone resigned to their fate. “Of course you will.”
Neil and Shaun had said their goodbyes for a second time, finally managing to escape. On their way out, Lily continued to relentlessly harass her sister, suggesting that when they returned the following month, Sophie could take the opportunity to hit on the rest of the doctors on her team.
“Hold on,” Aaron says, the second Neil’s done. He’s been on the edge of his seat for a while, and it was probably only fear of Debbie’s reaction that kept him from interrupting Neil a hundred times. “There’s no way that all happened like you said.” (Leave it to Aaron to critique Neil’s memory.)
“It was mostly accurate,” Shaun sort of defends him. “Except for when Neil claimed I kept provoking him.” He pushes himself off Neil’s shoulder and sits up so he can look directly at him for the first time since Neil began telling the story. “I was stating facts.”
“What a convenient explanation.” And Neil’s going to call him on it. “So it was necessary for you to state the fact that I was Sophie’s second choice?”
“You were her second choice!” Shaun’s indignation is real, but his smile gives away his true motive.
“Don’t forget that you were too old for her, Neil,” Aaron chuckles. “That might have been my favorite part of the story.”
“I enjoyed the whole thing,” Debbie says with a grin, going so far as to lightly applaud. “If you’re still in a sharing mood, I’d like to remind you that I haven’t heard your engagement story yet. All you told me was that people found out about it while you were in Las Vegas, but I haven’t heard any details about the engagement itself.”
“It’s not a long story,” Shaun tells her. “We talked about it and decided to get engaged.”
Debbie patiently waits half a minute for Shaun to continue before realizing he’s finished. “That’s…it?”
“I told you it was not a long story.”
“It took us less than ten minutes,” Neil adds, because it’s what they tell everyone, mostly for lack of much else to share. In their defense, there’s no great way of saying ‘we don’t have an engagement story because neither of us proposed in the traditional sense, we just went along with the rumors to keep up the cover of our fake relationship.’
“Really took your time with that life-altering decision,” Aaron remarks.
“The reasons are logical,” Shaun tells him. “There was no need to discuss it for a longer period of time.”
“Well, if the reasons are logical…” Aaron doesn’t seem convinced, “then I guess you had no choice but to get engaged.”
“We had a choice.” Shaun’s reply is a little too sharp. “We made a decision.”
“So…wait…” Debbie isn’t following Shaun’s explanation. “No one actually proposed?”
Neil shrugs, glancing at Shaun. “I suppose technically I did?” Not that Neil would phrase it that way. “I suggested it first.”
Aaron’s attention snaps over to him. “It was your idea?”
Neil had been under the impression that Shaun told Aaron everything about that night, but apparently he’d left at least one detail out. “You didn’t know?”
“Shaun didn’t mention that, no.” Aaron’s not impressed with this development, and Neil feels the way Shaun tenses because of how closely they’re sitting.
“I did not lie.” Shaun sounds calm enough that Neil would be fooled if he didn’t know him so well. “You came to the conclusion on your own.”
“You let me believe it.” Aaron has a fair point, and to his credit, he’s not angry or judgmental the way he would have been in the not too distant past. Right now he sounds…concerned. Worried. (Neil can certainly relate to that.) “Why didn’t you correct me?”
Shaun sits up straighter, folding his hands in his lap, and stares at Aaron across the short distance between the two couches. Everything about him is carefully controlled, as if he’s preparing for a fight. “I did not correct you because I did not want to,” he says bluntly, and so unapologetic that Aaron blinks in surprise. “You blame Neil for decisions we make together,” Shaun accuses, reminding Neil of their conversation in the car on the way over. Shaun had been worried that Aaron might scrutinize Neil, or find a way to blame him entirely for their engagement.
For someone so intent on Aaron knowing the truth, Shaun had allowed this minor deception for one reason: he didn’t want Aaron to be angry with Neil.
Shaun’s trying to protect him, and looking back, Neil has to conclude that his resident’s been doing so for a long time. Over the past few months, there have been plenty of instances where Neil expected Aaron to be upset with him over something that had to do with Shaun, but then the older man just…wouldn’t be. Aaron will always enjoy being his usual caustic self, especially where Neil is concerned, but he doesn’t get angry the way he used to.
How has Shaun been describing their relationship to Aaron? Neil had never given it much thought before, but if the current conversation is any clue, Shaun must have been emphasizing how much they’re equal co-participants, rejecting any question or suggestion to the contrary.
“I don’t blame Neil for things,” Aaron’s trying to claim, clearly frustrated as he leans forward on the couch. “Not the way you’re thinking.”
“You do,” Shaun says, sharply. “Do not try to claim otherwise.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Aaron insists. “Maybe it comes across that way, but when I disagree, or question things, it’s not about Neil. It’s about you.”
Shaun pauses at that. “…Me?”
“Yes, you. I only want your happiness, Shaun. You two aren’t exactly…conventional. In terms of how you’ve gone about things. I just want to make sure that both of you,” despite his words, he says that with a pointed look at Shaun, “are okay with everything.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay.” Shaun’s question is flat enough that it sounds like a demand for Aaron to justify himself. “He is Neil.”
“He’s Neil,” Aaron murmurs, then laughs lightly, but it’s at himself. “You’re right, Shaun, and I know that. Like I said, it’s not really about Neil. I would worry no matter who you were in a relationship with.” He leans back on the couch as Debbie rubs his arm. “I’m a little protective.” That earns him disbelief from everyone present and he groans. “Fine, I can be overprotective, at times.”
“I understand.” Shaun’s annoyance is slowly fading the more Aaron explains. “You do not need to worry about me.”
“But I’m always going to.” It’s Aaron’s turn to be unapologetic, even as Shaun shakes his head. “I love you, and I want the best for you. I have fought for the best for you, because you’re brilliant and talented and you’ve worked harder than anyone else I’ve ever met. You deserve to get the things you want. You deserve to be happy.”
“I am happy,” Shaun insists. “I feel like you don’t believe me.”
“I do believe you,” Aaron assures him. “It took me a while to see it, but I do. I’m still always going to worry, because the thought of you getting hurt while I stood by and watched it happen…or worse, didn’t prevent it when I had the chance…” He trails off, wearier than Neil has seen him in a long time, clearly not a fan of their difficult (though necessary) conversation. “Those thoughts are constantly in the back of my mind. I’ll admit, I’m not great at getting that across.”
“It’s okay,” Shaun says, right before a sudden crash of thunder makes him flinch. Neil touches his shoulder, and that’s enough for Shaun to collapse back into his side, built up tension seeping out of him when Neil sets his arm back around his shoulders.
“But it’s not okay, is it?” Aaron’s watching them closely. “Not if it upsets you. I keep expecting the worst, worried that things will change, or one of you will regret this, or get hurt or… I’m not even sure what.”
Shaun’s quiet for a moment before he cautiously asks, “Why do you think that will happen?”
“You have to admit,” Aaron’s words are careful, “there are a lot of reasons your relationship shouldn’t have worked, let alone become…” He vaguely waves a hand at them, struggling for a description. “This.”
Neil can’t deny they’ve put Aaron in the difficult position of being the only person who knows the truth about them, and that was on top of having to accept a relationship he’d never understood. Aaron’s not wrong in his assessment of them, either—there are a lot of factors that should have kept Neil and Shaun from becoming so much as casual friends, let alone finding themselves entangled in each other’s lives to the point that Neil can’t imagine them ever separating again.
If Neil knows Aaron, the older man is going to share every single one of his reasons they shouldn’t work in some bid to make a point.
“Aaron,” he tries, knowing it’s probably futile, “you don’t have to list—”
“You’re his boss,” Aaron begins listing, “and his mentor. You’re drastically older than him, which even your patients have noticed—”
“Drastically?” Neil takes offense at that, even as he wonders if it’s an accurate description. Just because they were born two decades apart—okay, it does sound drastic when he puts it that way. (He won’t put it that way anymore, problem solved.)
Aaron isn’t done yet. “Let’s also not forget how…difficult your relationship was when you first met.”
Neil appreciates him putting it nicely, at least. Maybe Aaron will never fully get past that period in their lives, and honestly, Neil wouldn’t blame him. Before he can tell Aaron that, Shaun speaks up to challenge the older man.
“People are allowed to be wrong.” Shaun’s voice holds a warning. “They are also allowed to make up for it.” Aaron tries to speak, but Shaun cuts him off. “We have all been wrong.”
Neil’s always conflicted when Shaun defends his early behavior towards him. “Shaun, you don’t have to—”
“I don’t care what you did,” Shaun fiercely interrupts, twisting to face Neil. “I care what you do.”
Shaun’s freely offered forgiveness will always be a marvel to Neil. It lessens the guilt and eases the deep regret he feels whenever he lets himself reflect on that time in their lives. Shaun’s practical and doesn’t enjoy dwelling on things that can’t be changed. That might be why he finds it easier to move on, while Neil (and clearly Aaron) are so often dragged back into the past. Even more than that, Shaun refuses to let anyone use that time as a weapon against Neil, even though he deserves it.
There’s nothing Neil can say to him—no apology or promise to do better that he hasn’t already said a hundred times before. And no ‘thank you’ will ever be adequate for everything Shaun has brought into his life.
Instead, he pulls Shaun closer, hugging him in gratitude. After he lets go enough for the younger man to resettle against him, Neil returns his attention to Aaron. “Look, I’m not going to deny any of those things you said because they’re all true. If I were you, I’d have serious reservations about me, too.”
Aaron’s shaking his head in denial. “I’ve seen you together over the past year. Believe me, Neil, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“Good, because I wasn’t sure if I needed to remind you how this began.” Neil’s being deliberately vague, but Aaron will know what he means—he agreed to fake a romantic relationship with Shaun in order to protect him. Shaun had come up with the idea and he’d asked, in his own way, for Neil to help him sell it. The request would have been crazy coming from anyone, least of all Shaun Murphy, the most practical and logical person Neil Melendez has ever known.
And yet, Shaun had asked, and now they’re sitting together in Aaron’s living room, eight months later, happier together than most people Neil knows in real relationships.
“Ah yes, Jacob Ellis.” Aaron seems amused at the reminder, probably because Ellis hadn’t lasted long at St. Bonaventure after that. Following their chat in the breakroom, Ellis had made sure to keep himself well away from Shaun’s vicinity. He’d eventually transferred hospitals, moving out of state.
“I’ve heard all about him,” Debbie reveals, and after the wide range of stories she’d shared during dinner, Neil isn’t surprised. “When he quit and moved away a couple months ago, there were rumors you threatened him into it.”
“I didn’t threaten him,” Neil sticks to his usual defense. “It’s not my fault if some people interpreted it that way.”
His colleagues like to bring up Ellis from time to time, probably because their encounter has become such an exaggerated tale around the hospital. The rumor goes something like this: anyone who crosses Shaun in a way Neil deems unacceptable will meet with a similar, unfortunate fate. Each version Neil hears is more embellished than the last, and it became even more ludicrous after Ellis moved away, with people claiming that Neil not only drove him out of the hospital, but out of San Jose altogether.
Neil hadn’t gone out of his way to make Ellis feel welcome, but he’d hardly driven him out of the city—not that Neil has ever bothered to deny those particular rumors. Why would he when he likes them so much? Let people wonder how far his reach extends. After all, if he ever did want someone gone that badly, he’s sure he could find some way to do it. He’s always been resourceful.
“Maybe you have a different definition of ‘threaten’,” Aaron suggests, and despite the attempt at sounding stern, there’s not a trace of disapproval in his words. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, either way, since you got the result you wanted.” It’s unclear if he’s referring to Ellis quitting, or how successfully Neil and Shaun’s relationship has kept everyone else at a distance, but both are true.
“We did,” Neil says, as Shaun nods against his shoulder in agreement.
“I’ve watched you two since the day you met,” Aaron tells them. “I’ve seen your relationship shift from one extreme to the other, and I’ve never seen anything like it. Seriously. Nothing like it.” It’s obvious he’s referring to the underlying arrangement they’d made. “I might need some reminding from time to time—like when you text me in the middle of the night that you’re engaged after a ten minute discussion—but if you’re happy…that’s what I care about.”
“I believe you,” Shaun says, “but sometimes…it feels like you want to be right.”
Surprise flashes across Aaron’s face, followed just as quickly by regret. “It’s not about being right. It’s about not wanting you to get hurt. I’m sorry if I’ve given you cause to think otherwise. As I said…” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “I haven’t expressed it in the best way, at times, but your happiness is what’s important to me.” He meets Shaun’s eyes when he says firmly, “I’m going to do better.”
“Okay,” Shaun easily accepts the promise.
Aaron breathes out in noticeable relief, but he hasn’t finished saying his piece on the matter. “I know you’ve both said you got engaged because the reasons are practical, and I get it, I do.” He pauses to rein himself in, and maybe to question if he should keep going, but with another look at Neil and Shaun, he continues. “Please don’t get married because it’s practical. Don’t get married because you’ve weighed a list of pros and cons and found more points in the pro column. You should get married because you’re in love.” His deeper worry is glaringly obvious, but he says it out loud for good measure: “Shaun, I want you to have a marriage based on love.”
“I would only get married for love,” Shaun reassures him, which is something he’s said on more than one occasion. “I have told you that.”
“No matter how much ‘sense’ it makes to get married, right?” Aaron presses.
“Right,” Shaun slowly agrees, “but…I believe it should be both.” His words get stronger when Neil brushes his fingers over his shoulder in encouragement. “Compatibility does not ensure a successful relationship, but love does not guarantee it, either. Two people can love each other and not be compatible. That is a major reason for failed relationships.”
Debbie’s nodding along with his explanation. “You make a wonderful point, Shaun, and I happen to find practicality romantic.” She stretches her arms, accidentally knocking some of the pillows around her onto the floor. “I’m always telling Aaron that people nowadays should be more practical.”
Aaron’s scoffing before she’s even done talking. “I’ve never once heard you say—”
“I say it all the time,” she hisses, whacking him with one of the pillows.
“Right.” Aaron makes no effort to sound believable. “You say it all the time.”
Shaun’s rightfully suspicious. “It does not sound like she says it all the time.”
“I do!” she insists, reaching over to retrieve her wine glass from the coffee table. “I said it ten seconds ago, and I meant it. I think a lot of people make really questionable relationship decisions—”
“I see you’ve met my residents,” Neil quips.
“Yes, only the residents do that.” Aaron rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and Neil…has no defense.
“As I was saying,” Debbie tries to refocus them, “making major decisions based only on emotions can backfire, so it’s refreshing to hear you two talked over your engagement and made a practical decision.” She holds up her glass in toast, genuinely happy for them despite not knowing them well, and Neil finds it heartwarming. “It’s wonderful when a young couple knows exactly what they want.”
“Wait, you’re including Neil as part of a young couple?” Aaron asks skeptically, causing Debbie to take a long sip of her wine before setting her glass back down.
“He is.” Her tone dares Aaron to keep going.
“Neil is over 40,” Shaun chimes in. “That is not what most people consider ‘young’.”
Predictably, Aaron bursts out laughing. “Want to say that again, Shaun? Because the look on Neil’s face…”
Neil wouldn’t describe himself as young, but he has to protest the direction this is going. “I’m hardly that old.”
“I did not say you are old,” his resident clarifies, “only that you are not young.”
“If I’m not old and I’m not young, where does that leave me?”
“Middle-aged?” Aaron suggests, innocently enough that Neil wants to follow Debbie’s example and throw a pillow at him.
“Know who thinks I’m young?” Neil shoots back. “Your girlfriend, that’s who.”
“That’s because she is much older than you,” Shaun explains to Neil. “You only seem young to her by comparison.” Aaron nearly chokes in his desperate attempt at stifling his laughter.
“You’re one to laugh, considering you’re the oldest person in the room,” Debbie reminds Aaron, who only laughs more openly, even as he hugs her in apology. “And yes, Shaun, it’s true that the older you get, the younger everyone else seems in comparison.” A lot of people would have perceived Shaun’s explanation as an insult, but Debbie’s unoffended by his statement of fact.
“I do not care how old you are,” Shaun promises Neil, then frowns over at Aaron. “You should reconsider your opinions when they are hypocritical.”
Aaron tries his best to divert Shaun. “We don’t really have to get into—”
“Debbie is 14 years younger than you,” Shaun cuts him off.
“Are we sure it’s only 14 years?” Neil hums in disbelief. “I think anyone would have guessed Debbie was at least 30 years younger than Aaron.”
“Oh please, Neil,” Debbie laughs, not believing him for a second, but delighted all the same. “You’re smooth, I’ll give you that. Did you know I’m closer in age to you than to Aaron?”
“You are also closer in age to Neil than I am,” Shaun points out.
Aaron’s eyes widen as he does the math and realizes they’re both correct. “Deb, you and Neil are in the same dating pool?” He glances between them, brow furrowed in consternation. “That doesn’t seem right.”
Debbie’s face might as well be set in stone. “Why doesn’t it seem right, Aaron?”
“Because…you are…so far out of his league?”
Debbie sighs, but it’s good-natured. “That might have worked if it didn’t sound like you were guessing.”
“He’s right, though,” Neil tells her. “You’re definitely out of my league, and way out of Aaron’s. I don’t know how he landed you, to be honest.”
“Hey now—” Aaron tries to interject.
“Shaun was very convincing,” Debbie says, right over him.
Shaun ignores Aaron’s muttering protests, the same as Debbie. “I knew you would like each other,” he explains, not for the first time. He’s obviously pleased with his success at matchmaking (which had mostly consisted of pestering both of them until he wore them down).
“We’re grateful that you pushed us,” Aaron admits.
Shaun shrugs, as if he’d done something anyone would do. “Good people deserve each other.”
Debbie seems affected by his simple explanation. “Thank you, Shaun.”
“Isn’t he the best?” Neil asks, since he’s on an unending mission to get everyone to acknowledge that fact at some point.
“He is,” Debbie agrees, and Neil’s opinion of her (which was already pretty high) climbs even further.
“I’m only telling the truth,” Shaun protests, which proves Neil’s point even more.
“So am I,” Neil tells him. “You’re the best.”
Debbie’s gaze is sharper on Neil than before. “Shaun, I hope you know how wise your fiancé is.”
“He is the smartest person I know,” Shaun happily informs her. “After myself.”
“You’d say such a thing while I’m in the room?” Aaron mock gasps, his arm encircling Debbie’s shoulders when she gets more comfortable next to him. “Melendez cannot be smarter than me. And if he is, I taught him everything he knows.”
“It’s true,” Neil says wryly, “med school had nothing to do with it. Everything I know is thanks to you, Aaron.” He stops to consider his words after hearing them. “You know, I was trying to make a joke, but it falls flat when it’s more true than not. You taught me almost every practical real life skill that med school didn’t cover.”
“Thank you, Neil.” Aaron’s surprised, but pleased. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“That’s what I tell my residents,” Neil says, before Shaun can call him out (as he so loves to do). “It pays off, too. Shaun just said I was smart.”
“He’s your fi-an-cé,” Aaron emphasizes each syllable, “he has to be nice to you.”
“I want to be nice to Neil,” Shaun corrects him.
Aaron sighs fondly. “Even when he’s impossible?”
Shaun’s amused by the question. “Yes, even then.” He turns to smile at Neil. “All the time.”
Neil knows exactly how he feels. “I appreciate that, but I like to think I’m not too impossible anymore.”
“You should have seen Melendez before he met Shaun,” Aaron tells Debbie. “He needed so much help.”
“He did not,” Shaun defends him. “He only needed some help.”
Aaron continues explaining for Debbie’s sake. “Neil never got his paperwork done on time until he met Shaun. He also skipped 90% of his meetings and we had to bribe him to attend important events.”
“That last one is a lie,” Neil accuses. “You issued a lot of threats, but I don’t remember any bribes.”
“I have fixed most of those things,” Shaun tells Debbie, brazenly taking credit for all of Neil’s self-improvement over the past year.
“You two make it sound like I could barely function,” Neil gripes. “Give me some credit.”
“You are a perfectly capable adult,” Shaun tries to soothe him. “When you want to be.”
It’s like Neil is the only person around here with priorities. “Sorry that I’m busy saving lives.”
“Yet you magically do most of those things without argument nowadays,” Aaron says, with a hint of a smirk. “I wonder what changed…”
Shaun apparently sees this as an opportunity to air his grievances. “Dr. Glassman, were you aware that Neil had not visited a doctor in three years when I met him? He recently agreed to take better care of himself.”
Neil goes with his standard excuse: “I hate doctors, which is a great reason to avoid them.”
Aaron’s shaking his head. “You chose the right profession.”
“I don’t care if you hate doctors.” Shaun’s unimpressed with his reasoning (such as it is). “You still have to see them.”
“I thought Neil was a ‘perfectly capable adult’?” Aaron goads.
“Yes, when he wants to be,” Shaun repeats, with more emphasis. “The rest of the time, I have to convince him.”
“Convince me, force me,” Neil teases. “What’s the difference?”
“You have to take care of yourself.” Shaun isn’t lecturing anymore, he’s just stating facts. “If you won’t do it, then I will.”
“It’s not that I won’t do it, I just don’t feel any rush. I have…a relaxed timetable.”
“It’s not a timetable if there is no end point,” Shaun patiently scolds, in that way Neil never gets tired of hearing. “That is just called not doing something.”
Shaun’s right, as usual, so Neil has to deflect. “How do you know I wasn’t going to set up those appointments eventually?”
“We both know you weren’t.”
“Can you prove it?”
Shaun isn’t very happy with his question. “That is an impossible premise to prove.”
“Which is why I have so much fun asking you to do it,” Neil admits, with a laugh.
“Then you automatically lose,” Shaun decides.
“Right,” Neil’s overly serious, “I only win the arguments you say I win.”
“You win the arguments you actually win,” Shaun says forcefully, like this better be the end of it or so help Neil. “Which does not include this one.”
“There you have it.” Neil tosses up his free hand in a What can you do? gesture for Aaron and Debbie. “I lost this one.”
Debbie glances uncertainly between Neil and Shaun, then to her wine glass on the coffee table, and back again. “I’m not sure what you were arguing about…?”
Aaron reads her silent concern and has the gall to laugh about it. “Trust me, Deb, it’s not the wine. They’re always like this.”
“Neil likes to argue,” Shaun tells her.
“Shaun likes to bait me,” Neil counters.
“Congratulations!” Debbie’s sigh is romantic. “You’re perfect for each other.”
“They know.” Aaron sighs, too, in exasperation. “They’re getting married.”
Neil ignores him, focusing on Debbie instead. “I might complain from time to time—”
“You love to complain,” Shaun helpfully puts in.
“—but I do appreciate it when Shaun looks out for me.” He tightens his arm around Shaun’s shoulders. “It’s one of the many reasons he’s my favorite resident.”
Aaron feigns confusion. “And here I thought he was your favorite because he agreed—against all odds—to marry you.”
“Hmm,” Neil pretends to think about it, “no, that can’t be it. He was my favorite a long time before that.”
“Just what your boss wants to hear,” Aaron dryly tells him, “blatant, admitted favoritism—and you wondered why you had to put your relationship on record!” Despite the mini-lecture, there’s no scolding in his tone, and Neil has to admit the other man has a (slight) point. Aaron must notice Shaun has taken that accusation a little too seriously. “Before you can start on me, Shaun, we don’t have to argue about this. I know that when it comes to your jobs, Neil is as impartial as it gets—but no one would know that if they went by the ridiculous things you two say to each other.”
“Are they ridiculous if they’re true?” Neil muses.
“Yes,” Aaron groans. “That’s why they’re ridiculous! Luckily for you, I’ve learned over the years to cover all my bases and document everything, which is why I sent you straight to HR.”
“Correction, you had Marcus send us straight to HR.” Neil barely resists rolling his eyes. “Which conveniently kept you out of it.”
“I knew you’d have some choice words about the matter.” Annoyingly, Aaron has mastered the art of being smugly unapologetic. “So yes, Neil, I let him deal with you. I told you earlier: perks of being the president.”
“Trust me, he loved my irritation.”
“He was excited when I asked him to handle it,” Aaron reveals, and Neil doesn’t manage to stop his eye roll that time. “Besides, you know that reporting relationships is standard practice when hospital employees become personally involved.”
“It’s also standard practice to reassign residents who begin relationships with their attendings,” Neil points out, because he’s had his suspicions about this for a while, but never had a good chance to ask Aaron about it. He can’t let such a perfect opportunity pass them by, not when Shaun’s right here and deserves to hear the answer from Aaron himself. “So how did we get around that one?”
“Ah, right.” Aaron taps his mouth, watching Shaun for a moment; the younger man has gone unnaturally still at Neil’s side, betraying how much he’s paying attention. “That’s another perk of being the president. Believe it or not, Marcus was actually the first one to make a strong case to keep you together, and I happened to agree with him. So I let it be known to everyone, and especially the board, that your separation would have too high of a cost: the end of the best professional match-up I’ve had the honor to witness. Your partnership—and I’m speaking professionally, not personally—has only caused our hospital to grow in acclaim and popularity. As you know, the more those increase, the more funding and donations we receive.”
“More money means less people die,” Neil recites one of Shaun’s favorite mantras. He’s keeping half an eye on his resident, who hasn’t looked away from Aaron. “Is that why you kept us together? Acclaim and popularity and money?”
“Only in the sense that it helps our overall mission.” Aaron looks back at Shaun, who still hasn’t said a word. “What I care about is the lives you save. What I care about is both of you. How could I split you up?” He turns his gaze to the ceiling, perhaps reliving the early days of their (pretend) relationship. “You would have been miserable. I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Aaron.” Debbie’s struggling to keep her emotions in check, and Neil wonders if the wine is a contributing factor. “That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh no.” Aaron briefly shuts his eyes. “I promise you, it was entirely selfish. I couldn’t let them turn on me.”
“Stop pretending you don’t have a heart.” She’s trying to discreetly wipe her eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone.”
“I was not aware you did any of that,” Shaun tells Aaron, after taking a few minutes to process the other man’s explanation of how they’ve gotten around the hospital’s rules. “Thank you.”
Aaron shakes his head. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”
“Yes,” Shaun’s voice has acquired an edge, “there is.” Neil hides his smile in Shaun’s shoulder, having lived countless versions of this argument with his resident over the past year.
Aaron’s still trying to brush off the gratitude. “It’s not something that—”
“Aaron.” Neil’s too tired to let them go back and forth for the next ten minutes until Aaron gives in (because Shaun won’t be the one to do it). “Let him thank you.”
Though Aaron’s far from thrilled, he’s smart enough to avoid an argument with both Shaun and Neil. When he looks back at Shaun, his expression softens. “You’re welcome.”
Shaun nods at him, then twists to look at Neil, studying him for a long moment. “You always try to keep us from fighting.”
There’s a good reason for that. “I hate it.”
“Yes.” Shaun’s voice drops. “So do I.”
There’s a pang in Neil’s chest, the same one he feels every time Shaun and Aaron fight. “Why do you think I hate it?”
Arguments with Aaron never fail to upset Shaun, whether they resolve things quickly or not. The very act of fighting is usually enough to bring the younger man down for weeks, and when Shaun is struggling…Neil isn’t happy, to say the least. As such, he tries to act as their mediator, stopping their fights whenever he can, and if that fails, he helps them work through their issues. He likes to think he’s making a difference—and Shaun noticing it tells him he’s doing something right.
Shaun’s lost in thought for long enough that Neil’s about to ask if he’s okay, but then he snaps back to himself. “Thank you, Neil.”
“You’re welcome, my favorite resident.” He won’t pass up the chance to taunt Aaron, either. “See how easy that was?”
Aaron groans, as if he cannot take them. “You two are—”
“—adorable!” Debbie croons, right as Aaron huffs, “—ridiculous.”
“You really have to come up with new ways to describe us,” Neil tells Aaron, because ‘ridiculous’ is what the other man goes with about 75% of the time (and he just used it five minutes ago!). “I recommend asking Morgan, she has quite the list.”
“Nah, that’s okay.” Aaron shrugs off the suggestion. “I’ll stick with ‘ridiculous’.”
“They are not.” Debbie’s annoyed on their behalf, doing her level best to stare Aaron down, even though she’s the one looking up at him. “Maybe you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in love?”
Aaron removes his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Neil. Shaun.” He sighs heavily. “I want to thank you for making my life so difficult.”
“I really think you do that to yourself,” Neil counters, as Aaron replaces his glasses so he can glare at him.
“Oh, he does,” Debbie readily agrees, and she’s not done with him yet, either. “They’re setting a pretty high bar for you to live up to, Aaron. I expect you to start telling me that I’m your favorite at every opportunity.”
“Deb, if I ever start acting like either one of them,” he nods towards Neil and Shaun without so much as looking their way, “you have to promise you’ll break up with me.”
“Hopeless,” she sniffs. “You are utterly hopeless.”
Aaron’s trying to scowl at her, but the light in his eyes gives away how much he’s enjoying their banter. “Please tell me you’re not actually using them as a benchmark for anything. Because they are…” Aaron falls into silence, searching for an explanation before giving up. “I don’t think I could put it into words if I tried, and I’ve seen it from the beginning.”
“Do you think they’ve forgotten about us?” Neil whispers to Shaun when the older couple keeps talking as if they aren’t in the room.
“It appears so.” Shaun’s unbothered by that fact, resting more on Neil as they watch Aaron and Debbie continue to bicker—about them.
“Of course I’m not expecting you to be exactly like them!” Debbie’s laughing off Aaron’s accusation, as if it’s absurd. “I don’t think anyone could be. All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t mind hearing how great I am from time to time. I think you’re pretty great,” she adds, with some petulance, and Neil again wonders if the wine is pulling her emotions closer to the surface.
Aaron must notice it, too, because he drops the teasing. “You are incredible,” he promises, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “How’s that?”
“It will do for now,” she says primly, trying to seem unaffected, but she’s practically glowing at having gotten exactly what she wanted.
Neil finds it pretty ironic (not to mention hypocritical) that the couple who consider him and Shaun to be overly affectionate is completely absorbed in each other, but before he can bring up his damning point, a howling gust of wind against the house causes Shaun to shiver with unease. For most of the evening, aside from occasional bouts of thunder and lightning, the storms have been background noise they could mostly ignore. Now, though, it’s clear the weather is worsening again, and everyone looks up in unison when thunder rumbles overhead.
Neil shifts enough to drop his chin onto Shaun’s shoulder and murmur, “We’re staying.” Shaun doesn’t reply, but he nods to show he’s officially onboard with that plan. “We’ll take you up on that offer to stay the night,” Neil says more loudly, so Aaron and Debbie can hear.
“I’m relieved you aren’t going to try to get home in this.” Debbie has her phone out, holding it so Aaron can read the screen along with her. “This says the storms are going to last well into the early morning.”
“I would rather leave,” Shaun admits, “but it’s too dangerous to drive in this weather.” He doesn’t have to explain that he dislikes sleeping in unfamiliar places. He’d stayed overnight at Aaron’s a handful of times in the past, but they were all back when Aaron was going through his cancer treatments.
“I’m glad I don’t have to insist you stay.” Aaron starts pushing aside the pillows Debbie has built up around them. “The cleaning service changes the sheets in the guest rooms every week even if the beds aren’t slept in, so everything is clean. Shaun, you can take the room you’ve stayed in before, and Neil, you can choose between the other two guest—”
“Aaron!” Debbie’s exclamation startles him into silence. “You better not be about to give some horribly cliché ‘not under my roof’ spiel.”
“What?” Aaron’s completely thrown. “I wasn’t—”
“Neil and Shaun are grown adults,” she steamrolls right over his protests, “they’re in a relationship, and they’re engaged, if you recall.” She shoves a few pillows in his direction, eyes flickering with suppressed amusement when he pettily pushes them right back. “They can sleep in the same bed, for goodness’ sake.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Aaron tries to convince her. “I was only…” His sentence fades as he searches for the best way to defend himself, but gives up with a helpless shrug, probably having realized there isn’t any way he can explain the entire truth. Not without admitting that Neil and Shaun’s relationship is fake, so like any reasonable person, he assumed they would want separate rooms.
In truth, Neil should be helping Aaron come up with some believable excuse for why he and Shaun are going to sleep in different rooms, but…he doesn’t want to. Not tonight. (Not any night, really, but especially not tonight.)
How could he want to send Shaun off to his own room—to be alone—after the toll this evening has taken on him? That’s not even factoring in the terrible weather, which means Shaun is going to be struggling with his anxiety until morning.
Come to think of it, there’s a good chance Shaun might not sleep at all, and everything in Neil rebels at the idea of separating from him. He doesn’t want to lie alone in his own room, worrying about Shaun and wondering if he’s okay. He’s already miserable at the thought of it, but he needs to pull himself together and manage to sound halfway convincing when he comes up with something that makes sense, because he would never force Shaun to share a room with him. Sure, they’d shared the suite in Las Vegas, but that had been under completely different circumstances.
No, just like everything else, if they did that again, it would have to be Shaun’s decision.
(And yes, maybe Neil has missed sleeping next to him ever since that weekend, but he’s been dealing with it perfectly fine. So what if his sleep has been restless, leaving him more tired than usual? It’s only been a couple weeks and he’ll get used to being alone again. After all, Neil’s spent most of his life sleeping alone, so it should be easy enough to reacclimate…any day now he’s going to reacclimate.)
Shaun hasn’t reacted to Aaron’s suggestion or to Debbie’s well-meaning intervention on their behalf. Neil finds his silence as worrying as the stand-off Aaron and Debbie are locked in, each of them refusing to give in.
“Aaron, you’re so transparent.” Debbie’s taken his silence as proof of his guilt. “They don’t have to sleep in separate rooms just because you have old-fashioned notions about relationships.”
“I don’t have—” Aaron cuts himself off in frustration, sending her a warning look to drop it, but she’s relentless.
“We don’t sleep in separate rooms, do we?” she challenges.
That’s when Neil feels compelled to intervene, not just to save Aaron (who’d only been trying to make sure he and Shaun were comfortable), but also because Shaun shouldn’t feel pressured to accommodate where Debbie—or anyone—expects him to sleep. She’s trying to help, but the more she insists they share a room, the more Shaun might decide it’s something they have to do, even if he’s not personally in favor of it.
“Don’t be upset with Aaron,” Neil interrupts the tense silence between the older couple, and they both turn to him, chagrined at the reminder they have witnesses to their argument. Neil has no idea what Debbie might buy as an excuse for him and Shaun wanting separate rooms, so he goes with the first thing he can think of that sounds halfway believable. “Shaun and I often like our own space, so he was just reminding us that we can have our own rooms, if we want them.”
“…Yes,” Shaun faintly agrees, and something in his tone seems off, but Neil might be the only one to pick up on it. “We like our own space.”
“Exactly!” Aaron latches onto their unexpected help. “I want you both to be comfortable.” His next words are directed at Shaun. “One room, two rooms, it doesn’t matter to me. You could even sleep on one of the couches down here.”
Debbie wastes no time nixing that last suggestion. “No one is sleeping on a couch when there are four beds in this house.” Her irritation with Aaron has evaporated now that Neil and Shaun have come to his defense. “Aaron’s right that you two should sleep wherever you’re most comfortable, of course. I’m sorry that I keep overstepping. I thought he was being overprotective.”
“No one could blame you for thinking that,” Neil assures her, as Aaron mutters some complaint under his breath. “And please don’t apologize for stepping in. Sometimes Aaron needs a reminder about his behavior.”
“You’re one to talk,” Aaron grumbles, taking off his glasses again, this time so he can rub his eyes. “It’s getting late, so we should get you settled upstairs. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m ready to call it a night.”
Debbie voices her agreement and gathers their glasses, joking that she hopes she doesn’t get lost in the darkness as she navigates her way to the kitchen. It seems that any hope of the power coming back before bedtime has disappeared, but hopefully it will be restored at some point overnight. Neil checks the time, surprised to find that it’s past 10:30. He can’t believe how quickly the evening flew by when all they did was talk for most of it.
“I’m ready for bed, too.” Neil pushes his free hand through his hair, trying to break out of the stupor that set in after dinner. The warmth of the fireplace on one side, and Shaun on the other, hasn’t done much to keep him awake and alert, either. “What do you think, Murphy?”
“I’m tired,” the younger man agrees, stretching as he pulls away from Neil for the first time in the last half hour. He’s not looking at Neil, which is one of the biggest tells that something’s wrong—they’re always checking in with each other, silent glances here and there, behavior which has become second nature over the past few months. Shaun only avoids it when he’s trying to hide something from Neil.
Aaron stands up when Debbie returns, her phone lighting the way. “I have extra toothbrushes upstairs,” he offers, “and I’m sure I can find both of you some clothes to sleep in—actually, Shaun, you might have left some here from the last time you stayed over. Feel free to sleep in whichever room—or rooms—you want.”
Neil nods in thanks. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Shaun was about to stand, but Neil’s words stop him. Aaron reminds them to switch off the fireplace when they head up, then leaves with Debbie to go upstairs. The moment they’re gone, Shaun forgets that he’s been trying to avoid looking at Neil and asks worriedly, “Are you okay?”
Neil enjoys the warmth of knowing that Shaun’s first instinct is to check on him. “Not quite,” he admits, “but I will be once you tell me what’s bothering you.”
“You’ll be okay when I am okay,” Shaun translates, while Neil nods at him, because that sums it up perfectly. Shaun turns so his side is against the sofa cushions, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. He watches Neil without speaking for a while, and then he repeats something he’s said before. “No one is like you.”
“No one’s like you, either,” Neil promises, with a soft smile.
That response must somehow convince Shaun to share what’s troubling him. “It is…everything.” He rests his head against the cushion, giving away his weariness. “I have only slept here a few times, so I won’t be that comfortable. The weather is supposed to be terrible all night. I’m tired, but I am going to have trouble sleeping. If I do sleep, I expect to have nightmares because of the storms.”
“That sounds…overwhelming,” Neil murmurs, because Shaun had really meant it when he said ‘everything’—and Shaun didn’t even mention their long day at work or his anxiety over their evening with Aaron (not to mention the several minor clashes they’d had). Neil already hated the idea of Shaun being alone, but after hearing the bleak picture of what he expects tonight, the thought of leaving him is truly painful. Neil’s overcome by the need to make things better. “What would help?”
Shaun doesn’t have to think about his answer. “You.”
Neil had been hoping for something along those lines, but he’s more concerned with how somber Shaun looks—and the fact that he’s avoiding Neil’s eyes again. “Why do you seem upset about that?”
“I know you don’t want to,” Shaun answers, which leaves Neil even more confused. “It is fine.”
“I’m not following.” Neil slides down the couch a little, more into Shaun’s space. “What is it that you believe I don’t want to do?” Because Neil’s having a really hard time picturing anything he wouldn’t do for his resident, if Shaun only asked.
“I hoped we could share a room, but I know you don’t want to.” Shaun’s looking anywhere that isn’t in Neil’s direction. “I told you, it’s fine.”
“It is not fine, and it’s not true.” Neil’s replaying their conversation, trying to figure out where he went wrong. “Where did you get the idea that I wouldn’t want to share a room with you?”
“You agreed with Dr. Glassman when he suggested we sleep in different rooms.” Shaun sounds mildly accusing, which does nothing to mask the hurt underneath. “You said we like our own space.”
Realization dawns rapidly once Neil hears Shaun’s interpretation of what he said. “Murphy,” he begins gently, “you weren’t saying anything, so I figured you wanted your own room. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to share a room with me just because Debbie seemed to expect it, so I was trying to come up with any excuse I could find, and that was the first—admittedly terrible one—that came to mind.”
Shaun finally looks up at him, some of his unhappiness fading. “Then you would not mind if…we share a room?”
All the remaining tension leaves Neil in a rush, something in him settling at the knowledge that Shaun wants the exact same thing as him. “I will never mind sharing a room with you,” Neil promises. “I was actually hoping we could, because I can’t stand the thought of you struggling on your own tonight. If you hadn’t suggested it first, I was going to.”
A weight visibly lifts from Shaun after hearing that. “You were?”
“Yes, I was going to ask if you thought it might help.”
“You always help me,” Shaun insists, as if the alternative of Neil not helping him is impossible to imagine.
Neil takes that as his cue to force himself up and off the couch, a task which felt impossible mere minutes ago, but he’s found new incentive. “How about I help you to bed, then?” he asks, extending a hand to Shaun.
“I do not need help getting there,” Shaun protests, even as he slowly unfurls from his position and takes Neil’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. “You are the one who usually needs help getting to bed.”
“Is that an age joke?” Neil asks suspiciously, tugging on Shaun’s hand in warning. “Because I can push you right back onto the couch.”
“It is not a joke, it is a statement of fact. You would sleep on the couch half the time if I let you.” Shaun squeezes his hand, which must be a distraction, because the next thing he does is push Neil back onto the couch. Neil stares up at him in disbelief while Shaun takes out his phone to turn on the flashlight, backing towards the doorway all the while.
“Murphy.” Neil’s scolding really loses its effectiveness when he’s trying not to laugh. “Did you just push me?”
“You threatened to push me first,” Shaun points out, and the second Neil stands up again, his resident quickly vanishes through the doorway, likely heading for the stairs.
“Yeah, you better run!” Neil yells after him. “You’re going to pay for that, Murphy!”
“Are you boys fighting?” Debbie’s voice carries distantly from the second floor.
“It was all Neil,” he hears Shaun claim as he heads upstairs.
“Knock it off you two!” Aaron sounds even further away than Debbie. “It’s time for bed!”
After that, Neil can hear them talking upstairs, but not enough to make out what they’re saying. No doubt Shaun is blaming everything on him, but Neil doesn’t care. Not even a few minutes ago, he’d been dreading a night spent without Shaun, but now they’ll be together, and that’s enough for Neil to feel more at ease about…everything.
His resident had laid out every reason he expects to have a terrible night, and when Neil asked what would help, Shaun had given one simple answer that keeps echoing in Neil’s mind.
You.
Neil’s more determined than ever to prove him right.
Chapter 21
Notes:
Hello to everyone visiting this story, both new and old! I know it's been a long time since I was able to update this—unfortunately, this story took a back burner to some other things in my life, but I have always been committed to finishing it, even if it takes me some time. There should only be a few chapters left to wrap this up, and I know most of what's going to happen in them (with a lot written already), so I hope to be able to dedicate some real time to finishing it up this year.
I really want to thank everyone who has left encouraging comments, especially over the past year. I'm still here because of all of you. If this story had faded away and no one was interested in it anymore, my determination to finish would have faded, as well. Knowing people out there are still enjoying this and looking forward to more means everything to me, and it has kept this story at the top of my list to get back to. Returning to this world has reminded me just how much I love these characters, so I hope everyone still here with me enjoys the update, as well!
(As a mild warning, Shaun talks more about his abusive childhood in this chapter—nothing graphic, just sad.)
Thank you again for all of your love and kindness! <3 <3 <3
Chapter Text
After everyone abandons Neil to clean up the living room by himself, he folds the blankets, picks up the pillows from the floor, and turns off the fireplace before heading upstairs.
The storms are still raging outside and only sound louder from the second floor. Neil hopes the weather eases up soon to let them get some sleep, but even if it doesn’t, he takes comfort in the fact that he and Shaun will be together tonight.
At the top of the stairs is a landing that stretches into a good-sized alcove, with a seating area on one side and a desk on the other. Someone had propped their cell phone on the desk, with the flashlight on, to provide enough light to see the area with the power still out.
Neil can hear the others talking down the hall to his left, which is where Aaron’s master suite is located.
Looks like he’s taking a right.
Neil has been to Aaron’s house plenty of times, but only seen the upstairs once, back on his original tour after Aaron moved in. There’s never been another reason for him to be up here, but it fits with the hazy floorplan in his memory. At the far end of the house, to his right, are two large guest bedrooms connected by a shared bathroom. In the middle of the second floor is the bedroom Shaun has used in the past, a smaller version of Aaron’s master suite, complete with its own en suite bathroom.
The other half of the second floor is Aaron’s master suite, which consists of a bedroom, master bath, and full-sized office that connects to both his bedroom and the hall. There’s also a large balcony that overlooks his backyard. It’s quite the contrasting view to Neil’s in the city, but peaceful in an idyllic countryside type of way. (Neil honestly can’t say which he prefers—he loves his city views, but nothing could beat having a spacious yard, especially if he eventually has children.)
The house had been designed to give maximum privacy to each bedroom, with buffers of smaller rooms in between. Shaun’s bedroom is the closest to Aaron’s, but they’re separated by the office, laundry room, and alcove at the top of the stairs.
Neil’s just about to check out the guest rooms when Debbie and Shaun emerge from the master suite.
“There you are!” Debbie cries, as if Neil has been missing for a year. “What took you so long? We were about to search for you.”
“I was cleaning up the living room because someone…” he steps closer to Shaun, who immediately takes a step back, “…left me to do it by myself.”
“I was certain you could handle the task,” Shaun tells him, with another step away for good measure. “I’m sorry if it was too much for you.”
“Should have taken Neil’s age into account,” Aaron suggests, as he walks up behind Shaun and Debbie. “I have bad news and good news, Neil. The bad news is my washing machine stopped working two weeks ago and they’re waiting for a part to come in so they can fix it, which means the laundry has been piling up. I don’t have anything clean for you to sleep in.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a laundry service,” Neil jokes, and of course Aaron takes it seriously.
“I’ve tried a few, but none of them are up to my standards. I dry clean most of my work clothes, but everything else I prefer to wash at home.”
“What’s the good news?”
“I remembered I have some brand new things which should be comfortable for sleeping.” He motions for Neil to follow him over to a nearby linen closet, pulling out a closed box from the bottom shelf. “These are leftover clothing samples for the hospital gift shop. Vendors send them to me from time to time, usually when we’re updating our inventory. I think they should fit you.”
Neil takes the box from him, setting it on one of the armchairs in the alcove so he can open it. He’s not sure what he was expecting to find, but it definitely wasn’t the hideous assortment of brightly colored clothing inside. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Take your pick!” Aaron cheerfully offers. “You can keep anything you want.”
Neil takes out the top item, which is a magenta sweatshirt with their hospital’s name written in bright yellow script across the front. He recognizes it as one of the styles currently in the hospital gift shop, although those are more neutral colors like navy, black, and gray.
He holds the sweatshirt up higher—it’s a soft material, but that’s about all it has going for it. “Is this a joke?”
“Free of charge,” Aaron adds.
“That is a good deal,” Shaun remarks. “Those sell for $50 in the gift shop.”
“Yeah, for normal colors that won’t blind people.” Neil tosses the sweatshirt aside so he can pull out another one which is lime green with dark blue lettering. “Who thought these were a good idea?”
“I told you, they’re samples.” Aaron pulls out the next sweatshirt, which is light purple with pink writing. “I like this one, Neil.”
“Sure, it’d be great if I were a 10 year old girl.”
“I do not think 10 year old girls buy men’s large sweatshirts,” Shaun points out.
“There are matching sweatpants, too.” Aaron’s enjoying this way too much. “I think they were meant to be sold as a set.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Neil,” Debbie assures him. “You could pull off anything.”
Neil flashes her a grin while Aaron rolls his eyes. “Why thank you, Debbie.”
Shaun takes out some lime-colored sweatpants to hand to Neil. “This is the least offensive color combination. Unless you want the last set, which is orange with black writing?”
“Let’s save that for Halloween.” Neil’s trying not to sigh too loudly. “Lime it is.”
“You could always sleep naked,” Debbie suggests, as Aaron sends her a censuring look. “It’s just a suggestion! None of us would mind, Neil.”
“I’d mind!” Aaron exclaims.
“Good thing you’re not sharing a room with him, then.”
“I prefer to sleep wearing clothes,” Neil tells them, ignoring that this is one of the oddest conversations he’s had with his boss present. Not only does he not want to make Shaun uncomfortable while sharing a bed, but the more pressing issue is that —
“Neil gets cold,” Shaun explains, since Neil has told him that before. It’s become more of a problem lately, thanks to his restlessness. He often kicks off the covers in his sleep, and then he wakes up freezing—if he’s dressed, it’s a little more tolerable.
“So, it looks like I’m stuck with…” Neil waves the clothes at Aaron, who seems quite pleased with himself.
“You’re welcome.” Aaron’s tone is gratingly polite and Neil stares at him for a long few seconds.
“Thank you, Aaron.” Neil isn’t successful at keeping the sarcasm out of his tone, but at least he managed to say it, which will keep Shaun happy.
Shaun takes the green set of clothes so Neil can repack the box with everything he’s not going to wear and return it to the closet. (He pointedly ignores Aaron telling him to ‘feel free to take the entire box home with him’.) As soon as Neil shoves it back into place—hopefully to never be opened again—he spots two things on the top shelf that make him shake his head.
“We searched just about every cabinet, closet, and drawer on your first floor…” Neil turns around, holding up a battery-operated lantern. “And you had two of these in here the whole time?”
“Oh yeah, I got those a few years ago!” Aaron’s laughing as he comes over to take the second lantern and switch it on—unlike the batteries in his flashlights downstairs, both lanterns still work perfectly, giving off a glow that’s too bright until Shaun examines them and finds a switch on the bottom to adjust the brightness. “Completely forgot I had these—pretty useful, huh?”
“I have never been in that closet,” Shaun says, “or I would have remembered they were there.”
“We can each take one,” Debbie suggests, as she retrieves her cell phone from the desk and switches off the flashlight. “Now I don’t have to worry about my phone dying.”
Neil gestures with the lantern down the darkened hallway to their right. “Which room are we taking, Murphy?”
“The one I have slept in before,” Shaun replies. “I’ll be most comfortable there.”
“So you are sharing a room,” Aaron remarks, as Debbie lightly elbows him. “What! I didn’t mean anything by it,” he grumbles, exaggeratedly rubbing his side.
“We’ll let you get settled,” Debbie jumps in, thankfully before Shaun takes it upon himself to start justifying why he and Neil are going to sleep in the same room. “Every bathroom has new toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, and anything else you might need.”
“The cleaning service keeps them stocked for guests,” Aaron confirms. “Help yourself to all of it.”
“Don’t ever tell Morgan that,” Neil warns, “or she’ll invite herself to stay the night and clean you out.”
Shaun seems like he wants to defend her, but ultimately shakes his head. “She would do that.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Aaron says, sounding confused.
“Let us know if you need anything else,” Debbie adds, as the four of them wish each other goodnight.
Debbie, that saint of a woman, doesn’t give Aaron time to continue harassing them—she lightly nudges him back down the hallway leading to the master suite. Neil can’t hear what Aaron is saying, but the tone of his voice suggests he’s complaining about something or other to Debbie. (Better her than Neil.)
When Neil turns back around, Shaun is standing right inside the doorway to the nearest bedroom. Neil wonders if Shaun was waiting for him to bring the lantern, but he stops short when he comes up behind the younger man. Now it’s clear why his resident had frozen after opening the door.
The room is perfectly made-up as a guest room, right down to about twenty decorative throw pillows neatly arranged on top of the king-sized bed.
“No pillow was spared when they redecorated this house,” Neil laughs, as Shaun sighs.
“This is terrible,” his resident complains. “There is no room for people!”
“We can move the pillows,” Neil soothes, tapping Shaun’s arm as he walks by him. He sets the lantern on a nearby dresser so he can have a good look around the room.
Aside from the large bed off to one side, there are two armchairs, a bureau, a dresser, and two doors—one leading to a walk-in closet, the other leading to an en suite bathroom. This is the largest of the three guest bedrooms, but Shaun had chosen it in the past because it was the closest to Aaron’s, which made it the most convenient to help him while he was going through cancer treatments.
“This is more spacious than I thought.” Neil’s surprised at how large everything is in Aaron’s home—living outside the city really gets more square footage for the money. “This might be as big as your room at my place.”
Shaun hums without countering Neil’s description (which is a great sign for Neil’s covert plan to convince Shaun to move in before he realizes it’s happening). “This room is 12 square feet smaller.”
“I love that you know that.”
While Neil and Aaron’s homes both share similar high-end touches, Aaron has five times the space and pays less on his mortgage than Neil pays for his high-rise penthouse apartment. That’s definitely a bonus to suburban living, but the downside is a longer commute to work.
(Though there are neighborhoods similar to this which are closer to their hospital…)
Shaun hands Neil the lime green set of clothes, then goes over to the bureau to take out a long-sleeved shirt and pajama pants. “These are the only things I left here… We should bring more the next time we come over, in case of future situations like this.”
Neil has to admit he’s jealous that Shaun’s spare clothes are dark gray. He holds up the St. Bonaventure set, waving them enticingly at Shaun. “Trade ya, Murphy.”
“I would never wear those,” Shaun says, so matter of factly that Neil almost chokes on his laughter. “All the sample items were terrible.” Shaun quickly pulls his own clothes out of reach when Neil pretends he’s going to grab them. “I suspect they used a children’s color palette with their adult samples by accident.”
“That would actually make sense,” Neil admits, as Shaun looks at him like it should have been obvious. “That’s why Aaron shoved them in a closet, then tried to foist them off on me, no doubt.” He can’t keep the suspicion out of his tone the more he thinks about it. “I’m not sure if I believe his story about the washing machine, either. He probably has an entire closet full of clean clothes I could wear!”
“He would not lie to you,” Shaun insists, when Neil knows very well that he would. “Besides, it’s nicer to wear new clothes than someone else’s used items.”
Neil looks skeptically at the gift shop rejects. “Is it, though? Maybe I can just sleep in what I’m wearing.”
“You cannot,” Shaun informs him, sweeping his eyes over Neil’s sweater and dark khakis. “You would not be comfortable.”
Neil holds the sweatshirt up in front of himself. “Yeah, but it’d spare me the indignity of wearing this,” he complains, as Shaun simply shakes his head and heads to the en suite to get ready for bed.
It was probably a strategic exit on Shaun’s part, because left without anyone to complain to, Neil decides it’s time to be an adult and just wear the damn clothes. Shaun has a point that it’s better than being uncomfortable, and besides, it’s not like he has to suffer anyone else seeing him in them. (Except Shaun, but he doesn’t count because he’s seen Neil in much worse states than wearing poorly designed gift shop apparel.)
Much to Neil’s annoyance, after he changes…there’s nothing else to complain about. As gaudy as the clothes are, they fit perfectly and they’re warm enough that he’s not at risk of feeling cold if he throws off the blankets in his sleep, like usual.
While Neil waits for Shaun to finish up, he starts clearing the pillows off the bed (i.e., carelessly tossing them onto the floor near the wall). He’s only just finished and is pulling back the covers when Shaun emerges.
“Dr. Glassman buys all the wrong products,” Shaun’s saying, as he steps out of the en suite. “I will have to bring my own—” He stops speaking when his eyes land on Neil. “You look…colorful.”
Neil crosses his arms and tries to stare down his resident. “You’re the one who told me it wasn’t that bad.”
“I might have been wrong,” Shaun says, probably just to bait him, and takes over fixing the bed to his liking. “We’ll turn off the lantern when we go to bed—then it won’t matter how terrible they are.”
Neil rolls his eyes, but goes to get ready for bed. Contrary to Shaun, he has no issues with any of the products, but then again, he’s never been that particular. (If it works, it works, he likes to tell Shaun, who then proceeds to tell him why something ‘doesn’t work’.)
“There are twenty-four decorative pillows,” Shaun announces, the instant Neil returns to the bedroom. Shaun had moved them from the floor and stacked them along a built-in bench seat which runs under a large window. “That is twenty-four too many.”
“I think the decorators spent 50% of Aaron’s redesign budget on pillows,” Neil tells him, as Shaun frowns at the offending objects.
Shaun had closed the curtains over the windows while Neil was getting ready for bed, but occasional flashes of lightning are still visible behind them, with thunder in the distance. Neil checks his phone for a last minute weather forecast, but not much has changed. The tornado watch had been lifted a short time ago, but severe storms are expected for the rest of the night.
Neil studies his resident, checking him over as best he can in the limited lighting. There’s one important thing he has to know before they officially go to bed: “How are you doing, Shaun?”
“I’m okay.” Shaun’s climbing into bed. “I’m tired… I don’t know if I will be able to sleep that well, but I’d like to try.” He watches as Neil moves the lantern from the dresser over to Shaun’s nightstand. “How are you, Neil?”
“Well, I’ve certainly been dressed better—at every other moment of my life—but otherwise I’m fine. Mostly tired, like you. The storms are dying down a little, so let’s see if we can get some sleep.” Neil points at the lantern next to Shaun. “I’m leaving that with you so you can use it if you wake up and need some light. I’ll be fine without it—I can use my phone, if necessary.”
A few minutes later, they’re both under the covers on opposite sides of the bed. Once they’re settled, Shaun switches off the lantern—with the only light source in the room extinguished, reality sets in on just how dark everything is when there’s no natural light source. They’re only getting dim flashes of light from the storm outside, and against the backdrop of the steadily falling rain, it makes for an eerie atmosphere.
Neil holds his hand up above him, amazed that he can’t see it. This is probably the closest thing to blindness that a sighted person can experience, and it never fails to leave Neil feeling uneasy.
“You still okay?” he asks Shaun. “You can leave the lantern on low if it will help you feel better. I don’t mind.”
“I won’t be able to sleep with it on,” Shaun tells him, sounding too far away for Neil’s liking (what else is new). “I will be fine.”
Neil really hopes that’s the case, but he’s rightly concerned after everything Shaun admitted to him before they came upstairs—namely, all the reasons he’s expecting to have a difficult night. Neil is already running through a list of contingencies for how to salvage things if tonight takes a turn for the worse at any point.
“Do you want to come closer?” Neil asks, before he can second guess the offer, or talk himself out of making it.
Shaun had specifically asked if they could share a room in the hopes it would help him get through the night, and even more than that, Neil’s tired of holding himself back out of some notion that Shaun might not want his assistance. Everything he’s done with his resident over the past year (and even further back) has been welcomed and appreciated, so Neil hopes tonight will be more of the same.
“How close?” Shaun sounds like he’s already moved a few feet towards Neil in the bed. Neil turns his head in Shaun’s direction, but can’t see anything. The frequency of lightning has slowed considerably, but the rain is still pouring outside.
“As close as you want,” Neil offers, causing Shaun to slide over until he’s right at Neil’s side. He doesn’t stop there, carefully setting an arm over Neil, who’s lying on his back. It’s one of the ways they slept in the same bed in Las Vegas, proving Shaun’s comfortable initiating this kind of contact now, in certain situations.
“This close?” There’s the slightest hesitation in the younger man’s question, so Neil rubs his arm.
“Definitely works for me,” Neil assures him, as Shaun rearranges the blankets around them. “I like this a lot,” he adds, feeling Shaun breathe out at his side.
“Me, too.” Shaun taps his fingers on Neil’s chest, over his heart. “It’s easier to feel…calm with you.”
“I feel the same with you,” Neil admits (Shaun has saved Marcus from him over a dozen times in the past year, at least). “Why do you think that is?”
Shaun’s quiet for a minute before he says, “Support. We help each other when we need it.”
“Support…” Neil repeats, thinking about it. “I like that answer.”
“It’s true.”
“Yes, it is.” Neil sets his hand on top of Shaun’s, which has stopped tapping and is now resting on his chest. “How are you? Are you comfortable enough?”
“I’m good,” Shaun replies. “I like it here with you.”
“Let me know if you’re feeling cold or if anything else isn’t right.” Neil puts enough of an order into his tone to remind Shaun of how important that is. “We can get more blankets and there are also plenty of extra pillows if you need more…”
“That is not funny,” Shaun huffs, even as it sounds like he’s smiling.
“It’s a little funny,” Neil counters, squeezing his hand.
“Are you comfortable?” Shaun’s pulling lightly at Neil’s sweatshirt. “I have not heard you complain about this since you put it on.”
“It’s soft and warm, and as you pointed out, neither of us has to assault our eyes with the garish colors in the dark.” Neil sighs and shakes his head, even though Shaun can’t see it. “Unfortunately…there’s nothing left to complain about.”
“So…you are complaining about having no complaints.”
Neil has to laugh at Shaun’s accurate take. “Alright, you got me there.”
It feels like Shaun might be pinching the sweatshirt between his fingers. “I like this material. It’s warm, but not heavy.” He stretches and resettles closer to Neil. “Claire bought me the same sweatshirt in black and white.”
Now that he says it, Neil thinks he can remember Shaun wearing it on occasion. “The clothes in the gift shop are good quality and well-made, it’s the design I take issue with.”
“As long as you can sleep without discomfort, that is what matters.”
“No, Shaun, I also have to look good,” Neil says archly, as Shaun laughs. “Luckily, that’s easy for me—as Debbie kindly pointed out.”
“Yes,” Shaun’s tone is mild, “she has always been kind.”
Now Neil’s suspicious. “What are you trying to say?”
“That…she is kind?”
“Uh huh,” Neil tsks, “I’m onto you, Murphy.”
“I am agreeing with you about Debbie!” Despite Shaun’s indignation, it’s clear from his tone how much he enjoys riling Neil (and whenever Neil retaliates, Shaun claims innocence—neither of them will ever tire of this game).
“You are implying she only complimented me because she’s kind—we both know she complimented me because she has eyes.”
“You are an attractive person who knows you’re attractive.” Shaun might be shaking his head, going by the rustling of the pillow. “That is the most difficult kind.”
Neil bursts out laughing at Shaun’s conclusion. “I don’t see any reason to deny reality, Murphy.”
“You are proving my point.”
“Only because I know how much you love being right,” Neil claims. “So you’re welcome.”
Shaun’s laughing again, but it’s short-lived when thunder returns with a vengeance, causing them to jump in surprise. Neil tugs on Shaun’s arm, encouraging him to shift even closer, and Shaun doesn’t hesitate to do so. Even pressed right against Neil’s side, with Neil rubbing his arm, it takes Shaun a few minutes to relax again.
Neil inwardly curses the storms—he wishes the weather would give them a break, but there’s little hope of that based on the forecast.
“You okay?” Neil asks, recognizing the way Shaun has synced their breathing to help himself calm down.
“I’m as okay as I can be,” Shaun answers, honestly. “It’s easier with you. Like I knew it would be.”
“I’m very happy to hear that.” Neil’s relieved that his presence is helping—it was all he’d wanted from the moment Shaun asked him for this. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
“This is all I need,” Shaun insists. When the younger man inches closer, basically hugging Neil from the side, Neil decides that’s invitation enough, nudging Shaun down so he can wrap both arms around him and hug him back. (It’s meant to reassure Shaun, but it works just as well at making Neil feel better.)
They lie together quietly for a while, but the universe isn’t on their side tonight, since another band of storms is moving through, even stronger than the last round. Shaun gets tenser along with them, unable to relax much between the unpredictability and the overwhelming sensory input.
Neil knows he and Shaun have a steadying effect on each other—that’s never more apparent than during the stressful situations they’ve faced together at the hospital—so if Shaun’s still this bothered by the storms, Neil can only imagine how anxious the younger man would be if he were alone.
Neil feels cold at the thought of all the times Shaun has suffered on his own. His resident has spent many nights just like this one, all by himself, with no one to help him or offer comfort or simply be a stable presence in case Shaun needs it.
Neil never wants Shaun to feel alone like that again. It’s yet another reason he needs to convince the younger man to move in with him. Neil’s not ready to ask him yet—he’s still putting together his list of reasons to present to Shaun for why it makes sense—but tonight is bringing into sharp focus that it’s something Neil has to bring up sooner rather than later.
For now, since Neil can’t change the weather outside, he thinks the best way to help Shaun is with distraction.
“I think our dinner with Aaron went pretty well,” Neil says, as Shaun hums in agreement. “I know Debbie came over by accident, but in the end, I’m glad she was here.”
“Yes, the evening was enjoyable. I liked spending time with both of them. I hope Debbie joins us for future dinners.”
“I think she and Aaron are good for each other.” Neil’s remembering some of the older couple’s sweet interactions over the course of the evening. “He’s a lot happier than I can remember in a long time…in fact, I might never have seen him this happy.”
“He should be happy,” Shaun says softly. “He deserves that.” After a short pause he adds, “So does Debbie.”
“There’s a good chance they might have found it in each other.” Neil isn’t sure if it’s his imagination that Shaun presses more into him. “I also love that she calls him out on everything so I don’t have to.”
“She definitely enjoys that,” Shaun agrees. “He does, too, despite his complaints.”
That sounds familiar to Neil. “Did you notice who Debbie kept siding with tonight?”
“Yes,” Shaun sounds thoughtful, “she defended us several times. I did not expect her to do that.”
“I wondered how much influence she might have on Aaron—you know how stubborn he is—but I noticed a real difference with her here. I also think Aaron has come around on our relationship…somewhat.”
“He apologized for his past behavior.” Shaun tenses after another crash of thunder and Neil hugs him tighter. “I did not know some of the things he told us.”
“He was the main reason we were allowed to keep working together.” That crucial fact makes up for a lot of wrongs in Neil’s book. Keeping him and Shaun together might be the kindest gift Aaron has ever given them.
“I know he wants the best for us,” Shaun’s speaking slowly. “For me.”
“The problem is you sometimes disagree on what that is.”
“He can disagree all he wants,” Shaun says firmly. “He does not get to decide.”
“That’s the attitude I like to hear.” Neil’s all the more glad for it because Shaun taking complete ownership of his life has been something he and Aaron both struggled with in the past. “You make the choices for your own life, Shaun. Always.”
“Yes…except when it comes to wedding plans.” Shaun’s tone has lightened. “We have little say in that.”
Neil tries not to groan. “Don’t remind me.”
“It is your fault,” Shaun happily blames him, as if he hadn’t lobbied hard on Morgan’s behalf to get Neil to humor her. “Morgan has offered some good suggestions.”
“Debbie had no shortage of wedding ideas, either,” Neil sighs, because now he’s justified and on a roll. “The people we work with are obsessed with us, Shaun.”
“They love us.” It’s one of Shaun’s favorite excuses to justify their friends’ meddling. “They want us to be happy.”
“Good thing we are.”
“Yes, that’s a very good thing.” Shaun’s smiling now—Neil can hear it in his voice. “They want to be involved in our life.”
“Too involved, if you ask me.”
“They did not ask you,” Shaun rightly points out, causing Neil to grin. “Yet it does not stop you from continually offering your opinions.”
“Right, God forbid I have opinions on my own future wedding,” Neil gripes, having a lot of fun with his faux-complaints. “Judging by Debbie’s eagerness to marry us off, I guess Aaron was telling the truth that he didn’t tell her about our arrangement. Unless she figured it out on her own and decided to play along.”
“I did not find anything suspicious about her behavior. She seemed genuinely happy for us.”
“I was only wondering because of how much gossip she revealed about our co-workers.” It hadn’t been anything of a salacious nature, just things about people’s lives that Neil had never heard before. “Thanks to her job, she talks to people all over the hospital on a regular basis. I didn’t know half the stuff she mentioned—like Morgan and Park just got back from a weekend camping trip? How’d I miss that?”
“I do not know.” Shaun only sounds confused now. “They told us they were going away and then talked about the trip when they returned.”
“Where were we?”
“Having lunch in the cafeteria. Both times.”
It might be vaguely ringing a bell, but Neil’s residents drone on about a lot of things that he ignores for the sake of his sanity. “You know I love to tune out Reznick whenever she starts rambling about nothing…which is most of the time.”
“You love to tune out everyone.”
“Not you,” Neil counters.
“No, not me.” Shaun sounds quite pleased about that. “They had a good trip. They suggested we go camping, either alone or with them, and you were appalled by both suggestions.”
“Ohhh, that’s right!” Neil has to laugh as the memory resurfaces—Morgan’s question that day had drawn him back into a conversation he’d only been pretending to listen to, and he’d promptly shot her down. “Camping is not for me—especially not camping with my residents.” The only thing worse would be camping with Marcus. (Or Marcus and the residents…that horror doesn’t bear thinking about.)
“I do not want to go camping,” Shaun assures him. “Sleeping outside is not pleasant.”
Neil hates that Shaun knows that, not from choosing to do it, but from the time in his life when he and his brother were technically homeless.
“Then we’re agreed,” he tells Shaun, “no camping. Ever. Not even if Morgan tries to threaten us into it, which I’m sure she will at some point.”
“She would not threaten us,” Shaun tries to claim. “She might…badger us.”
“You mean annoy us. Just like she did with the wedding planning. And we gave in! We might have set a bad precedent.”
“…Maybe,” Shaun says, after a pause, which basically means Yes, they gave in, and good luck to them now.
“Speaking of Morgan, do you ever get the sense that she knows more about our relationship than she’s letting on?”
“She has not said anything to me.” Shaun’s surprised at Neil’s question. “What did she do to make you think that?”
“Nothing too obvious, but she’s made some odd comments.” There have been times when Neil could swear she was making a pointed reference to them… “I guess it’s possible I’m seeing things that aren’t there.”
“Maybe you are projecting your own knowledge onto other people?”
“Or maybe my residents have finally driven me over the edge…”
Shaun laughs at Neil’s teasing. “Aside from Morgan’s regular complaints about how happy we are, the only thing she talks about lately is our wedding.”
“She could be trying to trick us into admitting it.” Neil wonders if he’s becoming more paranoid with age (though can he ever be too paranoid when it comes to the residents?). “It’s her friendship with Park—or whatever you want to call it—that makes me suspicious. He’s too intuitive and observant. Not only is he teaching her, but he could have figured it out and told her.”
“He could have,” Shaun concedes, “but it does not matter what anyone knows about us. Their opinions do not affect our choices.”
“You’re right.” Neil feels himself relaxing, the way he always does when Shaun voices his continued commitment to their relationship. “You still doing okay? Sounds like the latest storm has moved on.”
“Yes, I’m feeling better.” The way Shaun’s tension has slowly dissolved while lying here with Neil is proving his claim. “You help…everything.”
Neil kisses the top of his head, feeling his throat ache at the earnestness of Shaun’s admission. Some of Neil’s worry about tonight is starting to fade—not all of it, but enough to breathe easier than when they first went to bed.
“You can ask for this whenever you need,” Neil whispers. “Whether you’re at my place or your own—I will gladly help you.”
“Yes, I know,” Shaun says, carefully, “but you would really…” He trails off, then tries again. “This would be fine with you? Sleeping in the same bed?”
“Of course it would.” Neil’s voice is firm, so there’s no mistaking his feelings on the matter. “Anytime you want, Shaun.”
“Okay.” Shaun’s quiet for another minute. “Thank you, Neil.”
Neil squeezes his wrist. “You’re welcome.”
“I liked sharing a room with you in Las Vegas,” Shaun reveals, “but tonight is better.”
“Hold on, this is better?” Neil’s having a hard time believing that. “When we were downstairs, you gave me a whole list of reasons you’re expecting a stressful night, so how could this possibly be better than Las Vegas?”
“You’re not sick.”
It takes a long moment of silence for Neil to realize that’s it—that’s Shaun’s only reason.
“You…” Neil shakes his head in disbelief and amazement, his chest feeling painfully tight. “Nothing else is a factor, only that I’m not sick?”
“Yes. It…bothers me when you aren’t well.” Shaun sighs, sounding resigned. “I tried to worry less, like you asked, but it was difficult.”
“I only wanted you to try,” Neil reminds him, “and I’m happy you did. I got better pretty quickly with you taking care of me, and I’ve been going to those doctor’s appointments you made for me. I had my physical last week and they said I’m in perfect health, remember?”
Shaun’s nodding against him. “Your lab results came back and everything is normal.”
“You know this…how?”
“I logged into your patient account.” That makes sense, since Shaun had been the one to set up Neil’s account (seeing as Neil never bothered to do it himself). “Your next appointment isn’t for another month. I will remind you when it gets closer.”
Neil’s first impulse is to complain (yet again) about all the routine scans Shaun had set up for him, but he suppresses it. He told Shaun he’d take better care of himself, and that’s what he plans to do—not only will it make Shaun feel a lot better, but it’s something Neil knows he shouldn’t have been neglecting the past few years. He’s hardly ancient, and he feels pretty good for his age, but he’s not 21 anymore.
It’s always been easy for Neil to find some excuse to avoid looking after himself—too many patients, not enough free time, he’s still young enough that everything’s probably fine—but Shaun’s right that he needs to do better. Neil wouldn’t accept those types of excuses from Shaun, so it’s not fair to ask Shaun to do the same for him.
Neil also thinks it’s more than fair to remind Shaun, not for the first time, that this is a two-way street.
“I understand why you were worried about me on our last trip.” Neil’s rubbing a hand over his back. “You know I feel the same way when you aren’t doing well. Do you remember what I told you downstairs, about us sleeping in the same room tonight?”
“You said it would help you.”
“I meant that, Shaun. I’d be struggling if we weren’t together because I’d be worrying about how you were doing on your own.” Which has been occupying Neil’s nights more and more lately…especially when Shaun’s back at his own apartment and Neil is at home with nothing but time to dwell on his concerns. “Knowing you’re okay—and that I’m able to help you if you’re not—that helps me. Probably as much as I’m helping you.”
“We’re good at that,” Shaun replies, sounding pretty happy about it.
“We are,” Neil agrees. “On that note, what do you think about trying to sleep? The storms don’t seem—”
A near-deafening crack of thunder right over them interrupts Neil’s sentence, so close that it shakes the house. Shaun tightens his hold on Neil like he needs something (someone) to hold onto.
“—that bad,” Neil dryly finishes, as Shaun breathes out shakily. Neil hugs him tighter, trying to convey that everything’s fine, despite the racing of his own heart from the adrenaline rush. “I should know better than to jinx things by now.”
“Jinxing is not real.” Shaun’s voice is as shaky as his breathing. “That was close. A storm cell must be directly over us.”
“Hopefully it moves quickly.” Neil runs his hand over the back of Shaun’s head. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Despite his claim, Shaun doesn’t sound that okay. “I hate thunderstorms.”
“Loud, unpredictable, uncontrollable… Hey, just like my residents.”
Shaun’s laughter is faint, but it’s there. “They do not scare me. They…unsettle me.”
“I know.” As much as Neil’s enjoying the way they’re lying together, he thinks something else might help more. He gently nudges Shaun to move over. “Here, let’s try something.”
“Okay…?” Shaun sounds mystified, but lets Neil do what he wants. Neil encourages him to roll over, switching their position so Shaun’s facing away from him and lying on his side. Neil lies down at his back, draping an arm over him and giving him an experimental hug from behind.
“How’s this?” Neil asks, causing Shaun to hum lowly in thought.
“It’s different,” he says, after a minute, “but I like it. Right now, it feels…better.”
“Then let’s stay this way for a while,” Neil suggests, as Shaun sighs his agreement.
Neil’s relieved that Shaun likes this—he doesn’t know how to explain to Shaun that sometimes he just wants to take care of him. In every possible way he can.
“I prefer to face you, though,” Shaun’s continuing to analyze this new situation and Neil can’t help but smile. “I like to see you.”
“Because I’m so attractive, right?”
“The most difficult kind,” Shaun archly reminds him, as Neil laughs loudly. “I like to see you because it’s easier to have a conversation when we can look at each other.”
“Neither of us is seeing much of anything right now,” Neil points out. “And we can still talk fine.”
“You are my favorite person to talk to,” Shaun says simply, as Neil feels that tightening around his heart again.
“Back at you, Murphy.”
“This works for now,” Shaun concludes, a hint of warning in it, “but I might want to move later.”
Neil can’t help laughing again. “You can move whenever you feel like it. All I want is for you to feel safe and comfortable.”
Now it’s Shaun who laughs. “I am always those things with you.”
“Good,” Neil keeps his voice low because if he speaks normally he’ll give away just how much that admission affects him. “I love you, remember? I need you to be okay, Shaun.”
“I’m okay.” Shaun sounds a lot more certain about that than he has all night. “I love you, too.”
That seems to be the unspoken permission they needed to arrange themselves exactly how they want, with Neil hugging Shaun even closer while his resident presses back into him in appreciation. Shaun slides down enough that his head is under Neil’s chin, which gives Neil room to breathe freely while also keeping the younger man as close as possible.
(Neil has a lot of excellent ideas, if he says so himself.)
Within a few minutes, Shaun has relaxed significantly—he’s still stressed by the weather, but his breathing is even and he’s not as tense as he was before. They lie together in easy silence for a while, listening to the latest round of thunderstorms slowly fade as they move through the area. More will be following soon enough, but for now there’s a reprieve where the only sound is muffled rain against the windows.
Neil’s starting to drift off (and thought Shaun was, too), but then his resident surprises him by speaking again.
“Thunderstorms remind me of when I was a child.”
Neil needs a moment to stir out of the haze brought on by his tiredness, the steady rain, and the sense of peace he’s feeling here with Shaun. “Did they bother you back then?”
“Yes. I hated the noise and the flashes of lightning. I used to hide in the closet and listen to music. I’m used to them now, but I still listen to music at home if I want to drown out the sound.”
Neil thinks back to his own childhood, dredging up memories he hadn’t touched upon in over three decades. “I remember getting in my parents’ bed when I was really young and afraid of storms.”
“We were not allowed to bother our parents at night,” Shaun reveals, “but I would go see Steve if it was bad enough.”
Neil tries not to think about how much he hates Shaun’s parents. “I’m glad he was there for you.”
“He was a good brother.” Shaun’s voice softens, the way it always does when he talks about Steve. “He tried to protect me. He got very angry when our father locked me outside during a thunderstorm.”
“Your father…did what?”
“We had left toys outside when it started to rain,” Shaun explains. “Steve wasn’t home and my mother was at work, so my father told me to get them. When I tried to get back inside, my father had locked the door. I sat outside under our deck until Steve came home.”
“During a thunderstorm,” Neil checks, because he’s feeling sick at the thought of it.
“Yes,” Shaun whispers. “It was…loud.”
“That’s horrible.” Every time Neil learns more about Shaun’s childhood, he’s left even more impressed that the younger man was able to get through it and become as successful and well-adjusted as he is. “I’m sorry you were treated that way, Shaun. You said Steve was angry, but what about your mother? Did she know about it?”
“Yes, she knew. He told her he fell asleep and didn’t hear me trying to get back inside. He often passed out from drinking, so he might have been telling the truth. She said it wasn’t his fault—it was mine and Steve’s for leaving our toys outside.”
Neil’s left wondering which one is worse: the actively abusive parent, or the parent who covers up, makes excuses, and enables it. “Whatever the truth—whether he locked you out intentionally or got drunk and forgot—that was wrong and it was child abuse. Your mother was wrong, too, for letting it continue.”
“I know.” Despite the awful story, Shaun’s not upset while retelling it—whether that’s because he’s come to terms with it, or because he’s telling it to Neil, Neil couldn’t say. “He had problems at work and drank to cope with them, but it made him lose his temper all the time. He and Steve would fight, or he and my mother would fight… It was shortly afterwards that he killed my rabbit and we ran away.”
“Your brother saved you.” Neil had suspected it before, but he’s never been more certain of it than he is right now. “You and Steve would have continued being his targets.” Shaun in particular, sickeningly enough.
“That is what Steve said. It wasn’t safe there anymore.”
Neil’s of the opinion that it hadn’t been safe there long before Shaun’s father killed his pet, but he just hums in response, running his hand up and down Shaun’s arm. It’s meant to soothe him, but it might be helping Neil more than Shaun—his barely suppressed rage is slowly evaporating while they lie here together.
That’s often the way it goes. Shaun has had so long to process the events of his childhood that he’s usually able to tell the stories without falling back into misery or anger every time. Neil, though…he’s learning about most of these things for the first time, and it never fails to upset him. (Shaun knows what it does to him, too—maybe that’s why he’s been spreading it out.)
“Do you know how much I love your brother?”
“You did not know Steve.” Shaun’s not accusing, merely confused.
“I feel like I did.” Neil’s painfully aware that Steve was the only person Shaun had for a long time—making his loss all the more devastating. “I know Steve through your memories of him and I’ve heard what a wonderful brother he was to you. A wonderful person, full stop. So yes, I love him. I love who he was to you.”
“I love him, too,” Shaun says, and Neil can tell that he’s smiling. “I always will. I told you, he was a good brother. Without him, I would not have met Dr. Glassman.”
“And I wouldn’t know you, either,” Neil finishes. (They’ve discussed this before and neither of them likes it.)
Shaun makes some unhappy noise at that, and apparently he’s not satisfied with the way they’re lying anymore, either, since he turns over and pushes Neil onto his back. Once Neil complies, Shaun makes himself comfortable hugging him, with his head on Neil’s chest. Neil hugs him right back, then helps Shaun rearrange the blankets over them.
“I knew people like you existed.” Shaun’s voice is barely audible, muffled somewhat by Neil’s shirt and the bedding wrapped around them. “Because of Steve, I knew there were people like you and our friends. I looked everywhere. You were…hard to find.”
“I’m sorry,” Neil whispers, to the top of his head. It’s always painful to be reminded of the difficulties Shaun had in making friends and finding a caring support system—Neil hates how alone Shaun has been for most of his life. “I wish it hadn’t been so difficult for you.”
“Aside from Steve, I was not born into a good family.” Shaun says it so matter of factly that Neil hurts everywhere. To the younger man, that was life. A terrible family was miserable, but also the luck of the draw. Since Shaun couldn’t change it, it was something to deal with—and once that became impossible, his family became something he had to separate from to survive. “It’s okay,” Shaun continues, pulling Neil from his thoughts, “I’m making a new one.”
“Yes, you are.” Neil thinks about the way Shaun has united everyone they work with, his reach expanding outwards in ever-widening circles. Shaun is at their center, his excitement and energy and the way he cares for everyone in his orbit just pulls them all closer. “I love being a part of it.”
“This is much better.”
“What is?”
“When people take care of each other.”
“Yes.” Neil tries to push back his emotions—he’d never expected his evening with Shaun would put him through such an emotional wringer. “It is.”
When Shaun falls silent again, Neil’s thoughts drift back over the years. His time before Shaun might as well have been an entirely different life. He knew many of the same people, yet they were no more than work colleagues—people he got along with fine in an O.R., but whom he otherwise barely knew. Or cared to know, to be quite honest. Keep personal and professional separate, and all that. Then Andrews had gone and assigned him Shaun Murphy and all of that changed. Shaun had upended his entire life, including the way Neil felt about it.
Because now? He sees those same people outside of work. They do things together. Shaun is actively campaigning for Neil to invite them over for a dinner party and he already knows in his heart he’s going to do it, even if he’s outwardly stuck in denial. These people, the very ones he barely nodded at in the halls two years ago, are now the same ones who have become his closest friends. He’s even had friendly conversations with Marcus about topics not strictly having to do with work. Marcus Andrews.
“Shaun…” Neil is adrift at sea, and he automatically holds onto Shaun tighter, his very own life preserver. (Because honestly, if Shaun ever abandons him out here, Neil is going to drown.) “What have you done to me?”
“You were lonely,” Shaun says, as if it’s an answer to the question.
Neil’s first instinct would be to deny it, but he knows, deep down…Shaun’s right. And maybe Neil wouldn’t have been able to admit it except for the fact that he’s not anymore.
“…How did you know that?”
“I could see it. I was lonely for most of my life. Even with other people, I often felt alone.” Neil can only shake his head in denial of the very idea, as Shaun continues, “I don’t feel that way anymore. Not with our friends, and never with you.”
Neil feels warm all over, which has nothing to do with their shared body heat. “Do you know how much that means for me to hear?”
“That’s why I told you,” Shaun reveals. “You like to know when you’ve helped me.”
“Yes, I do.” It means more coming from Shaun than from anyone else—whether that’s due to Shaun’s tragic background, or if it’s simply because of how much Neil loves him, he couldn’t say. But what he does know is that helping Shaun is a compulsion he might never escape (nor does he want to). “It makes me very happy, Shaun.”
“It makes me happy, too.”
“Good.” Neil breathes deeply, resting his hand on Shaun’s back. “I’m curious, though. You said you saw I was lonely…what did you see?”
“You worked longer shifts than you were scheduled and you volunteered to come in on your days off. You rarely spent time with anyone outside of work. You were always serious, sometimes quick to anger, and…you never seemed truly happy. Not about anything.”
“I was definitely miserable for a long time after Jess and I broke up.”
“That is true, though I first noticed those things when you were still together. We were not friends at the time, but Claire told me you and Jessica were…having problems. Before I was hired.”
“‘Having problems’ is a nice way of saying we fought all the time, even at work.” Neil thought he’d hidden it well from his co-workers, but apparently not. “We both knew things were falling apart. The end was inevitable, but neither of us wanted to face it, so we kept on with the wedding planning. As if playing the happily engaged couple would magically make things better.”
“It gave you practice,” Shaun says lightly. Before Neil can dwell too long on the fact that nothing about his ‘engagement’ to Shaun feels like pretend, the younger man asks, “Why did you allow us to become friends?”
The question surprises Neil…or maybe it’s the way Shaun phrased it.
“I didn’t allow anything,” Neil counters. “It just…happened.”
“But it didn’t happen with anyone else. You did not let the other residents close to you.” Shaun only sounds curious now. “You became friends with them after we became friends. I remember that Jared tried—”
“Please don’t remind me of his constant harassment.”
“Morgan also tried.”
“Morgan wanted to ingratiate herself with me to gain favors,” Neil corrects, since they both know the Morgan of today (while just as infuriating at times) is not the Morgan who’d initially transferred to their team.
“Claire tried,” Shaun continues. “Even Alex sometimes tried. You kept your distance from everyone before we became friends.”
“It’s part of my job as an attending to set clear boundaries with my residents,” Neil explains, though he has to admit it’s gotten much harder than it used to be. (He’s still on the fence about whether that’s a good thing or not.)
“You did not set boundaries with me.” Shaun sounds like he’s working it out in his own mind. “You never limited our time with each other.”
Neil breathes out slowly. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” Shaun persists.
“I…didn’t want to,” Neil tells him, but even as he says it, he knows Shaun deserves a better answer. “I liked you too much, right from the beginning—even when we didn’t get along. Pushing you away when you wanted to spend time with me? I could never have done that.” The thought of it is as impossible now as it was back then, over a year ago. “To anyone else, yes, but not to you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Neil smiles into the top of Shaun’s head. It was the best decision he’d ever made. “I’m glad, too.”
The idea of putting distance between himself and Shaun had hurt too much, even if it took Neil a long time to understand why. It was like some part of him knew that pushing Shaun away before they had a chance to connect would be the worst mistake of his life.
Shaun’s right that Neil had been alone (had been lonely), but Neil hadn’t realized what he was missing until the day Shaun quite literally walked into his life as if he belonged there. (Maybe, just like Neil, Shaun had known that he did.)
Can that really happen to people? Can they know something before it comes into existence? If so, Neil thinks it happened to them.
While Neil’s contemplating the vagaries of destiny and fate, Shaun slides off him. Neil thinks he might be getting up, or even returning to his side of the bed, but he’s proven wrong when Shaun stays pressed against his side with an arm over him. It’s the way they’d originally settled when Neil invited him closer after they first got into bed.
“Went through every position just to end up back here?” Neil teases, tapping his arm.
“This will be the most comfortable for us to sleep.” Shaun’s sounding a lot more tired all of a sudden, reminding Neil of their incredibly long day. “It’s nice here with you.”
“In a guest bedroom at Aaron’s house, with no power, and the terrible weather outside…”
“It’s nice wherever we are together,” Shaun says firmly, though his voice is getting fainter.
We could be together all the time if you moved in with me, Neil thinks. It’s next on his agenda, but not tonight.
“Everything’s better when we’re together,” Neil tells him, instead.
“Yes,” Shaun sighs, “it is.”
It’s a sentiment they’ve often repeated, but tonight it’s more true than ever—they would both be miserable if they weren’t with each other, there’s no question about it.
“We can have this whenever you want,” Neil reminds him, because he can’t emphasize that too much. “All you have to do is tell me.”
“Okay…” Shaun sounds hesitant. “You want this too, right?”
“Of course I do.” Neil turns his head, frowning a little, but they can’t see each other in the darkness. “Why would you doubt that?”
“I didn’t know if you were offering because…you know I like this.”
“That’s part of it,” Neil admits, “but I enjoy this as much as you. I love to spend time with you and I will always want more of it. Do you realize the profound effect you have on me, Shaun?”
“…Profound?”
“With you, I’m more centered and focused. Calmer and relaxed. Less stressed and less bothered by the many annoyances in my life… You’re always helping me and encouraging me to look after myself. You are good for me, Shaun.”
Shaun doesn’t say anything for long enough that Neil feels compelled to keep going.
“Those reasons are a lot different than the ones I gave you earlier—about wanting to make sure you’re okay when you’re struggling on a night like this—but they’re equally as true and important.”
When Shaun still doesn’t speak, Neil lets the silence stretch between them, giving Shaun time to think about everything he said. It’s several minutes before Shaun finally asks, “I help you…as much as you help me?”
“Yes. Probably a lot more, to be honest.”
“Then we are good for each other,” Shaun stresses, as Neil smiles and sets his hand on Shaun’s, which has been resting over his heart this whole time. “You are the most important person in my life, Neil. You have been for a long time.”
“I feel the same way about you,” Neil promises. “It’s a good thing we’re engaged, hmm?”
Shaun laughs at their inside joke (which maybe isn’t much of a joke, anymore). “Yes, it is.”
Neil stifles a yawn, realizing that he hasn’t heard the storms for a while. It’s still raining, but the thunder has moved on for now—and when he grabs his phone from the bedside table to check the time, he’s shocked to find it’s almost midnight.
“It’s going to be tomorrow in eight minutes,” he informs Shaun. “We spent a lot longer talking than I thought.”
“I enjoy talking to you.”
“Who doesn’t?” Neil jokes, as Shaun sighs with amusement. “This is a nice way to unwind from the day.” (Neil would be fine doing this for the rest of his life.) “Since the storms have quieted, do you want to try and get some sleep?”
“Yes, we both should.” Shaun pauses before adding, “I might have a restless night, or nightmares. I’m sorry if I wake you.”
“You never have to worry about that,” Neil promises. “I want to help you and I’ll be here if you need me.”
“You always are.”
They fall asleep soon after that, both of them finding it a lot easier than when they’re alone. Despite Shaun’s worry, he ends up having a more peaceful night than he expected. He’s spared from any nightmares and only wakes up twice, along with Neil, due to thunder passing through. Neil’s reassurance that he’s still there and everything’s fine allows Shaun to fall back asleep quickly each time.
Thanks to how late they stayed up, and their sleep-deprivation from the previous day, they end up sleeping in the next morning—Neil’s not sure of the exact time, but based on the light coming in around the curtains, the sun is well up in the sky.
Rather than separating in their sleep, they’d stayed right with each other (it happens while awake, so it makes sense it’d happen while asleep, too). Neil opens his eyes to confirm what he’d already figured out: Shaun is sprawled on his back and Neil is lying next to him with an arm slung across his chest. The younger man’s eyes are shut, but Neil can tell from his breathing that he’s awake.
“We made it through the night,” Neil murmurs. He should probably let go of Shaun but…he’s in no hurry.
“I had no doubt,” Shaun replies, without opening his eyes or moving. Neil tightens his arm around him, in a sort-of hug (as best they can get with the way they’re lying) and Shaun smiles before he turns his head to look at Neil.
Neil thinks that’s the answer to his next question, but he still asks, “Doing okay this morning?”
“Yes. I woke up before you, but I did not feel like moving.” He manages to tilt his head, even with it lying on the pillow. “That never happens to me.”
“It’s comfortable here,” Neil points out. (Look at how fast he’s not moving.) “But we should get ready for the day and not impose too long on Aaron and Debbie.” When he checks his phone, he’s surprised to find it’s already past 9 in the morning—usually he wakes up well before that, even on his days off. “It’s 9:07, so they’ve probably been up for a while.”
Shaun hums agreeably and Neil leans in to kiss his temple before he sits up—then wonders if that was a strange thing to do. It felt so natural that he’d done it without thinking…
But Shaun’s just smiling at him, so if the younger man isn’t going to react poorly, Neil’s certainly not going to—he smiles back and waves at the en suite. “You take this bathroom to shower, I’ll use the one down the hall.”
“Okay,” Shaun says as he sits up, still smiling. “Good morning, Neil.”
“We skipped that, didn’t we?” Neil laughs. “Good morning, Shaun.”
After Shaun disappears into the en suite, Neil heads for the other bathroom, trying not to overthink what just happened… Is he acting too much like they’re a real couple? Is that even possible if Shaun never reacts negatively to anything he does?
Neil wonders if it might be a sign that Shaun is more open to the idea of this turning real—but any suggestion of that has to come from Shaun. It’s not that Neil doesn’t want to do it, it’s that he can’t. Nothing in him can tolerate putting Shaun in a position the younger man might perceive as uncomfortable—it could ruin their close friendship or cause him to lose Shaun altogether.
Many of the points Aaron made yesterday hold even more true in the light of morning. Neil is older than Shaun, he’s his boss and mentor, Shaun looks up to him and cares for him deeply—he’d made that clear last night.
He’s the most important person in Shaun’s life.
That fact makes Neil feel like he’s glowing from the inside out, but it also solidifies the importance of never using any of that influence against Shaun.
Considering the way their relationship has evolved over the past eight months—and especially after their talk in Las Vegas—Neil is certain that if Shaun has romantic feelings for him, he’ll act on them in his own time. Until then, Neil will happily play into their engagement as much as Shaun wants to—which helps quiet the growing desire he has to officially make Shaun his in the best possible way: marry him for real.
After his shower, Neil reluctantly puts the lime green clothes back on—they’re as comfortable as they were last night and he’s not ready to wear his khakis just yet (it’s the weekend, he shouldn’t have to wear real clothes if he’s not heading out into the world, and no amount of arguing from Shaun will get him to change his mind on that).
When he returns to the bedroom, Shaun is lying on his back and scrolling through his phone, which is propped on a pillow on his chest (one of the few approved uses for throw pillows, according to his resident). Shaun had the same idea as Neil after his shower and had put on his pajamas from last night instead of the clothes he wore to Aaron’s.
Neil checks his phone to find it’s not even 9:30 yet, and the bed is so inviting that he wants to get right back in it with Shaun—so instead of making excuses for why he shouldn’t, he just does it. Not only that, but when Shaun sets the phone and pillow aside to give Neil his full attention, Neil slides over and sets his arm back over him.
Shaun’s smile might be as bright as the clothes Neil’s wearing (if that’s possible—in the light of day they’re practically neon).
“Didn’t feel like going downstairs?” Neil asks, as Shaun shakes his head.
“Not yet. I’m still tired and the bed looked comfortable.”
“Do you want to try and get more sleep?”
“No.” Shaun pauses thoughtfully. “I might take a nap later today.”
“Careful,” Neil playfully warns, “planning the next time you sleep before you even get up for the day is a dangerous sign of aging, Murphy.”
“You would know,” Shaun agrees, “being so much older than me.”
“My most humorous resident,” Neil sighs, as Shaun poorly hides how much he’s amusing himself. “Someday you’ll be where I am.”
“How old will you be?”
“Let’s not get into specifics…”
“57,” Shaun answers, specifically (and correctly).
“God, I might not get out of bed at all by then.”
“Yes you will,” Shaun says breezily, “but only if you take care of yourself.”
“Had to get that in there?”
“Yes.” Shaun’s so unapologetic that Neil laughs. “Did you want to sleep more? I can leave you alone, if you prefer.”
“When do I ever prefer that?” Neil points out. “I wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep right now if I tried. I’m not in any hurry to get up, but we shouldn’t linger too long. I don’t want to interrupt whatever Aaron and Debbie have planned for the day.”
“They’re going to dinner with Debbie’s niece and her wife tonight,” Shaun reminds him.
“Oh right, we should escape before they invite us along. Or try to rope us into their errands for the day.”
“I told Dr. Glassman the next weekend we both have off, I’m going to help him put together his disaster-preparedness kit.” That’s a rough translation of Aaron telling Shaun that without his help, it would never get done. “Yours is also due for its annual battery update.”
“I…didn’t know that was a thing people did.”
“You will thank me if there is an earthquake. Or your building catches on fire. Or a meteor hits us—”
“Hold on, that doesn’t happen in real life!” Neil protests. “Almost two decades as a doctor and I haven’t treated a single meteor-strike victim.” It’s also sounding too familiar to Neil. “Suspiciously, there was a meteor storm on that episode of 9-1-1 you were watching last week…” (Of all the medical shows Shaun watches to critique, that one is the most outrageous, in Neil’s opinion.)
“We know of one proven instance when a person was hit by a meteorite, in 1954,” Shaun happily lectures him. “So it can happen. Luckily for the woman, she lived with only a bruise for an injury, but it could happen to anyone.” He levels Neil with a warning look. “The next victim could be you.”
“In that case, the brand new batteries in my disaster kit will definitely save me.”
Shaun opens his mouth, then closes it again, silently acknowledging Neil’s point. “I will check the expiration dates of the medicine in your first aid kits, as well.”
“Yup, Tylenol and Neosporin will do the trick. To save me. From a meteor.”
“It will help the next time you injure yourself,” Shaun says archly, enjoying their ‘argument’ as much as Neil.
“I know, I know,” Neil relents. “And having working flashlights would be better in a power outage. We don’t want to turn into Aaron, stuck using candles or lighting a fire.”
“…Your fireplace is electric.”
“No, I’m going to set these clothes on fire,” Neil says, as his resident laughs in surprise. He waves his green-clad arm in front of Shaun’s face for dramatic effect. “Look at this color! It’s worse in the light.”
“Yet you put them back on after your shower.”
“I didn’t want to wear regular clothes yet,” Neil might be whining.
“No setting fires,” Shaun says sternly, like Neil would really do it. “It’s dangerous.”
“But it’d be so satisfying…”
Their bickering continues for a while longer, until they agree to head downstairs. It’s after 10 by that point, but Neil figures if Aaron really wanted them gone, he could have knocked on their door or texted them.
Not that the older man is going to make their morning easy, by any means (Neil had already figured that much).
“Look who finally got up!” Aaron announces, as soon as they walk into the kitchen. He and Debbie are seated at the breakfast nook under a window which is letting in plenty of late morning sunlight. “Deb, have you seen my sunglasses? I can’t look directly at Melendez.”
“Between you and Shaun,” Neil gripes, “I can’t win. Quick, Deb, save me with a compliment.”
“No one could miss you in that outfit?” she at least tries.
“As much as we want to,” Aaron smirks, like he didn’t give the clothes to Neil on purpose. “Help yourself to anything you can find,” he adds, waving at the fridge. “Deb and I already ate. I just made that coffee for our second morning cup.”
“Was your night okay?” Debbie’s worried as she looks between Shaun and Neil. “We thought we heard you get up a while ago, but we tried to be quiet in case you wanted to go back to bed.”
“Our night was fine,” Neil tells her, while he pours himself some coffee—he feels more well-rested than usual (thanks to Shaun) but he’ll never pass up coffee in the mornings. “A lot better than we expected, actually.”
“How was yours?” Shaun asks them, as he gets some juice from the fridge.
“We woke up a few times from the thunder,” Debbie replies, “but otherwise, it wasn’t too bad.”
“Thunder woke us, too,” Shaun admits. “That was difficult,” he smiles over at Neil, “but it was a good night, overall.”
Neil waits for Aaron to make one of his usual comments in response to that, but the older man just shakes his head with a faintly amused smile of his own.
“The night could definitely have been worse,” Neil sort of agrees with Shaun (he would have preferred zero storms and the younger man being completely at ease, but they’d dealt with things the best they could). “At least we weren’t carried away by a tornado.”
“Still not funny,” Shaun chastises, as he gathers ingredients to make pancakes while helping himself to an apple from Aaron’s fridge to start.
“I hope you don’t mind that we took our time this morning,” Neil tells Aaron and Debbie, as he searches around for the sugar. He doesn’t have any luck until Shaun directs him to a canister hidden away in an ‘appliance garage’ on the counter (who even knew such things existed? Neil certainly didn’t, but he wouldn’t be surprised if one randomly showed up in his kitchen one day). “We can get going soon if you have things to do.”
“Not at all, take your time,” Aaron offers. “Shaun is welcome here whenever he wants—which I suppose means you’re welcome too, Neil.”
“What a sweet offer,” Neil says dryly, giving Shaun a warm smile when the younger man gives him cream from the fridge. “I take it to mean that if I showed up without Shaun, that offer is rescinded?”
“He would let you in,” Shaun says, peering around Neil to look over at Aaron in warning.
“Of course I would.” Aaron’s holding up his hands in surrender. “As long as Neil brings another bottle of my favorite wine.”
Neil waves his coffee mug at Aaron. “You said we didn’t have to bring you gifts!”
“Shaun doesn’t,” Aaron clarifies, “but if it’s just you…then yes, I want something.”
“Debbie, Shaun,” Neil makes sure he has their full attention, “imagine, if you will, allllllll my years of residency with this man.”
“Yes,” Shaun says, without expression. “…Imagine.”
Neil narrows his eyes at his own resident. “You better not be implying that I’m as annoying as Aaron.”
“I’m right here,” Aaron complains, as everyone ignores him.
“I’m not implying anything,” Shaun says with a shrug, setting a mixing bowl on the counter. “You are inferring it on your own.”
Neil figures he’s in a losing battle by this point, so when Debbie goes over to help Shaun with the pancakes, Neil takes her spot at the breakfast nook across from Aaron. The older man’s about to speak, but Neil stares hard at him over his coffee.
“Not another word about the clothes—which are your fault, by the way.”
Aaron’s eyes are laughing at Neil’s predicament. “I’m sure I can find plenty of other ways to make fun of you, Neil.”
“Be nice,” Shaun scolds, at the same time Debbie sharply says Aaron’s name.
The older man rolls his eyes now that it’s Neil’s turn to smirk at him.
“Yeah, Aaron,” Neil says smugly, “be nice. They’re both on my side.”
”You be nice, too.” Shaun is looking right at Neil. “Kindness goes both ways.”
Neil can’t believe this. “I didn’t do anything!”
Shaun isn’t fooled. “You know what you are doing.”
“Yeah, Neil,” Aaron mimics Neil’s smug tone from a moment earlier, “you know what you’re doing.”
“Aaron and Neil.” Debbie is pointing a spatula at them in wordless threat. “Do I need to come over there?”
“No,” they both mutter sullenly. Debbie stares at them for a long moment while Shaun shakes his head behind her.
Once she and Shaun get back to discussing the best type of pancakes, Aaron frowns across the table at Neil, though it’s more lighthearted than anything else. “Good job getting us in trouble.”
“I think you helped with that,” Neil points out.
Aaron lowers his voice, casting a surreptitious glance at his girlfriend. “Deb is scary when she’s mad.”
“She has great hearing, too,” Debbie calls, causing Neil to laugh while Aaron groans into his mug of coffee.
“If you think she’s tough,” Neil says, “you should try skipping a doctor’s appointment and letting Shaun find out about it…”
“Believe me, I’ve experienced that wrath firsthand,” Aaron says ruefully, his affection for Shaun unmistakable.
“You need to take care of yourselves,” Shaun tells them, proving his hearing is as good as Debbie’s.
“They’re going to,” Debbie agrees, with terrifying finality.
Aaron leans forward, making sure to whisper, “I don’t know if I like them ganging up on us.”
“This is my life every day.” Neil isn’t feeling too much sympathy since he has to deal with it regularly from his residents (and he has a feeling Debbie is going to feel a lot more comfortable piling on as they go forward). “Try switching places with me for an hour—it’s like herding cats for all that my residents listen to me and do what I want.”
“You don’t say…” Aaron sounds as (un)sympathetic as Neil. “Remember how you just brought up your own residency in a bid for sympathy? What goes around, comes around.”
Neil hates how much of a point the older man has, so he ignores it (which is usually the easiest solution). Their conversation switches back to work, namely their upcoming fundraiser, while Shaun and Debbie finish cooking. Neil fills Aaron in on the latest planning committee meetings, which then segues into telling him why he agreed to join in the first place, since Aaron wasn’t aware of the reasons behind it. Aaron is definitely impressed when Neil explains that he’d done it for Shaun—the older man doesn’t say it, but his contemplative manner as he studies Neil speaks volumes.
Even though they already ate, Aaron and Debbie try some pancakes while Neil and Shaun enjoy a leisurely breakfast. The four of them choose a date for their next tentative dinner and Aaron also arranges a time with Shaun to put together that disaster kit the younger man insists upon. Neil good-naturedly complains about having to participate, but they all know he wouldn’t have it any other way.
By the time Neil and Shaun decide they should get going, it’s almost noontime. Shaun spends a few minutes searching for the ‘most optimal’ spot for the cactus he brought Aaron (settling on some open shelving in the kitchen where it will get the appropriate amount of indirect sunlight) and reminds the older man no less than five times that no one is allowed to touch it. Neil and Shaun head upstairs to change back into their clothes from yesterday and (attempt to) leave the room as they found it—though from Shaun’s disdain while he arranges the pillows back on the bed, it’s clear he’d rather burn them.
“All things considered,” Neil begins, as he helps his annoyed resident with the pillows, “this visit went a lot better than we expected.”
That gets Shaun to smile across the bed at him. “It did.” He fixes one of the pillows Neil hadn’t placed to his satisfaction. “I’m looking forward to the next one.”
“Me, too. I might even be convinced to stay over again—as long as I don’t have to wear anything Aaron gives me.”
Neil had thrown the gift shop clothes into the laundry for the cleaning service to deal with—hopefully they’re never seen again, but he has a feeling they’ll be cleaned, folded, and put back in the bureau for the next time Neil comes over. (It’s the kind of thing Aaron would find hilarious, even if Neil refused to wear them again—the reminder of his suffering would be enough.)
“I will pack several sets of clothes for you to leave here.” Shaun finishes his side of the bed, coming around to help straighten Neil’s side so it’s up to his standards. After he’s done, he turns to face Neil. “Thank you for last night.”
“You already thanked me,” Neil gently reminds him.
“I know…but without you here, it would have been…” Shaun briefly shuts his eyes, shaking his head, and doesn’t finish the sentence. “People often try to help me with things I don’t need. No one has ever helped me like you.”
Neil has only one response to that. “I love you.”
Shaun surprises him by stepping forward and hugging him, tightly enough that Neil can sense the desperation in it—his resident is getting emotional, which never fails to bring out the same in Neil.
“I love you,” Shaun whispers, taking a shaky breath when Neil hugs him back. “Not just for this.”
“I know.” Neil holds onto him for a long minute, letting Shaun have as much time as he needs. When they finally let go of each other, Neil reminds him, “I meant what I told you last night. Anytime you need this—or anything—all you have to do is tell me.”
Shaun’s nodding slowly, starting to smile again. “I will.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” Neil does a last minute visual sweep of the room to make sure they haven’t forgotten anything. “Ready to leave?”
“Yes.” Shaun’s doing the same check of the room as Neil (and probably a lot more thoroughly, too).
“My place or yours?” They’ve already made plans for the weekend, but Neil still wants to double check in case Shaun needs to stop by his apartment.
Shaun hesitates for a moment, then shakes it off. “Yours.”
Neil nods and motions for Shaun to leave the room, flipping off the light and shutting the door behind them.
One day soon, Neil hopes the home they return to belongs to both of them—but for now, he’s going to enjoy spending the rest of the weekend with his best friend.
Chapter 22
Notes:
Hello, I'm so happy to be back with an update! This is not the end - there will be one more chapter to wrap things up.
I said much of this in my last update, but it's more true than ever that everyone still here is the reason I am still here and committed to this story. It felt like every time I got stuck or discouraged, I would receive a kind comment from a new or old reader, saying they enjoyed this story and hoped I would return. Thank you to those of you who reached out over all these years.
My plan is to officially finish with a much lighter chapter, hopefully by the summer when my schedule will let up significantly. Until then, I hope everyone enjoys this update, which puts to rest the last important issue Neil and Shaun struggled with (aside from outright admitting their feelings). There's a fair bit of angst in this one, but it's resolved by the end of the chapter, setting them up for an official ending.
If you've made it through my probably too long note, I hope you enjoy this update, and rest assured that I'm dedicated to finishing this story in a way the characters deserve. I appreciate each and every reader I've had, or will ever have, on this story, and I never take your kindness or encouragement for granted. ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Chapter Text
It feels like Shaun is slipping away from him.
That persistent, terrible thought has been circling Neil’s mind for almost three weeks now.
(18 days, to be precise.)
That’s why he’s pacing the hallway outside Shaun’s apartment on a random Thursday evening, trying to convince himself to follow through and knock. If he doesn’t make a decision soon, one way or another, Shaun’s neighbors might call the police on him.
The reason Neil’s here is a little more complicated than just dropping by—over the past few weeks, a new and unexplainable distance has developed between him and Shaun. The younger man has been avoiding all attempts to spend time together (or talk about what’s going on), so Neil finally decided to stop by his apartment after work.
Mostly, Neil couldn’t stand the thought of yet another night spent home alone, endlessly worrying about Shaun.
Things had changed shortly after their dinner with Aaron and Debbie—a dinner which went surprisingly well, all things considered. Yes, it had been difficult to deal with the storms, but it ended up giving them more time together. It felt like they’d all reconnected in a way that had been lacking for some time, and they’d committed to try and keep up regular communication going forward.
After the Friday dinner, Neil and Shaun had spent the rest of that weekend together, as they’ve been doing more often over the past year. They’d gone to a fine arts museum, tried a new Italian restaurant on Park’s recommendation, and gone shopping with Aaron (read: dragged the older man along) to pick up supplies on Shaun’s disaster-preparedness checklist. In between all that, Shaun had stayed at Neil’s apartment without returning home once. They were completely in sync, enjoying each other’s company in a way that felt effortless and comfortable and…right.
Neil swore he felt a change in the air between them, like their necessity to each other was becoming more clear. Either they weren’t able to deny it anymore, or they no longer wanted to. It had cemented Neil’s belief that they’d both be happiest if they lived together.
Neil had spent part of that same weekend working on his list of reasons to help convince Shaun to move in with him. In fact, he’d just completed it to his satisfaction when something changed. After they went back to work the following week, Shaun had become noticeably absent.
Oh sure, he’s still at the hospital for every shift he’s scheduled, showing up early like clockwork. But when it comes to Neil, Shaun is, for lack of a better word…missing.
When Neil suggests spending time together after work, or on their days off, Shaun always has some reason why he can’t. He has things to do, or plans with someone else, or he just wants time alone. Even when they’re both at work for the exact same shifts, Shaun keeps finding excuses to be away from Neil.
For the first few days, Neil tried to shrug it off—if Shaun wants space, he’s perfectly entitled to it, just like everyone else. (It’s been a long time since either of them wanted space from each other, but that might only mean Shaun’s long overdue for it.)
However, much to Neil’s consternation, one day stretched into two and then three and then four and now they’re closing in on three weeks where Neil’s barely seen his resident, except when they’re forced together for a meeting or Neil tracks him down to talk about a patient.
The space Shaun started wanting 18 days ago has stayed between them and Neil’s worried it might become permanent if nothing changes. Shaun’s clearly avoiding him and Neil’s praying it’s not due to one of his worst fears: that Shaun might want to end their arrangement.
It would explain everything, from Shaun’s distance to his reluctance to talk to Neil about it. Maybe their pretend ‘engagement’ has run its course for Shaun. Maybe it’s too suffocating, or exhausting, or maybe he just doesn’t want to bother keeping up the charade anymore. (Shaun hasn’t mentioned anything like that, but then again, he hasn’t mentioned much to Neil in weeks.)
Normally, Neil’s fine with giving Shaun as much time as he needs, but that was before 18 days of radio silence during which Neil has slowly been losing his mind. (Evenings are the worst—that’s when Neil is home alone with his worries and self-doubts, rethinking every life choice he’s ever made.)
The thought of losing Shaun is stealing Neil’s peace. It’s preoccupying his days and keeping him up until all hours of the night. Facing a life without Shaun is Neil’s nightmare future scenario that’s threatening to come true. He’s barely been able to hold on for a few weeks—how the hell could he survive forever?
Neil can’t go on like this, but as difficult as it’s been, that’s only part of the reason he came to Shaun’s apartment tonight. Neil’s much more pressing concern is for Shaun. By this point in their relationship, Shaun seeks out Neil to talk about his problems, so for him to do the opposite is seriously troubling.
Neil can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong in Shaun’s world and the younger man has been dealing with it all by himself. The thought of Shaun struggling with something—alone with no one to help him—is sickening to Neil. He promised Shaun several times over the past year that he would never have to be alone again, and it’s time to follow through on that promise.
Whether this is about their relationship or not, Neil needs to know what’s going on. Maybe he won’t be able to fix it, but he has to try—for Shaun’s sake as much as his own.
With that thought, Neil steels his resolve and knocks on the door.
Not 15 seconds later, Shaun pulls it open, a surprised smile crossing his face when he sees Neil. His reaction is heartening after their time spent apart, and really, seeing Shaun outside of work and confirming he’s okay is already helping alleviate some of Neil’s worry.
“Hi, Shaun.”
“Hello, Neil.” Shaun steps back to open the door wider, the obvious invitation making Neil feel better about his spontaneous decision to visit (he has to admit, some part of him feared Shaun might come up with a reason to send him away right at the doorstep). “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“That’s because I purposely didn’t tell you,” Neil admits, passing through the short entryway to step into the main living area of Shaun’s home.
Shaun currently rents a 1 bedroom, 1 bath apartment in the same building where he used to live with Lea as his roommate. After she left to move in with her boyfriend, Shaun had downsized to a smaller apartment in the same building, so it’s almost identical to his previous one, just on a smaller scale.
Neil shrugs off his coat to drape over a chair at the kitchen island, not wanting to be presumptuous enough to hang it in the hall closet. Shaun might not want him to stay for long, but even if so, Neil’s not leaving until they talk.
It’s not his imagination that Shaun follows him more slowly than normal, stopping near the other side of the room, which is a good 20 feet away from Neil. It’s like Shaun’s reluctant to be near him, which is…awful.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming by?” Shaun mostly sounds curious, but there’s wariness in his tone that Neil isn’t used to hearing from him.
“I thought if I did, you’d have an excuse for why we shouldn’t see each other,” Neil tells him bluntly, deciding it’s best not to talk around why he’s here. “The same as every time I suggested it for, oh, the past month or so?”
“It has not been a month,” Shaun protests, needing to correct Neil’s minor exaggeration. “It has been 18 days.”
“So you have been making excuses not to see me?”
Shaun’s eyes widen, not realizing Neil’s trap until it was already sprung—and that’s unlike him, too. Even if he’s compelled to ‘correct’ inaccuracies like that, he typically sees what Neil’s doing far ahead of time. It’s just another in a long list of things that have been different these past few weeks.
In addition to making sure they aren’t in each other’s company for too long, Shaun has been acting unlike himself on the rare occasions they end up in the same room. He hasn’t been open to any of Neil’s attempts to talk, for one thing. He’s also careful to keep space between them, ensuring they can’t touch (even accidentally), and he doesn’t look at Neil directly if he can help it. All are classic signs Shaun is avoiding something—and the fact that Neil is who he’s avoiding has been almost too much to bear.
Their friends and co-workers have noticed, too. Neil has deflected more than a few comments and concerned questions asking if everything’s okay between them. Neil has tossed out the same excuses Shaun’s been using—they’re busy and they’re tired and they don’t have to be together every waking second (even if that’s the way things were up until now).
Neil does a quick visual check over Shaun, trying to determine if anything else is out of the ordinary, but it’s a little tricky when the younger man won’t look too much in his direction. At a glance, Shaun appears the same as always, but there are telltale signs that something might be going on under the surface. Shaun’s hair is slightly tousled, like he’d taken a shower after work and not bothered to style it afterwards. His face is drawn and tired, proving something has been taking its toll (more than just their normal workload). And he’s wearing…
“Is that my shirt?” Neil asks, once he realizes Shaun is wearing a dark green, long-sleeved shirt Neil has been missing for months. It’s from one of his favorite loungewear brands that Shaun has complimented in the past—Neil had offered to buy him some, but Shaun quickly shot down that idea.
“It got mixed in with my laundry one of the times I stayed over.” Shaun pulls at the bottom of the shirt. “I will go change and give it back to—”
“Not necessary,” Neil interrupts. “You can borrow any of my clothes, I’ve told you that before.”
“You have,” Shaun agrees, with a quick glance at Neil, “but I usually borrow dress clothes for events. You don’t mind if I borrow…anything?”
“Not at all. What’s mine is yours, remember?” Neil waits for Shaun to nod, because he’s told his resident that before, too. “Always, Shaun.”
What are the odds Shaun would be wearing Neil’s shirt when he showed up unannounced? It’s quite possible Shaun has even more clothing that belongs to Neil, and maybe he’s been wearing those items as a source of comfort. As painful as it is to think of Shaun missing him, Neil is happy that he’d still been able to help his resident in some way—and he’s absolutely not going to take away whatever has been helping Shaun during a difficult time.
Neil can’t deny the visceral feeling of satisfaction, either—Shaun wearing his clothes is only more proof he belongs to Neil.
(But those are the kind of thoughts he shouldn’t be having—and certainly not if he’s trying to prepare himself for a possible ‘break-up’.)
Which reminds Neil that he still needs to get to the bottom of why Shaun’s been acting strangely. The younger man is rooted to the same spot across the room, not looking anywhere in Neil’s vicinity, and he hasn’t answered Neil’s question about making excuses to avoid him. (Not that he needs to when they both know that’s what he’s been doing, but Neil would still like him to acknowledge it.)
“So, can you admit that you’ve been avoiding me?” Neil prompts.
“I did not…intend to avoid you,” Shaun says slowly, which isn’t much explanation. “I never want that.”
“But it’s what you were doing?”
“Not the way you think.” Shaun only seems more uncertain now, and Neil hates it—it’s been a long time since Shaun acted this way around him. “Did you come over because you are angry?”
“No, I’m not angry.” Neil takes a step towards Shaun without meaning to. “I’m worried and…confused. I came over to see you and talk to you, that’s all.”
“You want to…talk?”
“Yes,” Neil says firmly, trying to convey how serious he is about this. He won’t let Shaun get out of it again—Neil’s afraid that if he leaves before figuring out the issue, it might persist indefinitely. “I have no idea why you haven’t wanted to see me. Or talk to me.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Shaun’s more frustrated now. “I always want to see you, Neil.”
“I feel the same way.” Neil’s happy to hear straight from Shaun that they’re on the same page about that, at least. “You know you can see me whenever you want. No matter what’s going on.”
Shaun nods, staying quiet for a long moment, like he’s considering what to say. “I have been trying…to fix something.”
That was Neil’s best guess—aside from Shaun wanting to ‘break up’ with him—and there’s no good way to describe his sheer relief that it’s the former and not the latter. “What’s the issue?”
“It is for me to fix,” Shaun stresses, “not you.”
While Neil understands the sentiment, he can’t let Shaun use it as another excuse to keep them apart—not with how much it seems they’ve both been suffering from this temporary separation.
Neil might be fine suffering in silence but he draws the line at letting his resident feel the same way. It’s not happening if Neil can help it.
“I understand wanting to solve your own problems,” Neil assures him. “I’ve often felt that way myself, shutting out people who could help me, many times to my own detriment.”
“I am not trying to shut you out,” Shaun protests, sounding even more miserable.
“I know you’re not, but it’s still been happening. For almost three weeks now.” Neil is realizing he’ll need more than logic to get through to Shaun; he needs to show his resident that the strategy he’s using has been hurting them. “You don’t sound happy to me, Shaun, and you should know that I’m not happy with this separation, either. I’m struggling without you.”
“I did not know you felt that way.” Shaun’s concerned now, taking a step closer to Neil. “You did not say anything.”
“I was trying to give you space. If you need to be alone to work through an issue, then I get that, but it turns out I can only give you so much time before…” Neil trails off, not wanting to admit he’s essentially been falling apart without Shaun. He doesn’t want to guilt Shaun into opening up to him—he wants the younger man to feel comfortable enough to do it on his own. “I miss you, Shaun. That’s really what it comes down to: I miss you and I want to help you.”
“I miss you, too.” Shaun’s obvious unhappiness is seriously testing the bounds of Neil’s self-control. “I miss you all the time when we are not together.”
“We’re together right now,” Neil reminds him, gentle but firm. “You can talk to me about anything.”
Shaun nods, but he doesn’t speak, and once more he’s not looking at Neil.
“Did I do something wrong?” Neil’s half dreading the answer he might get. “If there’s something you’re uncomfortable discussing with me—”
“No!” Shaun exclaims, appearing to startle himself more than Neil. “It’s not that. I have told you that you never make me uncomfortable.”
“Then I’m asking you to trust me. I want to help, but I can’t if you won’t let me.”
Shaun takes a deep breath and slowly lets it go, a self-calming strategy that makes Neil proud while also pulling at his heart. “You cannot fix everything.”
“Maybe not, but I can at least try… If you won’t tell me the problem, I can’t even do that much.” Neil can tell Shaun’s resolve is weakening and he wonders if the younger man wanted to confide in him this whole time. Maybe he only needed an extra push in order to do it. “You know we’re much better at fixing a problem together than by ourselves.”
Shaun abruptly turns on his heel, heading for his front door. For a paralyzing moment, Neil thinks he might have lost tonight’s battle and Shaun’s about to kick him out. Instead, the younger man stops at a small side table near the door where he sorts his mail.
Shaun opens the top drawer and pulls out a neatly folded letter. He stares down at it for half a minute, maybe thinking over his decision, then walks back to Neil and silently hands it over.
Neil holds it up in warning. “If this is a resignation letter, you should know I’m going to burn it.”
That gets Shaun to smile, brief though it is. “I am not resigning. I never want to leave our hospital. Not while you’re there.”
Neil breathes a little easier, letting himself feel the weight of Shaun’s words. “Back at you, Murphy.”
When Shaun nods at the letter, Neil unfolds it and quickly scans all the way through, his heart sinking the further he reads. No wonder Shaun has been absent for the past couple weeks—if he’s been trying to solve a problem this big on his own…
“My apartment building has been sold,” Shaun tells him, confirming what Neil’s reading. “They will not be renewing anyone’s lease. They are going to tear down the complex and build luxury condominiums. I have three months to find a new place to live.”
Neil’s first reaction is to say this unexpected turn of events aligns perfectly with his hope they could move in together, but he bites back the words. If the solution were that simple, Shaun would have come up with it on his own—the fact that he didn’t means there has to be something more going on.
As much as Neil wants to hit fast forward on this discussion and jump to the end where they’re roommates (and hopefully more) who happily live together for the rest of their lives, he knows that if he rushes this, he could run the real risk of alienating Shaun. They have to talk this problem through—Neil needs to know everything going on in Shaun’s head before he reveals the plans he’s secretly had in the making for months.
“First of all,” Neil begins, “thank you for telling me. It must have been a shock to learn this news. Did you have any idea it might be happening?”
“Around a year ago, I began hearing rumors from my neighbors that the owners were trying to sell the building.” Shaun goes to the kitchen to turn on the coffeemaker, which Neil takes as a sign he’s welcome to stay for a while. “I did not think it was a real possibility because nothing came of it. Until 18 days ago.”
Neil’s piecing together the timeline, which lines up with Shaun’s change in behavior. “That was the Monday after our dinner at Aaron’s.”
“Yes. That letter was in my mailbox when I got home after work.”
Neil takes a seat at the island, watching Shaun restlessly move around the kitchen while they wait for the coffee to finish. Shaun seems to be rearranging things with no real purpose, a clear sign that his mind is stuck on the apartment dilemma and not on completing any necessary tasks.
“I take it you’ve been searching for a new apartment these past couple weeks?”
“It has been taking up most of my time outside of work,” Shaun says, which is a small relief to Neil—Shaun wasn’t so much avoiding him as he was trying to fix his impending homelessness (but even still, he’d chosen not to ask Neil for help, the reason for which is unclear). “I have toured 11 apartments over the past 18 days.”
“That many?” Neil’s dismayed at the thought of Shaun doing that alone after his long shifts at the hospital. “You must be exhausted.”
“It’s tiring,” Shaun agrees, pulling a mug from an upper cabinet, “but necessary. Along with tours, I looked at more places online and made 19 inquiries.” Shaun’s sigh is one of pure frustration as he fixes Neil’s coffee. “The search is not going well.”
“Housing and rental markets are crazy right now. Rents have skyrocketed over the past couple years, especially in the city.”
Shaun’s grim expression proves he’s learned as much firsthand. “I have encountered nothing but obstacles, mostly related to higher rent and cost of living.”
After Shaun prepares Neil’s coffee, he slides it carefully across the island to him. One sip proves it’s made perfectly (the usual from Shaun) and the return to something of their normal routine is helping Neil relax further.
“I’m sorry it’s been so difficult.” Neil motions to the couch with his mug. “Let’s get more comfortable while we talk about it.”
Shaun hesitates, but he nods and gets a glass of water for himself before they return to the living room. Neil takes a seat on one end of the couch and Shaun sits at the very opposite end. It’s been a while since Shaun kept this much space between them (they’re usually close enough to touch nowadays), but it’s still a lot closer than Neil has gotten for the past few weeks, so he’ll take whatever he can get.
“Let’s go back to the beginning.” Neil reads over the letter again, more carefully this time. “Is this whole thing legal? Is there anything the tenants of the building could do to stop it?”
“Some of my neighbors considered it, but they already consulted several lawyers who won’t take the case. They claim there is no legal grounds to win. None of us have any ownership stake in the building and management is not kicking us out before our leases end—they are declining to renew them. Even if we filed a lawsuit, it would most likely get thrown out. On the chance it didn’t, the lawyers said it would only delay the inevitable.”
“It seems unfair to do this to everyone.” Neil’s feeling as frustrated as Shaun, mostly because he knows there’s probably no recourse to resolve the situation to the residents’ satisfaction. “I know renters have some legal protections, but if the building is already sold and they won’t renew leases… I’m guessing whoever bought it did their research. They probably have an army of lawyers at their disposal, too.”
“That is a guarantee.” Shaun leans back into the sofa cushions behind him, weary in a way that bothers Neil (it might be his life’s goal by now to eliminate that type of feeling from Shaun’s life). “Even if a lawsuit might have a favorable outcome, I have no interest in a legal fight. I do not want to invest the time, energy, or money. I am not attached to this apartment so the thought of moving does not sadden me. The problem is finding another place to live.”
Live with me. Neil almost just says it, in a moment of weakness, but catches himself at the last second. He needs to hear the entire story before he makes the offer, unwilling to upset Shaun, which could well put an end to any productive discussion.
“Why don’t you walk me through your apartment search so far?”
“Most apartments comparable to this one in San Jose are out of my price range, so I had to expand my search parameters. My options are to accept something rundown, move outside the city, or find a roommate.” It’s clear from his tone how much Shaun hates each option. “I do not want to settle for any of those, but I might have no choice.”
According to the letter sent to Shaun, demolition is slated for six months from now, once all current leases have expired and the residents have moved out. As Shaun pointed out, it’s really not a place worth fighting for—the complex has many of the typical maintenance issues that plague older buildings, and the people who live there are not wealthy, by any means. It’s easier for them to move out and move on with their lives, rather than throwing away money on a legal battle they’re all but guaranteed to lose.
Neil sets the letter on the coffee table, then turns in his seat so he can face Shaun…all the way down the other end of the couch (this distance thing is really not working for Neil).
“Now that I know why you haven’t been around lately, I still have an unanswered question: why didn’t you come to me when you first got the letter?” When Shaun doesn’t answer, Neil continues, “You said you weren’t trying to avoid me, but that’s what you ended up doing, whether you meant to or not. I just don’t understand why, Shaun. You know I would have helped you—that I’m going to help you—in any way I can.”
“I wanted to find a solution on my own.” Shaun’s staring into his glass of water and nowhere near Neil. That’s a tell. “I did not expect it to be this difficult or take so long.”
“Was that the only reason?”
A long silence stretches between them, which means no, it was not. Neil waits while Shaun gathers his thoughts, desperately hoping he won’t hate whatever Shaun is about to say.
“It was not the only reason,” Shaun reluctantly admits, as if the words are being pulled out of him against his will. “I know, Neil.”
Neil’s expression doesn’t change, even as dread creeps into the back of his mind. “You know…what?”
Shaun glances at the coffee table where Neil set the letter. “I know what your solution is going to be.”
The trepidation is getting worse, threatening to engulf him. “Shaun—”
“I cannot live with you.”
The ensuing silence is deafening to Neil, his mind starting to go haywire. He can’t remember ever having such a strong reaction to mere words before. The hurt is immediate, all-encompassing, and deep—it’s bad enough that the pain might as well be physical.
Had Shaun figured out what Neil was planning? Did he find Neil’s list?
Or it might be an even worse possibility… Maybe his refusal to live with Neil is about their relationship.
Maybe it was everything Neil feared in the first place—that living together would make things too real for Shaun. Maybe he’d realized how deeply entangled they’ve become in a situation that was supposed to be temporary, but which has taken over their life in too many ways to count. Maybe it had snapped Shaun back to reality, reminding him they aren’t actually engaged, and that living together would perpetuate that falsehood indefinitely. (After all, they have no ending plan to their arrangement—despite talking about it numerous times, they’d never come up with one.)
Neil’s lungs don’t seem to be working correctly while he contemplates a future taken from him before he could even ask for it. He doesn’t want to accept the loss he’s feeling—he just can’t. The room around them fades until Neil’s focus becomes only Shaun. (The world could fall apart around them and he’s certain he’d be focused on Shaun until the end.)
“Shaun…” Neil feels completely lost. If Shaun leaves him alone out here… The feeling is as terrible as he always imagined. “I don’t…understand.”
“You are upset.” Shaun rubs his hands over his face, and now he sounds upset, too. “I do not want to upset you. That is why I didn’t tell you.”
“I’m more confused than upset.” Neil’s partly trying to calm Shaun, but he also wants to avoid getting into the reasons why he’s upset (which aren’t the reasons Shaun thinks). “How did you know I’d suggest living together?”
“You are practical. I will soon have nowhere to live and I already have a bedroom at your place. We spend much of our time together, so an offer to move in with you makes the most sense.”
“Yes, it does, which is why I’m confused.” Neil tries to focus on that confusion instead of the hurt he’s feeling…which is only getting worse. (If Shaun is admitting it makes sense, yet still doesn’t want it…could he hate the idea of living with Neil that much?) “If it’s a practical solution, then why not consider it? Even if you only wanted it to be temporary?”
(Though truth be told, Neil has serious doubts about whether he’d ever be able to let Shaun move out…which is yet another crazy and irrational thought he shouldn’t be having, least of all right now.)
“Because I cannot live with you,” Shaun slowly repeats, with no further explanation, as if that’s a good enough answer to Neil’s questions.
It takes every shred of Neil’s self-control to keep his face even upon hearing that for a second time. He remains perfectly neutral, trying his best to hide his true reaction—it feels like a vise is tightening around his heart as reality sinks in that Shaun truly seems to mean this: for whatever reason, the younger man doesn’t want them to live together.
Shaun avoided him for weeks just so he wouldn’t have to hear Neil suggest it.
Neil’s grip tightens on the handle of the coffee mug, shutting his eyes for a moment. He takes a sip of the coffee to try and reset while staying composed.
Neil has to remember, for the moment at least, that his reaction can’t be front and center. If he gets visibly emotional, Shaun will get equally upset, and any hope of finding a solution tonight will disappear. More than that, he doesn’t want to make Shaun feel bad about his life choices. Neil simply wants to understand them.
Shaun has every right to make decisions he feels are best for himself, but by this point in their friendship, Neil doesn’t think it’s unreasonable to want some justification—especially when he can’t follow Shaun’s thought process. His resident already admitted he’ll likely have to settle for a living situation he doesn’t want—in what world could that possibly be better for him than living with Neil?
“You can live wherever you choose,” Neil begins, with a calmness he doesn’t feel. “You always get to decide what’s best for your life. But if you don’t want to live with me, even temporarily while you search for another apartment, then I want to know why.”
Shaun glances away, a clear sign he doesn’t want to answer. “I cannot tell you.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I do not want to tell you.”
Now that Neil believes. “Are you worried I’ll argue or get upset? Because if it’s a real, honest reason, I’ll accept it, Shaun. You know I’m reasonable…most of the time.” That at least gets Shaun to smile a little. “I try to respect your wishes as much as possible, but I also have to be honest with you: I won’t be able to accept this decision without an explanation.”
Shaun’s definitely unhappy with Neil’s ultimatum. “Why not?”
“Because you’ve made it clear that your apartment options are bleak. You don’t want to accept any of them, but you might be forced to. And you admitted it ‘makes the most sense’ for us to live together—your exact words—but you refuse to consider it. You know the logic isn’t adding up here, which is why I’m struggling to accept your decision.”
“You will not like my reason,” Shaun says, miserably. “I know you will not, but you will try to convince me otherwise.” He straightens his shoulders, finding some newfound resolve. “Neil… I will not change my mind. It’s easier if we…skip the argument.”
“I won’t agree to that.”
“You are not being fair.”
“I think you’re the one who isn’t being fair.” When Shaun doesn’t say anything, Neil warns him, “If you won’t explain, then I’m going to take this opportunity to give you every reason I have for why we should live together.” If this is the only chance Neil has to give Shaun his list, he’s going to take advantage of it. “I think all my reasons combined will easily outweigh whatever is keeping you from agreeing.”
“You are making this unnecessarily difficult.”
“I think I’m making it just the right level of difficult,” Neil counters, with a half-teasing smile. “It’s what I do best, Shaun.”
Shaun huffs lightly, whether in amusement or agreement, Neil couldn’t say, but both are good signs. The younger man isn’t upset, he’s just weary, and that gives Neil hope that he might have a real shot of getting him to reconsider. By discussing every major benefit to living together, there’s even a chance Shaun’s issue could end up addressed and resolved along the way.
Shaun isn’t asking him to stop or leave, nor is he finding something else to do around the apartment to avoid the conversation, so Neil figures that’s as close to permission as he’s going to get right now.
Neil doesn’t even have to get the list from his wallet. He has the whole thing memorized.
“Let’s talk about money.” Neil chooses to start with the most contentious issue he and Shaun have dealt with over the course of their friendship. Shaun hates the idea of being dependent on anyone, but their financial situation would change by necessity if they moved in together. Neil could never in good conscience ask Shaun to pay his bills. “You would save a lot if we lived together.”
“I would not move in with you to save money.” Shaun’s appalled by the very suggestion. “I would never use you that way.”
“It’s not using me if I offer. If I want to do it.”
“I could not afford one-sixth of the expenses for your apartment,” Shaun points out, “never mind half.”
“That’s irrelevant because I’d expect nothing from you.” Neil won’t even compromise to appease Shaun—that’s how strongly he feels on the issue. “Not one cent.”
Shaun’s clearly stunned. “You cannot mean that!”
“But I do.” Neil leans closer to him even though Shaun’s too far away on the couch to reach. “You think I’d let money keep us apart? Yes, I have a lot of it, and no, you don’t have nearly as much as me, but I don’t care. Let me turn it around for you: do you care that I have money? If I lost everything I had tomorrow, would you want nothing to do with me?”
“I would never feel that way!” Shaun has moved on from stunned to offended. “Our relationship has nothing to do with money or material possessions. You know that.”
“You’re right. We’ve talked about this issue before and we settled it a long time ago.” Neil pauses long enough to let his reminder sink in.
Neil and Shaun had several fights about money early on in their friendship before ultimately reaching an agreement: whenever they do something together that costs money, Neil pays for it, solely because it’s easy for him and it’s not easy for Shaun, who lives on a strict budget.
Shaun admitted in the past that if their situations were reversed, with him as the established surgeon earning a high salary while Neil sometimes struggled to make ends meet, then he would have insisted on paying for as much as he could. They had agreed that as the (much) higher earner, Neil would pay more as a way of ensuring Shaun didn’t struggle or miss important bills just because he and Neil often enjoyed outings that could run on the expensive side. Once Shaun accepted that Neil didn’t view paying for things as a form of pity or charity, he managed to let go of his negative feelings about it—and Neil is hoping that similar logic would apply to them living together.
“You paying all the bills is different than paying for things we do together,” Shaun protests, like he’s reading Neil’s mind. “It is significantly more money.”
“But I’ll be paying the exact same amount every month as I do now—and I will continue to pay that even if you don’t live with me.” Neil feels some satisfaction when Shaun pauses, unable to deny that true fact. “If we lived together, I would pay the expenses, at least for now. If you want to revisit this discussion when you’re making more than a resident’s salary, that’s fine, but I would never ask you to pay part of my bills, all of which I took on myself before we even met. I couldn’t let you strain your finances, or take on debt, because of my choices.”
“Neil…”
“There is no reality where I would let you give me money for us living together, Shaun.” The idea of it is abhorrent to Neil—as if Shaun would ever owe him anything when Neil wants nothing more than to give him everything in the world. “Taking money from you, at this point in time, would be unfair given the large disparity in our incomes.”
Shaun shakes his head slowly…not because of Neil’s logic, but because he can’t argue the point any further.
“Based on your silence,” Neil continues, “I’m going to assume you’re conceding the point to me?”
“I did not concede any point,” Shaun says haughtily. “But I can acknowledge your logic on this issue.”
“Careful, Shaun,” Neil jokes, “that’s sounding awfully close to a concession…”
“You have a remarkable ability to hear what you want to hear.”
Neil has to laugh, because his resident isn’t wrong. “That might be true, but it’s a habit that has served me well, so I’m going to stick with it. I’m also going to take your almost-but-not-quite-a-concession as encouragement to keep going.”
Shaun doesn’t argue, which is as good as telling Neil to continue, so he settles further into the couch while sipping his coffee. Neil’s feeling a lot calmer than only ten minutes ago, more relaxed after realizing Shaun is going to be open-minded about this. When they discuss and debate issues with openness and honesty, they can typically work their way through anything—Neil’s just praying it will work this time, as well.
Besides that, Neil might be enjoying their discussion about this imaginary future reality where they live together—even if he technically hasn’t gotten Shaun to agree yet.
“My next reason is the time it would save on your commute to and from work,” Neil continues, and though it might seem minor, every minute they can save in their hectic lives is well worth it. “I live 20 minutes closer to the hospital than you.”
“I already use your car service,” Shaun points out, since Neil won that battle long ago. “The extra commute time does not bother me since I no longer have to deal with the stress, inconvenience, or unreliability of public transportation.”
“It might not bother you, but you can’t deny living closer to the hospital would add up over time. You’d get back 40 minutes for every shift you worked—that’s almost an hour.”
“Yes, I know the length of an hour,” Shaun says smartly, though not without humor.
“So you’re admitting how much time you’d save,” Neil persists, certain that Shaun’s now fighting a smile. “See, we’re on a roll! Let’s move on to reason #3—getting away from neighbors. Any apartment you end up choosing would have the same problems with neighbors as you’ve found here.”
“I do not mind most of my neighbors.” As if to remind them of the annoyances, there’s a loud thud from above that has Neil and Shaun looking up at the ceiling. “They are…noisy. At times.”
“What about the ones who fight?” Neil asks pointedly, since Shaun has long complained about hearing people argue through the walls, even letting it slip one time that it uncomfortably reminded him of his childhood. “And screaming children?”
“They are difficult.” Shaun directs a vague frown at his apartment floor. “I think the people below me got a dog. I do not mind animals, but they should be trained in a building like this. To deal with noise, I wear headphones or turn up the TV.”
“Neither of which are great long-term solutions. You shouldn’t have to drown out other people when you’re home.” It’s yet another issue that has long bothered Neil about Shaun’s living situation. “At my place, the only neighbor on my floor is Mrs. Foster across the hall…and her ever-multiplying cats. But you can’t hear anything because of the soundproofing.”
“Your apartment was built to higher standards.” Shaun’s eyes flick upwards at some distant clanging from the apartment above them. “I like Mrs. Foster. The last time we spoke, she said we should adopt one of her cats. She has accumulated too many.”
“You should have told me that before. We could take one if you wanted.” If it would help convince Shaun to live with him, Neil might happily turn into a cat person just like Mrs. Foster. “I could see us getting a cat.”
“You never said you wanted a pet before.” Shaun has turned suspicious. “Are you saying that to entice me to move in with you?”
“Not entirely.” Neil can’t help his half-smile. “I think animals make great companions, but I never had the time or inclination to get one. It’d be easier if we shared the responsibility. We’re great at taking care of plants, remember?”
“I’m in charge of the plants.” It’s more of a warning for Neil than a reminder.
“Yes, but I excel at doing exactly what you tell me—”
“One of your better qualities,” Shaun notes.
“—and I haven’t killed a plant yet, have I? I’m certain I could apply that to animals, too. If you wanted one.”
“I considered adopting a pet the last time I took care of Mrs. Foster’s cats.” Shaun’s glancing around the living room and kitchen, as if envisioning a kitten jumping around the space. “I decided against it because I’m not here as much anymore, which would be unfair to a pet. I would want to be with them every night.”
Neil imagines Shaun returning to his own apartment after every shift instead of heading for Neil’s, which has become his habit, as of late. It’s not unheard of for Neil and Shaun to hang out at Shaun’s place, but it’s much rarer, and Neil usually returns home for the night. Neil’s apartment is a lot more convenient and comfortable for both of them. (Neil can admit he’s at an age where the best night’s sleep begins and ends with his own bed.)
“So if you’d gotten a pet,” Neil’s working out Shaun’s logic, “we would have seen each other a lot less.”
“A trade I was unwilling to make.”
Neil breathes out at the stark admission that Shaun had chosen him over adopting a pet. “I didn’t realize that. I wish you’d told me.”
“There was no reason,” Shaun insists. “I did not think you wanted a pet because you never talked about it.”
“Neither did you.” Neil wonders if there’s a bigger lesson here: neither of them can possibly know what the other won’t say. “But if we lived together and both of us wanted a cat—or any other pet—why not adopt one?”
Shaun tips his head back and forth, like he’s thinking about it. “I agree with you, but we should not live together just to adopt a pet.”
“It’s one reason out of many.” Neil isn’t giving up on his efforts unless Shaun kicks him out (and not even then). “Having a pet would help both of us. They make excellent companions.”
“Research has shown that pets have many benefits,” Shaun agrees, seeming not to realize he’s taken over Neil’s argument. “They lower stress levels, decrease blood pressure, and encourage physical activity, which lead to numerous positive impacts on health. Pet owners also report decreased rates of loneliness and depression.”
“Then it’s settled,” Neil decides, “we’ll get a cat.”
“I did not agree to live with you,” Shaun reminds him, with a note of caution. “You have pointed out some of the benefits, but you have not changed my mind.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Yes,” Shaun says, “we will.”
Neil can’t help taking that as a challenge. The fact is, if Shaun were confident in his decision, he would have ended their conversation a while ago. Under any other circumstances, Neil wouldn’t push his resident like this, but he can sense the cracks underneath Shaun’s outward armor. The more they talk, the more he suspects Shaun wants to live with him—but the mysterious issue he won’t reveal is what’s holding him back. Neil won’t be able to rest until he learns what it is.
“We’ll put any final decision about pets on hold for now,” Neil graciously allows. “To that end, how about maintenance costs and repairs? My apartment was renovated shortly before I bought it, so I’ve only had a handful of issues in seven years. If it needs anything down the road, I’ll be the one paying for it. Meanwhile, you’ve had…” Neil waves his arm around the room, “how many problems since you moved into this building?”
“14,” Shaun sighs. “Some were covered by my lease, but most were not.” He glances over at his bedroom door, hesitating a moment before he admits, “The heat has not been working correctly. Sometimes it will not go above 65 in my bedroom.”
Neil tamps down on the surge of anger that flares in him, not at Shaun, but at the situation. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“It’s my responsibility to fix it, not yours. 65 is not intolerable for sleeping and I bought a space heater. It’s less of an issue when I’m only here a few nights per week.”
“Except for the past 18 days.” Neil can’t keep the sharpness out of his tone, despite his best efforts. “Is the building manager being difficult again?”
“He says I am on his list and he will get to it soon…though he has been saying that for a month. He is not a pleasant person.”
“I’m well aware, but sometimes people need to be pushed, Shaun. You know I’m more than willing to do that when you don’t want to.”
Shaun’s nodding at him. “I appreciate that.”
Neil has had several run-ins with the management of Shaun’s building over the past year, mostly when he contacts them to fix an issue they’re dragging their feet on. It’s been a fine line to walk because Neil never wants to overstep too much into Shaun’s life, but hearing about problems that aren’t fixed in a timely manner is infuriating. Neil never wanted to make Shaun a possible target for retaliation, either. To that end, he’s made it clear to everyone he’s spoken with that if he even suspects such a thing might be happening, they’ll be met with a high-priced lawyer suing them for every possible reason he could dream up.
“I’m going to be contacting them again.” Neil wonders if the recent delays are due to the building’s sale, with management not wanting to spend money on a complex that will be torn down before year’s end. “This is the kind of thing you’d never have to deal with again if you lived with me.”
Shaun’s glance at him is knowing. “I dislike dealing with maintenance issues.”
“You hate it, last I heard.”
Shaun is forever complaining about the unresponsiveness of his building’s management, and on top of that, he’s run into similar problems while trying to hire outside help to fix issues. As a whole, Shaun simply despises dealing with people who don’t share a similar work ethic as him. He gets easily frustrated and ends up arguing with people who then never show up to do the job. All of that is why Neil began stepping in to help him in the first place.
“Yes,” Shaun continues, “and you know my feelings on it, so this reason gives you an unfair advantage.”
“I’ll take whatever advantages I can find, Shaun. You know that.”
“You are relentless.” Shaun’s studying him now. “I admire that quality in you, but it can also be…”
“Endearing?”
“Exasperating.”
“Said with an air of fondness, so I’ll take it.” Neil’s grinning at him now, because even though Shaun’s remaining stubborn, their banter is doing wonders to help Neil’s state of mind (maybe Shaun’s, too). He’d missed their back and forth. Three weeks without Shaun had felt like torture to get through—and it’s only making Neil more determined to ensure it never happens again. “Is this another point you’re conceding to me?”
“I don’t think so,” Shaun says lightly. “I’ll never have to handle maintenance again no matter where I live if you continue dealing with it.” As soon as he says it, his humor fades, like he’s actually hearing himself. “If you want to.” His voice gets quieter as he glances down at his hands, now folded in his lap. “You do not have to.”
Neil slides down on the couch, not enough to sit right next to Shaun, but enough to erase some of this vast distance between them. (It’s not nearly as close as Neil wants, but it’s better than before.)
“Shaun, I want to make something perfectly clear.” Neil waits for the younger man to look at him. “The things I help you with… Our jobs. Our friendship. Everything between us? None of that has anything to do with where you live—or anything else. You do not have to earn my help by keeping me happy.”
“I do not think that,” Shaun weakly protests, but his hesitation proves he’d wondered on some level if Neil’s help was contingent on their circumstances. “You…really mean that?”
“Yes,” Neil says firmly. “You can live by yourself, or with me, or hell, move in with Morgan if you dare—nothing is ever going to change between us unless you want it to. I would never use anything about our relationship as a bargaining chip and say you only get it if you do what I want. That’s not the way things will ever be with us. And anyone who would do that to you does not deserve to be in your life.”
“Okay. I thought that, but…” Shaun shakes his head, gives up on trying to explain, and breathes out slowly. “Thank you, Neil.”
“You are more than welcome.”
“I would never live with Morgan.”
Neil has to laugh at his resident’s blunt segue. “You and the rest of the world with any sense.”
“She and Alex might move in together,” Shaun inexplicably chooses that moment to reveal, “but not because they are in a relationship. Morgan made that very clear.”
Neil had no idea they were considering it, but it doesn’t surprise him in the least. “How long are they going to keep lying to themselves?”
Shaun looks at him for so long that Neil wonders if he should feel uncomfortable, but all the younger man says is, “Why don’t you ask them?”
“I never get a satisfactory answer.” Morgan dodges his needling questions and comments with expert precision, and truth be told, Neil has never dared bring it up to Park—he’s not afraid of the other man’s reaction, but he’s wary of where the discussion might go with how easily Park could turn it back around to him and Shaun.
“Maybe you are not asking the right questions.”
Neil glances at him sharply, but there’s nothing on Shaun’s face other than genuine belief. “Maybe my residents exist to drive me crazy.”
“You do not believe that.”
No, he doesn’t. “Since when did Alex and Morgan’s relationship get that serious? Where have I been?” (Other than sulking over Shaun these past three weeks…)
“They are not romantically involved,” Shaun claims, though he knows as well as Neil that there’s more going on between them than they’ll admit. “They said if they were roommates, they could share expenses.”
“Oh please,” Neil scoffs, “no one becomes roommates to share expenses!”
“That is actually the main reason people become roommates,” Shaun counters, much too smartly (in Neil’s opinion). “And it was your first reason to me.”
“That’s different because it’s one of many reasons.” Neil pauses, wondering if he could turn the Morgan and Alex situation to his advantage. “Do you think either of them had to convince the other they should live together? Maybe I’ll ask for advice.”
Shaun seems unamused on the surface, but Neil swears he sees a glint of humor in the younger man’s eyes. “You are not serious.”
“I’m relentless, you said so yourself.”
“I think you enjoyed that observation too much.”
“You know it, Murphy.”
“I thought you were finished with your arguments.”
“Reasons,” Neil corrects. “If I haven’t convinced you yet, then I must not have given you enough.”
Shaun’s turning wary again. “Neil…”
“Your other option is to tell me the truth about what’s going on and why you don’t want to live with me. The mysterious reason you refuse to reveal.”
Shaun remains obstinately silent, but once again, he doesn’t try to stop their conversation. Neil can only hope he’s getting through to the younger man, but until Shaun agrees (or finally reveals the real problem), he’s going to keep explaining why he believes living together would be best for both of them.
“Security is another important issue to consider,” Neil tells him. “My building has 24/7 on-site security personnel, but I’m guessing none of the places you’re looking at have anything near that level. They’re probably similar to your building right now, with a keypad entry that’s broken half the time, so people prop the door open. So many packages have been stolen from residents that you have all your deliveries sent to my place.”
“That is true, but we have not had trouble with break-ins,” Shaun says, latching onto one marginally small point in his building’s favor. “We have video surveillance.”
“That helps, but there are plenty of people who don’t care about cameras. Any building you move to would probably have similar issues with lax security because it’s an easy thing to cut and save money. To get real security, like at my building, you would have to pay for a more expensive place. Or…move in with me.”
“It would be nice to live somewhere with better security.” Shaun sounds wistful, but resigned. “I have never lived in a place that felt…truly safe. The way your home feels.” He shuts his eyes for a second and Neil gets the feeling he hadn’t meant to reveal that. “Not when I was a child, with my family or foster homes, nor as an adult in med school, or here in San Jose. I could never afford it.”
Neil had known that, but hearing Shaun admit it twists painfully inside him—especially with the admission that Shaun feels safe with Neil, yet that still hasn’t been enough to convince him they should live together.
Of everyone Neil has known in his life, Shaun Murphy is the most deserving of more than he’d received, yet he’d consistently gotten less than even the bare minimum. (It only makes Neil more determined to try and show him that tonight—while he’s been trying to convince Shaun to move in, Neil has ultimately been convincing himself, even more than before, that this is necessary.)
“Living together isn’t only about the biggest issues, like saving money or better security,” Neil continues, because he’s far from done. “What about having more space? You’ve mentioned that you dislike not having room to invite people over—it would feel crowded with just a few people in this apartment. Also, I’ve said it before, but you could always have get-togethers at my place.”
“I spend a lot of time at your apartment, but it is not my apartment. It is not appropriate to invite people to your home.”
“If you officially moved in, it would be our home. So you wouldn’t be arranging something at my place, it would be us hosting an event.” Neil can hardly believe he’s pushing for something he was so vehemently against before he met Shaun. “Honestly, that’s the way I’d view it right now if you wanted to invite people over, even without us officially living together.”
“You never had interest in things like that,” Shaun’s full of skepticism.
“It’s not that I have no interest, it’s that I never had people I wanted to spend that much time with.” Neil hadn’t recognized how lonely he’d been until Shaun pointed it out to him a few weeks ago at Aaron’s. “My feelings seem to have changed over the past year.”
“I never had real friends before.” Shaun’s matter of fact statement punches Neil right in the chest. “I like to see them…but not too much.”
Neil manages not to laugh at the warning. “We can see them as much or as little as you want.” Another thought occurs to him, twinging with guilt. “I hope I haven’t been monopolizing your time. That’s never been my intention.”
“I like when you monopolize my time.” Shaun’s so earnest that Neil wants to pull him into a hug (a thought which keeps recurring tonight, with growing intensity). “That has always been one of the best things about our arrangement. I want to spend time with you.”
“We could spend a lot more time together if you lived with me.”
Shaun surprises him by getting up from the couch and pacing over to the window, where he looks outside. There’s not much view from his living room, since it faces the back alleyway and the brick facade of the building next door. Not to mention there’s even less of a view at night, in the darkness.
Shaun stares out there for a long time while Neil waits. He’d sit on that couch all night waiting for Shaun. Longer, even.
When the younger man finally turns back around, the pained expression on his face almost gets Neil on his feet, but he forces himself to stay still.
“Neil… I do not know what to tell you.”
“The truth would be a good start.”
Shaun takes a deep breath but Neil can hear how shaky it is, even from across the room. “I cannot live with you.”
“But you want to.” Neil’s accusation instantly hits home, making Shaun’s eyes widen before he drops his gaze back to the floor.
Neil feels lightheaded—some mixture of relief and worry and fear and hope—and suddenly, just like Shaun, he’s not certain what to do or say next, keenly aware that a wrong step might undo all the progress they’ve made.
“Neil,” Shaun whispers, not looking at him, and sounding more than a little desperate. “Please.”
At any other time, with Shaun asking him in that tone, in that way, Neil would have done what he wanted. He would have let it go. But he can’t this time. Neil cannot let this go because it feels like if he does, he will be letting Shaun go, and that is something he cannot bear. (It might, in fact, be impossible at this point.)
“If you want to live with me, why won’t you let it happen?”
“I can’t.” Shaun might be on the verge of tears, which is enough to get Neil standing, but he doesn’t take a step. “Would you…could you…please accept my decision?”
“No, Shaun. I won’t accept it when I can see how much this is hurting you.” It goes against everything in Neil to deny Shaun something he wants, but in this case, he’s terrified that giving in to him might do a lot more harm than good. “There’s a simple solution to your problem and I still don’t understand why it doesn’t work for you. How could I…forget all this? I’m not even asking you to agree with me and move in—all I’m asking for is an explanation.”
Shaun’s shaking his head, still staring at the ground, voice trembling as he protests, “You don’t understand. If we live together, you will—you will—” He breaks off, fists clenched at his sides, clearly anguished, and Neil has no idea how to fix it.
“What don’t I understand? What’s so awful that you can’t tell me, of all people?” Neil wants to step closer to him, but he’s afraid Shaun might move further away. “You know I’d do anything for you, help you however I could, so why can’t—”
“You will hate me!”
Shaun’s sudden outburst makes Neil’s blood run cold. For a long moment, all he can do is stare at Shaun while he tries to process those words. The younger man’s pain is written all over him and Neil isn’t certain if touching him would help or hurt more, so he doesn’t move.
“You…think…what?”
Shaun shuts his eyes, breathing heavily, but his anger seems to have been drained right out of him. As if saying such a terrible thing out loud has sapped any energy he had left, leaving only a strange sort of devastation in its wake.
“You will hate me,” Shaun repeats, sounding so bleak that Neil’s heart could have been torn from his chest and it would have felt less brutal. “Neil. You will—you will hate me. That is why…we cannot live together.”
Neil doesn’t make a decision to cross the room, he just does it, because nothing could keep him away after hearing that. Shaun’s despair is so much worse than his anger.
He stops right in front of his resident, who still won’t look at him, but Neil doesn’t care. “How could you possibly think I would ever hate you?”
His closeness gets Shaun to open his eyes in surprise and they’re wet with unshed tears. His misery is crushing to Neil, leaving him to wonder how long Shaun has been harboring this (untrue) fear.
“Everyone does,” Shaun chokes out, rubbing at his eyes until they turn red. “Everyone. They hate—” He breaks off, and his inability to articulate his thoughts is yet another glaring red flag about how deeply this has been affecting him. “They hate…living with me.”
“First, and most important of all, I will never hate you.” Neil might mean that more than he’s ever meant anything. “Put that thought right out of your head. There is nothing that could change my feelings for you. I love you, Shaun.”
“I know you do. And I love you.” Shaun’s determination shores up right before Neil’s eyes. “That is why I can’t risk living with you. I can’t—I cannot lose you, Neil. I would never…be the same.”
“I understand that sentiment, believe me. I feel the exact same way.” Which is really a nicer way of saying that losing Shaun might well kill him, but Neil sets the thought aside for a better time. He has to tread carefully here, but he has plenty of experience with that in his time knowing Shaun. He sets his hand on Shaun’s shoulder, gripping tighter when the younger man makes a small sound and leans into the touch. “Will you sit back down and talk to me about this?”
Shaun breathes out slowly, breath stuttering, but he gives the slightest nod and lets himself be led back over to the couch. Neil guides him to sit on the end of it and takes the seat right next to him, close enough their legs are almost touching. Shaun seems to calm a little just from that, taking a few deep breaths, and Neil gives him a minute to compose himself.
“I am not…easy to live with,” Shaun finally says, running his hands back and forth over his knees while he looks down at his lap. “I have set ways. I do not like change or disruption. The mere act of sharing my living space with another person typically irritates me. At worst, it angers me.” He sighs heavily and Neil suspects he’s tired of struggling to fit into other people’s molds, only to end up failing so much of the time. “I do not hide my feelings well. I usually do not want to. Things get…worse from there.”
Neil had known that based on things Shaun told him (and his own observations), but he’d never considered it in relation to their situation. He’s feeling some uncomfortable uncertainty, hoping he hasn’t missed anything when it comes to this—Shaun has given no indication of the sort, but hearing how difficult it is for him to live with anyone has definitely given Neil pause.
“Have you ever felt that way with me?” he asks, cautiously.
“No.” Shaun might as well be shouting for how fierce his voice has become. “Never.”
“Okay, that’s a good sign.” Neil’s fighting to keep his tone even, fighting against himself to not pull Shaun into his arms and hug him until his resident realizes this nightmare scenario could never—not in any version of reality—come true. “If your opinion about me hasn’t changed, even with all the time we spend together, what makes you think mine would ever change about you?”
Shaun’s quiet at that, maybe because he doesn’t have a good answer to it.
“I’m going to say it again: I will never hate you. I love you and I always will.”
“I know you believe that.” Shaun’s hands are once again folded in his lap, though he’s holding them together too tightly in a tell of how fraught his emotions are. “But you do not understand. People…change. When they live with me. It happens to everyone.”
“Am I everyone?”
Shaun huffs lightly at Neil bringing up his past claims that he’s not like anyone else. “No. You have always been different. From the day we met.”
“You’ve told me that many times and you’re right. I’m not like the other people you’ve known and our relationship is different, too. So wouldn’t it stand to reason that my reaction to us living together would be different, as well?”
“But people’s reactions are always the same,” Shaun argues, unwilling to let go of his wrong belief so easily. “Lea. Dr. Glassman. Every roommate I had in med school.” Neil freezes when he realizes Shaun is listing everyone he’s lived with, each situation ending as poorly as the times before. “Every college roommate. Every foster family. My parents. Steve.” Shaun’s voice breaks on the last one. “They all hated living with me…or hated me by the end. Even if they tried to be kind about it, I know what living with me does to people.”
“I refuse to believe your brother ever hated you.” Neil keeps his voice even by sheer force of will. “And I know Dr. Glassman doesn’t. Lea doesn’t. Shaun…people finding it difficult to live with you is not the same as disliking you or hating you. On a rational level, you know that.”
“They resented it. Resented me. Even Steve. He had extreme patience, more than any other person I have known. In that, he rivals only you.” Shaun glances over at him with a faint smile that’s more sad than anything else. “After we ran away, we found an old school bus we used for shelter. I was…unhappy with our situation. I asked Steve for too much. I wanted things the way they were before. It would make him upset, at times. Or angry.” He swallows, squeezing his hands more tightly together. “We had a fight…right before…”
Neil can no longer stop himself from pulling Shaun against him, wrapping him in a hug and trying to show him he has nothing to fear when it comes to this. Trying to show him how sorry he is over all of it—that he’d take the pain away if he could—and maybe Shaun understands because that’s when he starts to cry. He drops his face into Neil’s shoulder, either to hide or seek comfort—or maybe both. They sit together for some time like that, while Shaun quietly cries, letting go of emotions he might not have even realized he had building up inside.
They’ve known each other for almost two years, so Neil has seen Shaun cry before, but those tears are usually borne of frustration or anger. It’s much rarer for him to express his pain in this way; on that front, Shaun seems as much of an expert at keeping his emotions hidden as Neil—to the point that many mistakenly believe he doesn’t have them, or doesn’t feel things in the same way as those without autism. But Shaun’s emotions run just as deep as everyone else’s—it’s only his expression of them that’s often different from the rest.
“It’s not your fault, Shaun. Not Steve. Not any of it.” Neil’s speaking quietly at Shaun’s temple, mouth almost pressed to his hair. “You are not to blame for what happened to your brother. You are not to blame for other people’s poor reactions to living with you. And I will never feel the way you are describing.”
Shaun sniffs as his crying tapers off, though he doesn’t move away or lift his head from where it’s pressed to Neil’s shoulder, now damp with tears. “You believe things will not change,” Shaun’s keeping his voice low, maybe to hide his fear, “but what if…you are wrong?”
“I’m outraged that you think I’d ever be wrong.” Neil lets himself smile when Shaun laughs a little against him, pained though it is. “Let’s take the emotions out of it for a moment and look at the situation logically—one of your favorite things to do.”
Shaun sits up enough for them to look at each other, but doesn’t move any further than that. “What do you mean?”
“I mean look at the overall picture. Not only everything we’ve talked about tonight, but the fact that we spend a lot of time together, especially these past few months. How many nights do you spend at my place each week? It used to be two or three, now it’s…?”
“Four or five,” Shaun answers. “Sometimes more.”
“We’ve known each other for close to two years and we keep spending more time with each other because of how much we enjoy it. We’re practically halfway to living together already. Has my behavior towards you changed in a negative way, like what you’re describing with other people?”
Shaun watches him for a long minute, maybe thinking back over their time together, especially the past few months. “No,” he finally admits, some tension in his shoulders relaxing. “You have only become more solicitous.”
“I want you to feel happy and comfortable with me, Shaun. Wherever we happen to be.” He studies Shaun’s expression, his resident watching him right back with the type of serious contemplation that Neil hopes will bode well for both of them. “What it comes down to is what you believe in more: your fear of a potential worst case scenario or your faith in me?”
“I will always believe in you.” Shaun’s answer is instant, like he didn’t even have to think about it.
“Then I’m asking you to let me prove what I’m saying. Things between us won’t change in the way you fear—I wouldn’t let that happen. We wouldn’t let it happen. We might have some arguments, which is normal when people live together, but we already have plenty of disagreements, don’t we? They’re polite and civil and kind. We work through our issues just fine…as long as we talk about them.”
“We never talked about this,” Shaun says slowly, starting to realize what half of their problem has been—their refusal to bring it up with each other.
“We were both at fault this time, but we’re talking about it now, and we can try to be more open in the future. So misunderstandings like this don’t happen again.”
Shaun nods, though he still seems troubled. “You always want what is best for me. I knew you would ask me to live with you when you learned I was losing my apartment.” He sounds dejected enough that Neil wants to pull him right back into another hug. “But you do not have to…do things to make my life easier. Not if you don’t want them, too.”
His last statement is so far out of left field that Neil’s head might be spinning. How could Shaun not know how much he wants this…?
But Neil never told him, did he? He’d been so careful to keep that knowledge hidden from Shaun, afraid of upsetting or angering the younger man in a way that might negatively affect their relationship. He’d held himself back because of Shaun’s fierce yearning for independence, along with his poor reactions to the idea of depending on anyone—even Neil, whom he’s become reliant on in so many other ways. (And after tonight, Neil better understands where a lot of his resistance was coming from.)
Neil had eased his own anxiety by planning exactly how to do it: he would lay out the perfect case for them to live together, with every reason necessary to convince Shaun, and his resident would agree Neil was right all along before happily moving in with him. (As if reality, especially in his relationship with Shaun Murphy, has ever matched how he thought it would go!)
Neil’s sole focus when it comes to these matters is always Shaun, and it went so far this time that the younger man seems to have no idea how Neil feels about them living together—which is a serious problem Neil is going to fix right now.
“Shaun Murphy,” Neil begins, with renewed determination, “I have wanted to live with you for months. Months. Maybe back to when we were strictly friends and not even pretending to be in a relationship. But I knew—or thought I knew—that you didn’t want anything like that. That you had worked your whole life to stand on your own and didn’t want to give up any of the freedom you have so rightfully earned…but it’s not about giving up your freedom, is it? I was completely wrong about that.”
Shaun has leaned back, watching him with piercing interest—if nothing else, Neil’s certain he has the younger man’s full attention.
“This isn’t about losing your apartment, either,” Neil continues. “I admit it’s serving as the catalyst, out of necessity, but me wanting this has nothing to do with your building being sold.” He glances at his jacket, which is still draped over a chair at the kitchen island. “Hold on, I have something that will help show you.”
He goes over to retrieve his wallet from his jacket pocket and brings it back to the couch. Tucked inside is the list he’s been working on: tangible proof he wanted Shaun with him long before learning about the sale of his building. He retakes his seat next to Shaun and hands the paper over without a word.
Shaun slowly unfolds the well-worn note, which Neil has been carrying with him for much too long. He scans over it quickly, then more slowly, before snapping his eyes back to Neil’s. He holds up the paper with a hand that’s trembling. “What is this?”
“It’s exactly what it looks like: my reasons for why we should live together, many of which I’ve told you tonight.” Neil could keep adding to that list for the rest of his life—it might be infinite. “I’ve been thinking about it since Las Vegas, or maybe even before then, and finally began writing it down after our night at Aaron’s. Witnessing your struggle that night firsthand, but also seeing how much I could help? How much better things were for both of us that night? I thought…we could have that all the time.” He gives Shaun a fond half-smile, tipping his head towards the note. “I knew the more reasons I had, the more likely you were to say yes—you love evidence when I’m trying to sway you to my opinion.”
“You…were going to…”
“I was going to ask you to live with me…or more accurately, present my case. And believe it or not, the most important reasons aren’t on there—I was only focused on how living together would help you because that list is about trying to get you to agree.”
Shaun is reading it over again, more slowly this time. “What did you leave off?”
“How much I want this.” Something in his tone not only gets Shaun looking at him again, but his resident leans closer so their sides are pressed together on the couch. Neil takes a deep breath, trying to decide how best to explain in a way that won’t make Shaun think he’s losing his mind (which is how the past few weeks have felt). “Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been for me? Without you?”
“You told me you missed me,” Shaun reminds him. “I missed you, too.”
“It’s more than that, Shaun. Your recent distance has been driving me insane, but long before that, I’ve always hated the nights you aren’t with me. I think about you constantly, wondering how you’re doing. Wondering if you need me. Despising the fact that I can’t just look over at you or walk into the next room to check that you’re okay. I just…want you there. With me. It turns out I need you, Shaun. Maybe for my sanity, or…I don’t know. But it’s how I feel.”
Shaun is glancing between the list and Neil, as if trying to understand what he’s reading and what Neil’s telling him—which are two equally important pieces to the same puzzle. Neil has never done well without Shaun. He’d been able to ignore that reality for a long time, but the past few months it’s been eating away at him, day by day. He used to be able to hide it, but not anymore. He’s tired of doing that and has been for a long time.
“You have wanted to live with me for…months. Before you knew I would be losing my apartment.”
“Yes.” Neil swallows, feeling unexpectedly emotional as he thinks of all the nights he’s spent at home by himself. Before Shaun, his apartment had never seemed empty the way it does now. The thought of going back to that is unbearable. “I’ve told you all this before, but I can never repeat it enough—I love spending time with you in every capacity and I only want more of it. We help each other in a lot of ways and we’re happier together than apart—I want to live with you. I have wanted it for a very long time.”
“You never said anything about it.” Shaun’s speaking cautiously, but there’s a thread of hope woven underneath. “Not…like that.”
“Whenever the topic of your living situation came up—with me or Aaron or our friends—you never reacted favorably to the idea of living with anyone. And you often resisted when I told you to treat my home as if it’s also your home. I never wanted to push you on a sensitive topic that obviously upset you. I didn’t want to alienate you or hurt our friendship.”
Shaun grimaces, no doubt remembering some of the tense, even angry conversations he’d had on the subject, stretching back to when he first moved to San Jose and argued extensively with Aaron about where he’d be living. Neil had witnessed some of those moments, but Shaun had told him about others.
Shaun runs his finger over the edge of Neil’s note, like it’s something precious and breakable. “We should have talked about this before now.”
“Yes, we should have. Let’s try not to avoid issues like this in the future. I don’t think there’s anything that could get worse by us talking to each other.” Neil runs his hands through his hair with a sigh. “I’m sorry I never brought it up. Like I said, I was afraid it might affect our friendship and… I never want to lose you, that’s the heart of it.”
“We have been afraid of the same thing.”
Neil nods while he thinks about the irony of it: Shaun being afraid to live with him for fear of driving Neil away, while Neil was afraid to ask him for fear of driving Shaun away. (For two people who talk as much as they do, it’s painful to realize this is one of the few discussions they’d avoided until the consequences were too dire to ignore.)
“You’re right, Shaun. As usual.” Neil decides he might as well be brutally honest, because at this point he has nothing left to lose (other than Shaun refusing to live with him, which is still what might happen anyways). “Missing you for the past 18 days has been hell for me, Shaun. I don’t know if I can adequately explain it, but the thought of that forever, knowing there will always be times I can’t reach you…”
“You are asking for yourself.” Shaun’s tone isn’t accusing like Neil might have expected—it sounds more like a moment of revelation to the younger man. “Because it would help you.”
“Yes. A million times yes. And please know I’m not saying this to guilt you or pressure you in any way. This is ultimately your decision. If hearing everything I’ve said tonight hasn’t changed your mind—if you still want to find a place on your own—then I will help you. Every step of the way. But only if you can look at me right now and tell me that living alone is what you honestly prefer. I won’t—I can’t accept any other reason than that.”
“I appreciate the thought and effort you put into this,” Shaun holds up Neil’s list, “but none of these reasons matter to me.”
Neil’s first instinct is to keep reminding Shaun why they should matter…but he holds back. Because that was an odd way to phrase it if he were refusing to live with Neil. (Again.)
“What matters to you, Shaun Murphy?”
“You,” Shaun says simply. “You are what matters to me.”
Neil feels his throat close even as his entire body floods with warmth, amazed by Shaun’s answer—though he really shouldn’t be. How important he is to Shaun has never been a secret. Nor, for that matter, has Shaun’s importance to him been a secret from…well, it seems like the entire world.
“Sounds familiar,” Neil replies, “since my primary concern here is you.”
Shaun looks over the note again before turning his attention back to Neil. “I want to live with you.”
Neil suppresses the surge of elation he feels because there are a few more important things to deal with first. “Are you still worried?” he asks Shaun. “Or afraid?”
Shaun’s quiet for longer than Neil expects. “You want honesty.”
“Always.”
“Yes. To both those things.” He lets out a long, slow breath. “But it’s okay.”
“Yes, it is,” Neil agrees. “I’m nervous, too—not about living with you—but it’s been a long time since I lived with anyone. Change is scary…sometimes terrifying.”
“Without change, nothing can ever get better.”
Neil laughs when he places that piece of wisdom. “Sounds like something a wise man would say.”
“Yes. I just said it.” Shaun’s getting lighter with their banter; Neil hasn’t seen him like this since their weekend at Aaron’s, and the relief is so great his knees might have given out if he’d been standing. This is Shaun as Neil most loves to see him—as happy as he should always be. “I do not know if you convinced me,” Shaun outrageously claims, “I recognized a logical fallacy while you were telling me your reasons.”
“Oh sure, my 75 reasons didn’t convince you, oh nooo, it was Shaun Murphy who recognized a logical fallacy and changed his mind based on that.”
“Accurate,” Shaun says, with a single nod. “I was concerned living with you might drive us further apart. My solution was to enforce distance between us…”
“Which is what you were afraid of in the first place,” Neil finishes. “Astute. Damn it, did you seriously convince yourself? That’s unfair after all the work I put into my list!”
Instead of answering his question, Shaun carefully refolds the note. “No one has done anything like this for me. No one has wanted to live with me…at all.”
“That’s not true. I do. And I want it so much I’ve been struggling for a long time over how to convince you, but Shaun…” Neil has to remind him of what’s most important here. “This should be about you. About what you want.”
“My answer to that has never changed.” Shaun’s staring at the folded paper in his hands. “If I had the option, I would have lived with you from the beginning. I did not think it was possible…for many reasons.” When he looks at Neil again, there’s something pained in his eyes. Close to regret, maybe. They’ve wasted so much time—and for what? “I was wrong.”
Neil knows what it took for Shaun to admit that, and the only thing he can do is reach out for him again. Shaun comes willingly, leaning into Neil and accepting his hug and then hugging him back—and it feels too desperate, considering the circumstances, but given everything they had to go through to get here…
They’ve earned this—every step of the way, they’ve earned it.
“I missed you,” Shaun whispers, words barely there, but Neil feels them as much as hears them. “I missed you, Neil.”
Neil should probably pull away so they can talk easier, but he can’t force himself to let go of Shaun. “I know, and I felt the same, but we’ll miss each other a lot less by living together.”
“Yes,” Shaun quietly agrees. “I want that.”
“And do I get any credit for your breakthrough?” Neil’s aiming for light, not wanting them to get too lost in emotions after how difficult their night has been. “Or are you still going to try and convince me you changed course all on your own?”
“You get some credit,” Shaun allows, as they finally lean back from each other. “Minimal though it may be.”
“Minimal.” Neil scoffs. “You liar.”
Shaun has no answer to that, other than smiling.
They’ll be together all the time.
The thought is surreal, especially after they both feared they were on course to lose each other, possibly for good.
Shaun slips Neil’s list into his pocket. “I am keeping this.”
“Didn’t you tell me, not even ten minutes ago, that those reasons didn’t matter?” Neil challenges.
“They did not convince me to live with you,” Shaun clarifies, “but as I said, l appreciate the effort you put into it. You matter, and you wrote the list.”
Neil reminds himself that he can’t go hugging Shaun for every single thing he says. “You’re as sentimental as I am, Murphy, just admit it.”
“I will not admit it, because such a feat is not possible.”
Neil can’t even argue because Shaun is right—and the younger man is one of the few who sees that side of him…along with, increasingly, their colleagues. The destruction of Neil’s hardened reputation is yet another casualty of his relationship with Shaun. Even a few months ago, the idea of people seeing through his outward facade would have made Neil upset, or even furious, but now…
It’s not important anymore. Every day, the things that are important are becoming more clear, like an out of focus picture slowly sharpening into perfect clarity.
“It’s all you,” Neil accuses, with enough warmth to let Shaun know how much he enjoys it. “You’ve done this to me.”
“You have been like this the entire time I’ve known you,” Shaun insists. “You were better at hiding it.”
“And now I can’t because of you!”
“You are welcome,” Shaun says succinctly. “I want you to be happy, as much as you want the same for me.”
“There’s an easy solution for that.” Neil has no idea how he’s managing to stay flippant when his heart is racing and he’s still filled with warmth from Shaun’s admission—no, from Shaun himself. “If we’re together, you can bet I’m going to be happy.”
“We’re happier together than apart.”
Neil can only nod a few times, suddenly feeling like he wants to cry. (How Shaun does this to him, he will never know.)
Instead of falling headfirst into the emotions threatening to drown him, Neil gets to his feet, putting his hands on his hips as he looks around. He’s eager to put their decision into motion—they’ve spent too much time apart, and if Neil has anything to say about it, they’re never going to repeat that.
“Gather your things, Murphy. Whatever you’ll need until our next day off when we can return and start packing for real.”
Shaun’s still on the couch, looking up at him in faint surprise. “I have three months left on my lease. You want…to move in together…tonight?”
“Yes.” He tilts his head at the confusion crossing Shaun’s face. “You have an objection to that?”
Shaun’s glancing around the room, maybe taking in that this could be the last time he’ll ever officially live at his apartment. “We spend a lot of our time together, but living with each other will still be an adjustment. For both of us. I thought you would prefer to…”
“Take our time?” Neil guesses. “Ease into it?”
“Yes.”
“No easing necessary,” Neil tells him, with a shake of his head. “Not for me.”
When Shaun seems unconvinced, Neil realizes how abrupt this all must seem to him. Maybe he should back off and let Shaun acclimate on his own time, but… Neil will not survive another night without him. He’s feeling a lot more selfish than usual and he doesn’t care about trying to hide it—and besides, trying to hide things from Shaun has always resulted in a lot more turmoil than the situation warranted.
He can’t help thinking back, understanding with the benefit of hindsight that if he and Shaun had this conversation weeks or months ago, they’d be at home together right now, with this type of doubt left long behind them.
“I can’t go back to our empty apartment by myself.” Neil’s honesty is so stark it feels painful. “And I can’t leave you here alone. Don’t ask me to do either of those things.”
“I will go with you tonight,” Shaun promises, as Neil feels the last of his tension start to ebb away. “You are certain you want it to be official…now?”
Neil studies him, wondering at his lingering hesitation, but based on everything he knows about Shaun and his insecurities…
“Yes, I’m certain. My feelings on this are not going to change. We both want to live together, so there’s no reason to wait longer, is there? I know you’re wary because of your past experiences living with people, but none of that applies to us. Nothing will ever change our relationship or the bond we share. The only thing that could change it is if you wanted to change something about us.” He holds his hand out and Shaun takes it, allowing Neil to pull him to his feet. “Do you understand?”
“It sounds like…you would do this with me forever.” Shaun’s staring at their hands, neither of them having dropped the other’s. “That you would never leave me unless I asked you to.”
“You’re right. I’m in your life until you kick me out of it, Shaun Murphy…and even then, I probably wouldn’t go.” Neil meant the last part as a joke, but it sounds too much like an admission.
“I will never ask you to leave.” Shaun sounds more steady than he has all night. “I never want to miss you again.”
“I can’t guarantee that, but I can promise I won’t leave you.”
“Yes, I know.” There’s a growing smile on Shaun’s face. “You said you would marry me.”
“I did.” Neil wants to laugh from the relief surging through him (every time he thinks there can’t possibly be more, Shaun goes and does something else to reassure him). “And that’s another thing we have to talk about, Shaun.” Namely, whether they’re actually going to go through with it.
“Yes, we do.” Shaun surprises him yet again by throwing his arms around Neil, hugging him fiercely, and then he just…stays there. Without letting go.
“But not tonight,” Neil adds, because there’s no way either of them can handle it right now. When he hugs Shaun in return, he idly thinks they might have touched more today than any other day they’ve known each other (barring the few nights they’ve shared the same bed). If Neil has this to look forward to from now on, the future’s looking very bright indeed.
“Later,” Shaun agrees, quiet enough Neil couldn’t have heard him if they weren’t pressed right up against each other. “Thank you. For…being who you are.”
“That’s supposed to be my line to you,” Neil replies, feeling so much affection he’s surprised his heart doesn’t stop from it. It should be too much love to feel for one person, and yet… “My brilliant resident.”
Shaun leans back, searching his face. Neil doesn’t know what he’s looking for—if anything—but he’s surprised when Shaun claims, “I would not be who I am today without you.”
“Shaun…”
“It’s true. I have learned more from you than I did in med school. Textbooks and classes and practicums are easy. Dynamic situations in a city hospital are…another world. I would not make it through without Dr. Glassman and our friends and colleagues…but mostly you.”
“Everything you are is in you.” Neil presses his hand over Shaun’s heart, wanting him to truly listen. “No one else gets credit for that. I might help you along the way, but you’re the only one responsible for the path you’ve chosen, which has been exceedingly difficult for too many reasons. You are amazing, Shaun Murphy. You may be talented and gifted and an outright genius, but you work harder for the things you want than anyone I’ve known, overcoming obstacles that would have cut down anyone else. And everyone sees it, you know. They see how incredible you are and they’re drawn to you. Everywhere you go. You’re like this…shining light, gracing everyone in your orbit. We’re all brighter because of you—me most of all.”
“No one sees the truth of it,” Shaun says, after a moment. “The things you have done for me. The ways you have made my life better.” He rests his fingers lightly on the back of Neil’s hand, where it’s still on his chest. “You do not see it, either.”
“What don’t I see?”
“The way you describe me…” He wraps his hand around Neil’s, but doesn’t try to remove it. “That is how I see you, Neil.”
Neil’s stunned speechless by Shaun’s admission—it doesn’t even matter if it’s true or not (since Neil will never see himself as equal to Shaun’s genius). What matters is that Shaun believes it. He’s telling the truth—sincerity in his eyes and voice and body language—and it’s dizzying to hear that his resident views him in the same way he views Shaun.
Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise because Shaun has never hidden that he has an extremely high opinion of Neil, but even so, he’s never said something like this, turning Neil’s own words back around on him with such devastating effect.
He’d thought Shaun needed to hear it…but maybe Neil needed to hear it more.
“That means…” Neil clears his throat, because no words are adequate, but he has to try. “That means the world for me to hear…you have no idea. Thank you for telling me. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Shaun leans forward minutely, perhaps wanting to impart the importance of his next words. “I will always.”
Neil finally lets his hand drop from Shaun’s chest, but the younger man keeps a hold on him, gripping him tighter. “Right back at you. Always, Shaun.”
Shaun’s smile is as radiant as Neil’s ever seen it—this is Shaun at his happiest and if Neil can keep earning that expression, he might just die as content as he feels right now.
It only hurts a little to step back from Shaun, giving him the freedom to move away and collect whatever he needs to get through the next couple days. (He won’t need much, considering so many of his belongings have wound up at Neil’s place over the past several months.)
For the first time in a long time, Neil’s truly at peace when he thinks about the future laid out before him and Shaun. The specific details don’t matter, not as long as they’re together—forever, if Neil gets his way. (And maybe if Shaun gets his way, too, since he made it pretty clear that he’s not in favor of any future separation, either.)
And now they get to return to the home they officially share with each other.
After tonight, Neil’s absolutely certain that he and Shaun are headed for the same place—which isn’t a physical place at all, really. The where of it doesn’t matter—only that they’re together.
As he watches Shaun circle the apartment, throwing a few things into a duffel bag, Neil’s head clears of any and all thoughts except one. It’s loud and overwhelming and so goddamn bright, as blinding as he finds Shaun’s happiness:
He will never love anyone else the way he loves Shaun Murphy.
“Can we go home?” Shaun asks, as Neil blinks and realizes Shaun is already back at his side, all packed.
“Yes.” Neil closes the distance between them to press a kiss to Shaun’s temple. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 23
Notes:
There I was, mapping out my final ideas for this story, and it turns out there are too many to fit into one chapter...story of my life! So I've changed my plan from a final chapter into a final arc, which will probably be 2 chapters.
Here is part 1 - this is actually 3 shorter scenes, all of which show different aspects of Neil and Shaun's life after they move in together. We still need to see their engagement party and their wedding, which I hope to get to you this summer.
Thank you so much to all readers for your kindness, especially the warm response to my last chapter, it truly inspired me as I've been working on the happy ending to this story. <3 <3 <3
Chapter Text
Neil startles awake, blinking and scanning his bedroom to figure out the cause.
The answer is obvious when he spies Shaun standing in his open doorway, hand still curled into a fist against the frame.
“Your light is on.” Shaun’s hushed voice matches the quiet of the room. “I would have turned it off and left you to sleep, but you do not look comfortable.”
The observation makes Neil suddenly aware that indeed, he isn’t comfortable. He’d slipped halfway down on the pillows propped against the headboard behind him, which left his neck at an awkward angle, and his back isn’t in a great position, either. Futilely rubbing at the sorest spot near the top of his spine, Neil sits up and tries to shake off the last vestiges of a fitful sleep.
The lamp next to his bed is the only illumination in the room, casting it in a dim glow that’s still too bright for having just woken up. The clock on the nightstand shows it’s 1 in the morning, which is alarming because the last time Neil checked it was 11 pm.
“Good call, Murphy.” Neil keeps rubbing his neck, stretching to try and work out some of the knots. “Thanks for waking me.”
Shaun hasn’t moved from the doorway, waiting there as if unsure of his welcome—somehow not having realized, even now, that he’s welcome in every single aspect of Neil’s life.
Wherever Neil Melendez might be, Shaun Murphy has a place right beside him. (Neil would prefer that, actually.)
“Why are you awake in the middle of the night?” Neil asks, while Shaun continues to hover just out of reach.
Shaun’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “Nightmare.”
“Ah, I see.” Neil’s well-acquainted with those himself. “Want to talk about it?”
Shaun tightly shakes his head, giving no verbal response that time.
“Okay.” Neil rubs his eyes and takes a sip of water from the glass on his nightstand. “I was reviewing some patient notes for later this week, must have fallen asleep right in the middle.” His tablet is in his lap, cover still open, and he shuts it with the vague notion he should plug it in to charge…but he really doesn’t want to get up to retrieve the cord that’s fallen on the floor near his bed.
“You should not stay up reading so late,” Shaun scolds, with a hint of disapproval.
“As we can see, I didn’t manage to,” Neil quips.
Shaun’s eyes flick from Neil’s tablet to the charging cable on the floor. “Adequate rest is crucial to remain focused and productive during the day. It becomes even more important as you age.”
“Had to get that jab in there, huh?”
“It is not a jab,” Shaun protests, “it is a fact.”
Neil’s amused despite himself, smile flitting across his face as he studies his resident. He always needs to know how Shaun’s doing, but he’s even more concerned after learning the younger man woke up due to a nightmare—and the more he looks Shaun over, the more he doesn’t like what he sees.
There are dark circles under Shaun’s eyes, apparent even in the low light, which speaks to his current state of exhaustion. His hair is wild and unkempt, most likely from what little sleep he managed before his nightmare. He’s wearing navy sleep pants and a long-sleeved shirt, both of which are Neil’s. (Shaun has a newfound habit of borrowing his clothes and Neil’s getting used to the flare of possessiveness the sight causes in him.)
Shaun pulls at the hem of the shirt, rocking back and forth on his heels. He could be lingering at the door to check that Neil actually goes to bed instead of reading again, but Neil suspects it’s more than that.
Neil finds it ironic that Shaun would be so concerned with him when the toll of the younger man’s sleeplessness is readily apparent. Neil has long been aware that Shaun suffers from occasional nightmares which interrupt his sleep, but never has he seen such stark evidence of it. It grips at his heart, just like every time something bothers Shaun, and Neil’s already thinking of possible ways to help him.
“I’ll work on getting to bed at a more reasonable hour,” Neil tries to appease his resident, “but you might have to enforce it.”
“I do that already.” Shaun crosses the room to plug in Neil’s tablet and arrange it neatly on the nightstand, coming to the correct conclusion that Neil wasn’t going to bother. After a moment of hesitation, he turns and heads for the door. “Goodnight, Neil.”
“Wait.” Neil stops Shaun right before he can slip away and retreat to his own room. “Come back.”
Shaun glances between Neil and the other side of his bed, where he’s pulling down the covers. “Back…over there?”
“That’s usually what ‘come back’ means.” Neil pats the empty side of his bed. “I want to know how you’re doing.” He scans over the exhaustion on Shaun’s face, wishing he could wave a hand and vanish every last trace. “I’m worried about you.”
Shaun relents at that, which might prove Neil’s suspicion that he’d wanted to stay in the first place. They’ve ‘officially’ been living together for a few weeks, not to mention Shaun slept over plenty of times before that, so they’ve crossed paths at all hours…but Shaun had never approached Neil in the middle of the night looking the way he does right now.
Not only does Shaun return to the bed, but he gets under the covers so he can lie down. Neil’s surprised because he thought Shaun might sit with him so they could talk, but his resident apparently has other ideas—not that Neil is opposed, and they’ve shared the same bed enough times that the proximity doesn’t feel anything other than right comfortable.
As a point of fact, having Shaun this close is something Neil has increasingly longed for over the past few months. When he’s restless and can’t sleep and it’s too cold lying alone in his empty bed…his mind always drifts to the perfect solution: Shaun sleeping right beside him.
Neil switches off the lamp, leaving only some faint light from down the hallway to filter into the room. He’s hoping the darkness will help Shaun feel more comfortable talking about his nightmare; it might even encourage him to sleep there, if he were so inclined.
Neil rearranges his pillows and lies down, turning onto his side while his eyes adjust. Soon enough, he can discern Shaun’s profile: he’s lying on his back, covers pulled nearly all the way up, and he’s staring at the ceiling.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired.” Shaun’s exhalation is slow and drawn. “But I am okay. You do not have to worry about me.”
“Yet I always will.” Neil wants to reach out and touch him, wants to move closer and wrap himself around the younger man until their worries disappear and they can both sleep peacefully. “And you have no room to talk, since you worry about me equally as much.”
“You need to be worried about.” Shaun’s tone is matter of fact, but Neil hears the subtle humor within the chastisement. Shaun’s lectures about his health are a normal occurrence and Neil will always love the care and concern his resident eagerly bestows upon him. “You were asleep sitting up. If I had left you like that, how would you feel in the morning?”
Neil grimaces, remembering the many nights he spent like that before Shaun came into his life. He’d gotten so used to taking the easiest routes, to meeting only the bare minimums, to putting everyone and everything else ahead of himself. Shaun is the first person Neil can remember to take such a dedicated interest in his well-being. Not even Jessica had been half as concerned about Neil, trusting his well-practiced explanations and excuses because it was easier for both of them.
Shaun stubbornly refuses to do that—and while Neil likes to protest, they both know how much he appreciates the careful reminders (and outright pushing) from Shaun that have kept him on track in all the areas where he was sorely lacking before.
“Point taken,” Neil says. “I had to get through those notes, but I was exhausted. I shut my eyes for a minute…two hours ago.”
Shaun turns his head, though Neil isn’t certain how much of him Shaun can see in the semi-darkness. “You should not push yourself as much as you do.”
“I want you to consider the irony of you saying that to me.”
Shaun’s probably sending Neil an unimpressed look he can’t see. “I should have checked on you before I went to bed,” he says, more to himself than Neil.
“You make it sound like I need to be watched every hour of the day.”
“I believe you do,” Shaun claims, and it doesn’t even seem like he’s joking.
“Well, feel free to check in with me anytime, for any reason. My door’s always open to you. At work or at home.”
Shaun hums quietly. “…Anytime?”
“Yes, you’re welcome to visit—and lecture me—whenever you choose. Even at 1 in the morning.”
“I do not lecture you, I remind you of your priorities.”
“Like getting enough sleep?”
“Yes.” Shaun’s voice sounds lighter, perhaps relieved Neil is taking him seriously. “Like getting enough sleep for your age.”
Neil laughs at his predictable resident. “Thank you, Shaun.” He tries to examine him again when Shaun turns on his side to fully face him, but it’s simply too dark to get a good read. “Are you really okay? I know you have nightmares once in a while, but has it been getting worse?”
Shaun shrugs under the covers. “Some weeks I don’t have any, but other weeks I have one almost every night.”
“How many over the past week?”
“Four.”
Neil breathes out slowly, not expecting such a high number. “Do you think they’re being triggered by something?”
“I do not know.” Shaun sounds completely lost, and it gets Neil shifting closer—he hates it when Shaun feels that way. “They might not have a cause.”
“Talking about them might help,” Neil suggests. When Shaun remains conspicuously silent, Neil decides to open up about his own struggles. “I get nightmares, too. I don’t like to dwell on them. Maybe I’m a hypocrite, asking you to talk about yours when I rarely talk about mine.”
He can sense Shaun’s interest in the way he tilts his head, hair rustling on the pillow as he moves. “Did you ever tell anyone about them?”
“Only Jessica knows, unavoidably, because I accidentally woke her up a few times, but when I’d try to explain…it made her uncomfortable. She could sympathize, but she’s not a doctor, so she couldn’t really understand. Then she’d feel bad for me… It was easier to make excuses to avoid talking about it.”
Shaun doesn’t hesitate when he offers, “You can tell me.”
For the first time, maybe ever, Neil actually feels like he can. If anyone could relate to the worst experiences of being a surgeon, it’d be Shaun—his resident is right there with him for a lot of it, facing down the exact same things.
“I’ve had nightmares my entire life,” Neil slowly begins, “stretching back to childhood, so I know they can be a long-term battle. But the ones when I was younger are no longer the issue. The nightmares changed after I became a surgeon.”
“Did they get worse?”
“Yes, from the pressure, I think. The weight of so much responsibility.”
“You always handle that well,” Shaun protests, with unhappy denial. “You are the most capable physician at our hospital.”
“I’m honored, as always, to hear you hold me in such high esteem,” Neil tells him, as his heart swells with affection. “You’re right that I’m adept at handling stressful situations, mostly due to my residents—” He grins when Shaun huffs in amused indignation, like he’d hoped. “—and I’m sure you’re dying to point out I have decades of practice, but as you know…our field requires a lot from us. And it takes quite a toll.”
“It does.” Shaun’s quiet affirmation is heavy with the weight of firsthand knowledge. Neil reaches over to find Shaun’s hand and sets his own over it. “What are your nightmares about?”
Neil swallows when unexpected pain lances through him. “All the people I couldn’t save.”
It’s Neil’s calling to be a surgeon—there’s literally nothing else he’d rather do with his life—but he can’t deny the burden of it, either. He holds people’s lives in his hands every day, and while he excels at his profession, sometimes it’s not enough. There will always be patients he can’t help, people he’ll have to watch die while under his care… It’s a hard but necessary truth for everyone in their field to accept.
“Yes.” Shaun turns his hand over so he can hold onto Neil, in return. “I understand.”
“Are your nightmares about the same thing?”
Shaun’s pause is long, but his breathing is even, so Neil patiently waits.
“Sometimes,” he finally answers. “Not lately.”
“What are they about lately?”
Shaun’s quiet again for an unusually long time. Neil edges closer to him, itching to hold onto him, to comfort him, more than just holding his hand. He’s accepted that compulsion will never go away when it comes to Shaun.
Neil is entirely unprepared when his resident speaks again, voice barely a whisper:
“You.”
An icy dread settles in Neil’s chest. “Me? What am I doing?”
“You…” Shaun hesitates, like it’s painful to speak, and Neil realizes his answer is going to hurt. “You…leave me.”
Neil’s head swims at that revelation, feeling like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. It’s a relief that Shaun isn’t afraid of some nightmare version of himself, but it’s profoundly painful to hear he’s been dreaming about losing Neil—and repeatedly, at that.
Neil holds his hand that much tighter. “Can you tell me more?”
“You disappear in different ways.” Shaun’s sigh is low and drawn out, like he’s letting go of a weight, while at the same time forcing himself to face something he’d give anything to avoid (a feeling which Neil knows intimately). “Sometimes, you…you end this and kick me out. Sometimes you act like we never knew each other. But tonight was the worst version.” Shaun draws another breath, the slight hitch alerting Neil to the fact that if he’s not crying, he’s dangerously close. “You died and…I could not save you. I can never save you.”
“You are wrong,” Neil says vehemently, too loud for the quiet spell that’s fallen over his bedroom, but he doesn’t care. Shaun makes a soft sound, sort of a muffled whimper, like he’s trying to smother his emotions, and Neil pulls him closer by their still joined hands. The vise around his heart lessens when Shaun moves forward without protest, curling up right at his side. “You have saved me in more ways than I could ever count, Shaun Murphy.”
Shaun takes a few shaky breaths as he tucks his head under Neil’s, his face pressed against the top of Neil’s chest. “…I have?”
“Yes, you have. My life… God, I can’t imagine what it would be like without you.” Neil rearranges the covers around them while Shaun makes a valiant effort to control his breathing and keep his tears at bay. “How empty and—and miserable I would be if I’d never met you. Or if we hadn’t become as close as we are. I need you, Shaun. For so many reasons.”
“I feel the same.” Shaun’s voice wavers as he wipes at his eyes.
“That could explain your recent nightmares.” Neil turns onto his back and tugs Shaun even closer, arranging them so Shaun is half-draped on him and he can pull his resident into a hug. “We’re living together now, but you still harbor the worry that it could drive us further apart. It’s natural that your mind is trying to deal with the worst case, ‘what if’ scenarios that could separate us.”
“I hate it,” Shaun breathes, so quietly that Neil barely hears him.
Neil hugs him more tightly, briefly imagining if he had to experience the opposite nightmares—the awful idea of Shaun walking away from him or pretending Neil was a stranger. Or the absolute worst: watching Shaun die over and over in his dreams. Neil honestly doesn’t think he could bear it.
“I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this.” If Neil had any idea, he would have pushed Shaun to talk about it long before now. “I only wish you’d told me sooner.”
“My nightmares are not your problem.”
“Mine aren’t yours, but you still wanted to listen.”
“I wanted to help.”
“Exactly.” While Shaun contemplates that, Neil adds, very clearly, “Everything that hurts you is my problem.” Shaun doesn’t reply, but Neil remembers the way he looked standing in his doorway. “Is that why you came to my room? To see for yourself that I was okay?”
“…Yes.” Shaun sets a hand over Neil’s heart. “Tonight is the first time I found you asleep while sitting up.”
Neil hates everything that implies. “You’ve done this before.”
“There are times…I want to see you. After a nightmare is one of those times.”
And Neil hadn’t known.
Which is completely unacceptable.
“I’m going to turn my earlier offer into a request,” he tells Shaun. “I’d like you to come see me if you need something or if you’re upset. You’re welcome to visit—and sleep here—anytime you want.”
“I do not want to wake you.”
“It’s fine if you do. I’d prefer it, actually, to you struggling alone.” Neil runs a hand through Shaun’s hair when he makes a sound of agreement. “Remember when I was trying to convince you to move in? I told you how I used to drive myself crazy some nights, thinking of times like this, and how much I hated the idea of not being there for you. It’s one of the main reasons I wanted us to live together.” Neil takes a moment to bask in how right he’d been—how much they’d needed this, even when they hadn’t yet realized it. “So we could see each other whenever we wanted.”
“That is my favorite part.”
Shaun’s simple and heartfelt admission makes Neil’s throat ache with too much emotion. He runs a hand down Shaun’s back, feeling his resident relax more against him. “Mine, too.”
Shaun twists his head so he can look at Neil, even in the darkness. “Does anything help your nightmares?”
“I haven’t found much, aside from talking about them, but it’s been a long time since I confided in anyone except you.” Like so much else, Neil’s nightmares were something he pushed away to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing concerns. “I try to remember that no matter how terrifying they are, those types of dreams aren’t real and never will be.” When Shaun hums softly and settles back down against him, Neil asks, “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, you always help. With everything.”
Neil feels his heart clench again, this time at the knowledge he’s doing everything he can for Shaun. “Good, that’s all I ever want.”
“Being here…” Shaun trails off, falling silent, and Neil just keeps rubbing his back, appreciating the warmth and comfort of having Shaun with him. He wonders if the younger man might be drifting back to sleep, but then he speaks again. “Thank you for wanting to live with me. For…convincing me. It was possible.”
“Thank you for agreeing,” Neil says, seriously. He can’t help teasing when he adds, “Even if you made it as difficult for me as you possibly could.”
“I had valid concerns,” Shaun says indignantly, as Neil laughs into his hair. “But you helped alleviate them.”
“It’s better this way, isn’t it?”
“Everything’s better when we’re together.”
Neil hums in pleased agreement, taking another deep breath of Shaun’s scent—crisp and clean and smelling like the shampoo and conditioner Neil keeps stocked in the bathrooms. “I meant it when I said my door’s always open. At work or at home, any time of day or night.”
“I feel the same way,” Shaun offers, making Neil hug him that much tighter. “I like helping you. And I like being close to you.”
“You don’t say?” Neil kisses the top of his head to prove his point.
Shaun’s laughter is light, such a far cry from the misery enveloping him when he first woke Neil. “Yes, but only you. No one else.”
“Right back at you, Murphy.”
Shaun murmurs something quietly, relaxing more against Neil and making no move to pull away. Neil’s more than fine with that, letting himself relax, too. The feeling of Shaun pressed into his side, a comforting weight in the darkness of his room, is doing wonders to help lull him towards sleep that he knows will be a lot more restful than when he’s alone.
It comes as a surprise when—quite some time after he thought Shaun had fallen asleep—the younger man tilts his head back and presses his mouth between Neil’s neck and jaw, in a gentle kiss that lingers.
“I love you,” Shaun whispers, the words lightly tickling with the way his lips are still pressed to Neil’s skin.
Neil wonders if Shaun thought him asleep, but whether he did or not, Neil can’t let that stand without a response. “I love you more.”
He feels Shaun’s mouth turn up into a smile and it’s the last thing Neil registers before he falls asleep.
Neil stretches out on his couch, legs resting on the ottoman he’d pulled closer, aimlessly flipping through TV show options on Netflix. He wants something mindless, but as usual, has a hard time deciding.
Shaun saves him the trouble when he comes to collapse at his side, waving his tablet at Neil in greeting. “Are you busy?”
“Do I look busy?”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
Neil’s mouth quirks into a smile. He wants to press a kiss of greeting to Shaun’s cheek, but it’d probably be strange since they’ve been home together all day. He settles for reaching up to lightly brush his thumb over Shaun’s face, pushing a strand of wayward hair back from his forehead. The move makes Shaun’s smile even brighter.
“I’m not busy,” Neil says, more straightforward, because if he isn’t clear then Shaun will be reluctant to interrupt him. (As if Neil wouldn’t happily let Shaun interrupt literally anything he might have been doing.) “I was looking for something to watch, but nothing jumps out at me.”
“I want to watch the newest episode of 9-1-1: Golden State later,” Shaun informs him. “An earthquake caused a volcano to erupt in the middle of San Francisco. They need to rescue a group of people stuck on the subway.”
“Wasn’t that exact plotline made into like five movies in the 90’s?” Neil muses.
“I would not know,” Shaun claims, failing to hide the type of amusement that means a punchline is coming. “I was too young.”
“Ha ha.” Neil makes a show of rolling his eyes. “And I was ancient, yes. Just for that, I’m making you watch them all with me.”
“Okay.” Shaun’s voice never loses any of its excited lilt, betraying that he enjoys spending time with Neil in any capacity, even as supposed ‘punishment’. “But for now,” he holds up his tablet again, “I want to go over this with you.”
Neil takes the proffered iPad, scanning the doc Shaun has pulled up—it’s a guest list for the dinner party they’re planning to celebrate their engagement. Typically, such a party would be thrown for them by a close friend, or arranged at a restaurant, but Shaun will always be most comfortable at home where he can control everything, so that’s their plan. (And just like every time Neil remembers that he and Shaun share a home together, he feels a bursting swell of happiness.)
“Do we really need a guest list?” Neil reads through it, stopping at the last name on the list—an addition Shaun had never mentioned to him. “Are you serious?”
“You know he’s moving back to San Jose. Dr. Glassman rehired him two weeks ago.”
“But that doesn’t mean we need Kalu at our dinner party.” Neil taps pointedly on the screen. “The rest of the list is bad enough, and those are our friends.”
“Jared is my friend,” Shaun says simply. “He could be your friend, too.”
“He takes credit for our relationship,” Neil counters, a touch too darkly.
The idea rankles him, still, that Jared Kalu lives under the fantasy notion that if it weren’t for his advice to Shaun in the early years of their acquaintance, he and Neil might never have gotten together. (Or pretended to have gotten together. Whatever.) The point is Kalu might have inadvertently influenced a few things, but Neil and Shaun would have been drawn to each other even without him.
“Do you know what he told Morgan?” Neil might be getting too worked up. “That his crucial relationship advice led to us discovering our compatibility and eternal love. That’s a direct quote!”
When Morgan had gleefully relayed it to Neil, he’d wanted to throttle the other man all the more. (Which was probably why Morgan told Neil in the first place…she really does hang out too much with Audrey Lim—who will coincidentally be Kalu’s new boss.)
“He can claim whatever credit he wants.” Shaun’s voice is soothing and overly diplomatic. “But that does not make it true.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Neil just can’t let it go—as if Kalu would ever see something Shaun needed before Neil saw it. “He’s delusional.”
Shaun slides closer until his knee is resting against Neil’s leg. It’s no longer unusual for them to sit closely, often touching in some way, but Shaun isn’t usually this deliberate about it. “Our relationship is about you and me,” Shaun says calmly, paraphrasing what Neil has often told him. “No one else. Jared Kalu has nothing to do with us.”
“No.” Neil pins Shaun with a heated look. “He doesn’t.”
That’s when it hits Neil with a jolt—he’s jealous.
He’s jealous over the idea that Shaun and Jared might share some intimate connection he’d missed. That maybe it really had been Jared who got Shaun to consider Neil in any way that went beyond the carefully appropriate friendship they’d shared at the time. And that Jared still maintains a close relationship with Shaun, to the point that not even a move three states away had broken it.
(Not that he wants Shaun to lose any of his friends, all of whom are precious to him, but of all people, why did he have to keep up a long-term friendship with Jared Kalu?!)
“You know that Jared only confirmed what I already thought about you. He is a good judge of character.”
Neil scoffs at the complimentary tactic, but he’s smiling through his annoyance. “Manipulative, Murphy.”
“If he comes to the dinner, you could explain to him why he is wrong.”
Neil takes a moment to marvel at how well Shaun knows him. “You seriously do not play fair.”
“I am offering a logical solution to your problem,” Shaun claims, as if he doesn’t have this magical way of getting right through to Neil. “You should talk to Jared about how he viewed our relationship in the beginning. You would understand him better.”
“Why must you always be mature and rational?” Neil groans, accepting this had been a losing battle from the beginning.
“One of us has to be.”
“Again, hilarious.” Though Neil can’t deny he might look forward to hearing Jared’s actual take on their relationship—and correcting his former resident when he gets it wrong. (Neil would take great pleasure in putting Jared Kalu in his place, once and for all.)
“I was not joking,” Shaun claims, as Neil glares at him for it. “Does that mean you approve of my final guest list?”
Neil fights really hard not to laugh, because once again his resident has played him perfectly, and he’s not even annoyed. (How Shaun keeps him from getting upset about things is something Neil will never understand.)
“Fine, he’s allowed to come…not that you needed my approval to invite him.”
“Yes, I did,” Shaun counters. “I do not want anyone in our home that you do not want here.”
Neil needs a moment to replay that in his head, trying to tamp down on his emotions (he’d always considered himself a rather stoic man until Shaun came along and blew up his entire worldview). “You’re too damn sweet, you know that?”
“You have told me,” Shaun says brightly, swiping the doc until a food menu appears underneath the guest list. “What do you think?”
Neil reads through what Shaun intends to make—appetizers, a salad, main entrees, side dishes, desserts—and mentally calculates the time and toll it will take on him.
“No,” Neil decides, with a shake of his head. “I know you enjoy cooking, but we’re inviting too many people for that, even if you let me help you. Let’s have the meal catered—we’ll pick one of our favorite restaurants and guests can order whatever they choose. Everyone’s happy.”
Shaun frowns a little, eyes dropping back to his well-planned menu. “I will be fine.”
“You won’t be fine,” Neil gently argues. “This would demand hours of cooking the day of the party, not to mention that you’d have to prep several days before. You’ll be tired and that isn’t fair when you should be relaxed and able to enjoy yourself.” He can tell Shaun is still going to protest, self-sacrificing as he loves to be, so Neil tries to get ahead of it. “Let’s compromise: we’ll cater the dinner, but prepare dessert together. And if you still want to cook dinner for our friends, we can invite them over later—just fewer people at a time.”
Shaun sighs with a curt nod. “That is an acceptable alternative.”
Neil nudges his shoulder, which makes Shaun lean into his side. “Sound less thrilled about it, hmm?”
“You know I appreciate a logical argument,” Shaun relents, as Neil flips the cover to the iPad and sets it aside. “You are right. I do not want to spend hours cooking before the party.”
“Repeat that, Murphy.”
“I do not want to spend hours—”
“No, the part where I’m right,” Neil complains, as if Shaun isn’t doing this on purpose.
Shaun laughs, giving himself away. “Do you realize your compromise means we will be hosting dinners more often?”
“Never mind, Murphy. I take back everything I said.”
“You are lying.” Shaun sounds so damn happy about it that Neil sets an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer.
“Not lying, teasing,” Neil corrects. “I don’t make offers I don’t mean.” He mulls over some of the people Shaun might want to invite over in the future, his thoughts stopping on Marcus and his wife. Knowing Shaun, that will happen at some point, since he’s forever trying to iron out their issues (and truthfully, the thought of Shaun lecturing their boss on his behavior would be both heartwarming and entertaining). “Invite whoever you want, just give me advance notice in case I need to prepare.”
Shaun nods in the affirmative, sending Neil a quick, excited glance. “Do you want to hear the rest of my plan for our dinner?”
“There’s more?” Neil’s about to grab the iPad, but Shaun stops him by sitting up and turning so he can face Neil directly.
“I did not write this down.” His smile is growing, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s a secret, but I believe you should know. You cannot tell anyone.”
Neil’s overly suspicious now; this must have something to do with the residents. “What are you scheming?”
“I do not scheme,” Shaun protests. “I address issues which need to be addressed.”
“Well, that’s delightfully vague.”
Shaun is struggling to contain his glee. “The issue is Alex and Morgan.”
Neil knew it—every level of chaos in his life has a direct line back to the residents in some way. “Shaun, no.”
“Yes.”
“Shaun.”
“Neil.”
He narrows his eyes at the way Shaun’s mimicking his tone. “What are you planning?”
“They will not admit their feelings,” Shaun says, like it’s an egregious sin. “They are lying. To everyone.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Promise you will not interfere.”
“It sounds like you’re the one interfering.” When Shaun shows no sign of giving in, Neil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. What am I not interfering with?”
“Jared and Carly.”
“Wait, you’re setting them up, too?” Neil briefly wonders what his life has become and when he began to enjoy it so much (it might have coincided with Shaun joining their hospital). “Have you officially started a matchmaking service?”
“No!” Shaun exclaims, through surprised laughter. “I am not setting them up, they are part of the plan. Jared is going to show romantic interest in Morgan and Carly will express romantic interest in Alex. Morgan and Alex will become jealous and reveal their true feelings for each other.”
“This is sounding dangerously close to a romantic comedy plot.”
“Neil, be serious,” Shaun chastises, like Neil is the crazy one here.
“You’re fine perpetrating that kind of ruse on them?”
“It is for their own good.” Shaun’s entirely unconcerned with the ethics of it all. “It will help them. Once they realize they share the same feelings, they will have no more excuses to remain apart.”
“It might not turn out the way you think,” Neil has to warn. “You never know how people will react. They might not get jealous. Or they might hide it—they could be really good actors.” (Neil has long had his suspicions, for a variety of reasons.)
“Those are possibilities,” Shaun allows. “But it has a significant chance of working as we expect.”
“Who’s this ‘we’?”
“Claire, Jared, Carly, and myself.”
“You managed to drag Claire into this fiasco?”
“I told her we had to do something about Alex and Morgan. She agreed and came up with the idea of making them jealous.”
It’s not surprising that Shaun is their ringleader, but Neil really must have lost control if Claire Browne, his longtime most rational resident, had conjured this latest ill-conceived plot. She used to be able to talk her fellow residents out of things like this—and barring that, Neil would be the one to step in, ordering them to cease and desist with whatever was threatening to backfire on them.
It’s possible Neil has gone around the bend as much as Claire because his first instinct isn’t to stop them, either. He leans back into the sofa cushions, searching Shaun’s face while imagining every possible outcome of the residents’ scheme (as much as Shaun hates to call it that, it’s the most apt description).
Neil would be fine with watching Morgan squirm, though he wonders if Alex is even capable of such a feeling (if so, Neil has never seen it). It’s unlikely Morgan or Alex would get angry over some harmless flirtation, whether they learned their friends were behind it or not. With the hilarious luck of the residents, their targets would probably find the attention flattering and everyone would go home sorely disappointed at not accomplishing what they hoped for.
That said, emotions can be volatile and Neil knows there’s always the potential for things to go south when trying to meddle with people’s lives—especially their love lives.
“How would you feel if someone pulled a similar stunt with us?”
Shaun hums in denial of the question. “They would not dare. People are too afraid of you.”
Neil smirks at that because it’s true. “Fine then, what if Alex or Morgan get upset? They’re resourceful—they could get revenge in creative ways.”
“Morgan wants your support to advance her career and Alex respects you too much. They would not cross you.”
Neil can’t deny that logic, either. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. For any reason.”
“Our friends would not hurt me.” Shaun pauses with a peculiar look on his face. “If they did accidentally, you would stop them.”
“Let me get this straight: you don’t believe there will be any negative fall-out, but if there is, I get to protect you from it.”
“It is a sound contingency plan.”
“Well, I can’t argue that.” The truth is that Neil will protect Shaun from everyone and everything, as he deems necessary. And every single person in their life knows it.
The hopeful expression on Shaun’s face tugs at Neil’s heart. “You will not tell Alex or Morgan?”
As if Neil could deny Shaun anything—this is yet more proof that his judgement becomes especially convoluted where this particular resident is concerned.
“I won’t tell them,” he agrees (and it might be worth it just for the blinding smile Shaun gives him). “If you truly think this will get the results you want, then go ahead. But be prepared in case things go awry.”
“I am not concerned.” Shaun’s awfully pleased now that Neil has given his tacit approval. “Alex and Morgan deserve to be happy.”
“I think they are.”
“They could be more happy,” Shaun says, earnestly. “You are right that I should start a matchmaking service.”
“Is that what I said?” Neil jokes, knowing that his resident has a knack for hearing what he wants (a trait they happen to share).
“I am a good matchmaker.” Shaun’s tone is lightly challenging. “I set up Debbie and Dr. Glassman.”
“Which has worked out beautifully, I’ll give you that.”
A thoughtful look crosses Shaun’s face as he stares off towards the window. “You also suggested I set up Jared and Carly—”
“I did no such thing!”
“They are both single,” Shaun continues, as if Neil hadn’t spoken. “They might bond while discussing their plans for how best to approach Alex and Morgan.”
Neil groans loudly as he tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “What have I agreed to let happen under my watch?”
“You do not have to worry.” Shaun slides over on the couch so he can make himself comfortable again, right next to Neil. “Jared says our plan cannot fail.”
“Oh, sure,” Neil scoffs through his laughter, “with Kalu’s guarantee, what could go wrong?”
“He said the only potential problem is if Morgan decides she likes him more than Alex. He said his charm is…‘a weapon he often cannot control’.”
“I can’t believe he’s moving back here,” Neil complains into Shaun’s shoulder, and then an even worse thought strikes him. “Can you imagine the horror of him and Reznick becoming a couple?”
Neil has a newly alarming motivation to get Alex and Morgan together: he would never survive the pairing of Morgan Reznick and Jared Kalu. A lot of the time, it’s Alex’s mitigating responses to Morgan’s aggravating nature that keeps Neil from losing it on her (that and Shaun showing up out of nowhere—his resident has the uncanny sense to stay close when Neil’s overly stressed and Morgan’s extra infuriating).
“Jared and Morgan will not end up together,” Shaun promises.
“We are never allowing that,” Neil agrees. For everyone’s sanity.
“They do not belong with each other. Alex and Morgan do.”
“And Jared and Carly?” Neil wonders if he should warn Carly ahead of time…or if just maybe her sweet and patient nature might rub off on Kalu and make him more bearable.
Shaun seems to be contemplating right along with him. “That remains to be seen.”
“I’m surprised you got Carly on board, she’s not usually involved in the chaos you residents bring everywhere.”
“Jared convinced her.” Shaun is frowning at Neil in a way that means he’s in for a lecture. “I would never be involved in chaos. My interventions are based on empirical evidence and have over a 90% chance of success. I would not attempt them otherwise.”
As usual, Neil finds himself fascinated with an inner glimpse of the way Shaun’s mind works. “How do you calculate the chance of success?”
“I do the math,” Shaun says, like Neil should have known that already. “There is no universal formula. There are different variables to take into account for each scenario.”
“So this plan to get Alex and Morgan together by making them jealous has over a 90% chance of working?”
“92.7%, to be precise.”
“But there’s still a 7.3% chance it won’t get the results you want.”
Shaun won’t be deterred. “In which case we would have to think of another plan.”
“Is there anyone we know whose romantic lives you haven’t gotten involved in?”
“Lea and Claire met their boyfriends on their own,” Shaun answers, taking Neil’s question seriously enough that he can’t help smiling at the younger man with fondness. “I have not set up Dr. Lim with anyone.” He tilts his head in thought. “Do you know any single men I could invite to our dinner?”
“None that could hold up against her charming style of abrasiveness,” Neil says dryly. “Let’s take it one potentially disastrous ruse at a time, please.” He softens the words with a brush of his fingers over Shaun’s arm, which makes his resident lean into him with a contented sigh.
Neil still has reservations, but they’re a lot harder to think about with Shaun’s warmth at his side. The younger man has proven himself right on so many things…why not this, too? Shaun certainly knows Alex and Morgan better than Neil does, so maybe he’s onto something. Neil will obligingly play the role of supervisor—a role which he couldn’t step away from even if he tried—and do his best to keep a handle on the residents.
(At this rate, if Alex and Morgan still won’t get a clue, Neil might just scream at them until they figure it out—he wasn’t kidding when he swore he was never letting Reznick and Kalu have even the slightest chance of happening.)
Neil idly wonders what else Shaun might have done behind the scenes since the first day he arrived at St. Bonaventure and made himself such an integral part of their lives.
Addressing issues which need to be addressed.
It’s suitably vague and could cover…anything, really.
Neil has half a mind to ask Shaun more about it, but…he’d rather let it go for now. Shaun will volunteer more information if he chooses, but most importantly, Neil trusts him. If Shaun sees a need to ‘intervene’ in the lives of people they know, there must be a good reason for it—whether he succeeds or not.
He sets an arm around Shaun’s shoulders just to encourage him to stay (and not leave Neil to go do something productive). “Anything else I should know before the dinner?”
“Nothing right now. I will let you know if that changes.”
“Then it’s my turn.” Neil turns to look at him, wanting Shaun to see how serious he is. “I have two rules for our dinner: you listen to yourself and you listen to me. The night is supposed to be about us, so you should be enjoying yourself. If you’re too tired or need to step away for a break, then you will. If I decide the evening needs to end, then it does. I don’t want you arguing with me if I make that call.”
Shaun studies Neil, his expression fond. “Okay.”
“That was much quicker agreement than I expected.”
“You know me,” Shaun says, like it’s just that simple. “I trust you.”
Neil presses a kiss to his temple, unexpectedly moved. Shaun trusts him to protect him. He’d outright said it earlier, that Neil would protect him from other people, and now he’s proving he trusts Neil to protect him from the situation, if necessary. Shaun is less likely to become overwhelmed at their dinner party than at a work event or anything involving a crowd, but it’s always a possibility. To know that Shaun has no fear of it, that he’d listen to Neil without question in such a situation…it fills Neil with an undeniable sense of warmth—and a feeling that things are exactly as they should be.
“Good,” Neil says belatedly. “Because I only have your best interests in mind.”
“I know,” Shaun easily agrees.
“I think all that’s left to do is find a date that works for everyone and decide where to order food—both of which should wait until we’ve talked to our guests.”
Shaun nods in agreement. “Thank you for going over everything with me.”
“Of course.” Neil pauses when Shaun leans in to brush a kiss near his ear, skin tingling when his resident pulls away. Neil has a sudden flashback to the tentative kiss Shaun had given him a week earlier, after he’d had a nightmare and came to see Neil in the middle of the night.
They’ve spent every night together since, usually talking for a while before they fall asleep. Shaun has only had one nightmare in that time span, a significant decrease from the previous week, and that was reason enough for Neil to suggest they keep sleeping in the same bed for the foreseeable future. (Shaun had agreed so quickly that Neil wondered if he’d been hoping for that in the first place.)
Their closeness has increased exponentially since they moved in together—and for the most part, it hasn’t been Neil pushing for it. Shaun is the one who seeks him out, whether moving closer at night, or sitting with Neil on the couch, or touching him more openly at the hospital. Neil has welcomed Shaun’s desire for more intimacy with open arms—both figuratively and literally.
Neil’s usual pattern with Shaun is holding true: the more of Shaun he gets, the more he wants. Sometimes it’s all Neil can do not to drag Shaun into a hug and never let him go.
Neil brushes his fingers over the spot Shaun just kissed. He considers asking him about it, but the younger man’s attention is firmly fixed on the smart TV where he’s switching through apps on screen. Neil isn’t sure if Shaun is avoiding a discussion or if he truly thinks nothing of what he did, but as he ponders…he decides it doesn’t matter.
Neil had been determined to let Shaun move things at his own pace when it came to their relationship, and he’s still committed to that. Shaun has proven that he’s not shy in talking about his feelings or asking for what he wants—their increasing intimacy in the past month is proof enough.
“Do you want to watch 9-1-1?” Shaun interrupts his musing, though Neil finds the question a little late since Shaun hadn’t asked until after he hit play on the latest episode.
“Sure…though I’m guessing I don’t have a choice?”
“You always have a choice,” Shaun informs him. “I will let you know if you make the wrong one.”
Neil laughs and sinks down further into the couch, unsurprised when Shaun automatically follows and resituates himself comfortably at his side. Neil pulls down a blanket from the back of the couch, which Shaun helps drape over both of them, and they settle in to watch one of Shaun’s favorite shows—which Neil can admit is fast becoming one of his favorites, too. (The way Shaun eagerly picks apart the implausible storylines never fails to entertain Neil more than the show itself.)
“Prepare yourself for a volcano disaster movie marathon next time I wrestle the remote away from you.”
“I look forward to it,” Shaun claims, and not even three minutes later he’s pointing out ridiculous plot holes in the newest 9-1-1 episode.
It’s by far the most enjoyable way of watching TV that Neil has found in 40-something years.
Neil stifles a yawn behind his hand while Andrews drones on and on and on.
They’re at meeting #187 (or so it feels) of the event planning committee, and he’s wondering yet again why he thought this would be a good idea—but that’s when Shaun excitedly interrupts Andrews to mention that he’d befriended a possible new benefactor the prior week. Neil watches his resident fill Marcus in about the uncle of one of their young patients, a wealthy man eager to express his gratitude to the hospital and doctors who saved his niece’s life.
Shaun’s unbridled enthusiasm during these meetings eases Neil’s suffering like nothing else. Andrews, predictably, showers Shaun with all sorts of praise, causing Shaun to turn faintly pink and insist he’s only doing his job.
“More money means less people die,” Shaun reminds them, while Neil notices a few people around the room mouthing it along with him. Shaun’s oft-repeated mantra has been picked up by some of their colleagues, a simple and meaningful reminder of why they’d dedicated their lives to medicine in the first place—and why the monetary aspect of their jobs is just as important as patient care itself.
Neil’s annoyance with the planning committee (specifically) and Marcus Andrews (in general) fades away in the face of Shaun’s commitment to their hospital and the obvious joy he finds in an activity Neil has never truly understood: planning things. (No one can bond over something so dull the way Shaun and Marcus can—they even gang up to lecture him when he describes it that way.)
In their original deal with Marcus, Neil and Shaun agreed to remain on the event planning committee for a minimum of two months, which would give them enough time to plan the spring fundraiser. Since the committee arranges virtually every important event their hospital puts on, Neil had known better than to agree to anything permanent. (Shaun Murphy is the only person who gets that kind of commitment from him.)
Predictably, it hadn’t taken long for Marcus to start pestering them about joining ‘for the long haul’. Their boss had been suitably impressed at their success in planning the upcoming May fundraiser in a short amount of time, with virtually no issues. Their efforts have been directed in large part by Shaun, with back-up from Neil (who immensely enjoys delegating tasks to everyone else on the committee as he sees fit). Marcus, meanwhile, ‘runs’ the meetings but mostly just listens to their ideas and then gives final approval to go ahead and implement them.
As the weeks passed, interest in the planning committee exploded—due, in no small part, to the outrageously embellished stories that Morgan spreads around the hospital…
Such as how Neil takes unnatural joy in kicking people off the committee for not doing their jobs (three so far, each one justified).
Or the way he and Marcus regularly spar over how much work he and Shaun take on (Shaun always insists he’s fine, but Neil has learned the telltale signs which betray when he isn’t).
Morgan’s absolute favorite, though, is to spin tales about Neil and Shaun’s ‘unbearably romantic nature’ (which, as always, are simply their normal interactions).
All of that is why Andrews had to create a waitlist for staff members who requested to join. (Being too popular is an issue suffered by no other committee at their hospital, many of which have members who were coerced into accepting as part of their duties, or who served in order to look good while angling for different positions and promotions.)
Andrews is smart enough to know why his beloved planning committee is so popular—hence his pleas to keep them. Neil and Shaun had discussed his proposal and ultimately agreed, but Neil was never one to let an opportunity pass, so he’d renegotiated their deal with Marcus. They’ll remain on the committee as long as Shaun chooses to serve, and in return, their boss will continue splitting extra duties more evenly among the other surgical staff. He also promised to respect Shaun’s boundaries and not take a ‘no’ as a ‘maybe I’ll do it if you badger me for long enough’.
(That goes for everyone, actually. Badgering Shaun is explicitly no longer allowed—a rule created and enforced by Neil.)
It might be Morgan who benefits the most from the ongoing arrangement, as she happily accepts many of Andrews’ tasks and directives, eager to make a name for herself and network among their larger community. She often drags Alex along with her, and while he likes to complain about it, his actions tell the story of a man who consistently chooses to be at Morgan’s side.
Like right now, where Alex is in the seat next to Morgan, the ‘we swear we’re not a couple!’ sitting directly across the table from Neil and Shaun.
It once would have been impossible, but Neil finds himself looking forward to his and Shaun’s engagement dinner more every day—he can’t wait to see how Morgan and Alex react to the residents’ scheme to get them to admit their feelings, if only so they can end this too-long charade.
And if it all goes wrong, of which there’s apparently a 7.3% chance, Neil will be there to manage the fall-out.
But that’s a problem for Neil’s future self. The problem for his current self is this never-ending meeting.
Neil’s tired from a long shift and the only thing he wants in this world is to go home with Shaun. He wants it so much that he starts daydreaming about it. He could haul Murphy out of his seat, right in the middle of Marcus’s latest self-congratulatory spiel, and push his resident out the door while the rest of the room watched in astonishment. Andrews would be upset, no doubt, shouting some caustic remark after them about how ‘apparently the meeting ends when Neil Melendez says it ends!’ And God knows the man’s outrage has only ever been more reason for Neil to do something…
He barely registers when Andrews, Shaun, and a few others begin discussing an upcoming event Andrews wants to throw in appreciation of their most generous benefactors. Shaun suggests a retreat instead of their typical honorary dinner and Marcus starts fawning all over him for it.
“What an inspired and unique way to show our donors we care about their contributions!” Marcus praises, as Shaun fails to hide how pleased he is at the recognition. “These are the kinds of ideas I’d welcome from all of you,” their boss adds, with a smirking glance in Neil’s direction.
Neil rolls his eyes in response, mulling over which acerbic comeback to toss out, but that’s when Shaun slides his chair closer so he can brush his arm against Neil’s. All Neil can do is smile over at his resident, his minor irritation with Andrews vanishing into the ether.
“We could personalize the experience for each guest,” Shaun adds, as Marcus begins raving about how that is also an amazing idea.
“It might be nice in theory, but it would turn into a logistical nightmare,” someone else says, dampening the enthusiasm of the room and immediately getting Neil’s attention.
Neil recognizes the young resident, Nick Brennan, as a relative newcomer to their hospital. He’d joined their oncology department a few months earlier and Neil only knows him because Shaun regularly briefs (and quizzes) him on the other committee members.
“How so?” Andrews demands, annoyed but also open-minded enough to hear the other man out (and that’s a change, too, because a couple years ago Marcus would have cut down anyone who dared to openly challenge one of his favored ideas, especially in front of other people).
“Think of the number of people involved,” Brennan continues, more confident now that he has the floor and everyone’s attention. “A retreat would be a lot more expensive than a dinner, since you’ll have to cater to each guest’s needs. It will also be next to impossible to arrange the schedules of everyone you want to invite.”
Marcus waves off the criticism in a clear dismissal. “They’ll make time if they want to come. We’d certainly make it worth their while.”
“We could arrange an alternative event for invitees who could not attend,” Shaun suggests, striving for diplomacy in a way Neil has gotten used to—and loves beyond measure. (And of course his resident would propose a solution that involves planning another event.)
“I’m telling you, it will never work,” Brennan insists, annoyance creeping into his tone while he sends Shaun a disapproving look that makes Neil bristle. “We did something similar at my last hospital and countless things went wrong—”
“We are not your last hospital,” Shaun interrupts, meaning it as a logical counterargument, but Brennan must take it the wrong way, if his glare at Shaun is any indication.
“It’s settled,” Marcus says with finality, breaking through the growing buzz of voices around them. “We’ll arrange a retreat. Thank you, Shaun.”
“It’s a wonderful idea,” Neil chimes in, complete with a brilliant smile for his resident.
Brennan mutters something about how easy it is to earn favoritism by sleeping with the boss, looking resentfully at Shaun all the while, and Neil feels his blood start to boil under his skin.
It’s rare when they come across people who misunderstand their relationship, but it happens, and Neil always takes vicious satisfaction in setting them straight. It’s perfect timing, too, since he has a room full of witnesses for his unhinged, yet professional response. The entire hospital will have heard about it by tomorrow morning, with Morgan crafting the most exaggerated version (and for once, he won’t even mind).
Neil ignores Marcus who has already moved onto another topic and seems oblivious to the growing tension taking over the room. He turns in his chair to stare down Brennan, who begins shifting uncomfortably once he notices Neil’s eyes on him.
“What did you say?” Neil asks quietly, his tone causing a newfound hush to settle over the people nearest them.
“What?” Brennan tries his best to look innocent. “I didn’t say anything.”
“No, please, repeat it louder.” Neil folds his hands, setting them on the conference table in front of him. “I want everyone to hear your enlightened opinion.”
Brennan is the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide and surprised as he looks around in growing panic, starting to understand that several people aside from Neil had also heard him, and no one is on his side. Shaun inspires a unique level of protectiveness among their colleagues, especially the ones with whom he’s closest, and Neil will happily exploit it to make his point today.
“So you have no problem sharing your thoughts on Dr. Murphy, but you’re too afraid to repeat them loud enough for your bosses to hear?” Neil flicks his eyes between Marcus and Amanda Collins, the Head of Oncology. Both administrators are now watching the scene play out with narrowed eyes.
For all his issues with Neil, Marcus Andrews has never once tried to stop him when it comes to defending Shaun Murphy (intelligent man their boss is).
“What’s the problem over there?” Marcus demands.
“We all heard you,” Morgan tells Brennan, while Alex taps his fingers on the table in a disconcertingly scary way. “You don’t realize the gravity of the mistake you’re making.”
“What, so Murphy’s immune to criticism now?” Brennan snaps in embarrassed anger, and in a moment of monumental stupidity, he doubles down. “Just because he’s playing teacher’s pet—or should I say surgeon’s pet—”
“Dr. Brennan!” Andrews says in sharp warning, appalled at his insulting outburst. The rest of the room is now silent, everyone transfixed by the scene before them with a mix of shocked surprise, fascination, and horror.
“Get out,” Neil hisses, with a barely controlled leash on his rage. “You’re off this committee and I’m going to recommend Dr. Murphy file an official complaint against you.”
“Of course you are,” Brennan scoffs. “That’s easier than confronting reality, isn’t it? You love acting like you have all the power here, you and Murphy both, and you’ve been doing it for months.”
“But we do have power here.” Shaun seems more confused than anything else. “Dr. Andrews appointed me as lead chair on this committee and Dr. Melendez is second, but the entire group votes on every issue. Your characterization of how this committee runs is inaccurate and unfair.”
“Once again, you’re hiding behind committee rules and ignoring the real issue, which is that you always get your way—and everyone in this room knows why!”
“How about you come out and say why?” Morgan taunts, and when Brennan turns his sneer on her, Neil has the sneaking suspicion that not only is she trying to draw his ire away from them, but she’s trying to bait the man into saying something he can’t come back from. “Spit it out, Nick—unless you’re too much of a coward?”
The younger man draws himself up further, unwilling or unable to back down from her blatant challenge. “He gets what he wants because he’s screwing his boss!”
Gasps resound throughout the room, followed by a stunned silence, everyone in collective disbelief that Brennan would actually be self-destructive enough to make such a hostile and inflammatory accusation out loud. Now there’s absolutely no way for him to escape this situation unscathed, judging by the darkening expressions worn by both Andrews and Collins. Morgan’s smirking in triumph, and there’s a glimmer of satisfaction on Alex’s face when he nudges her arm, but his eyes are still on Brennan, as cold as Neil is certain his own must be.
By the grace of God—or maybe Shaun Murphy—Neil manages to contain his fury. It’s only because Shaun is right next to him that he doesn’t curse the man out, with a punch thrown in at the end for good measure. Any reaction when he’s this incensed would carry the risk of causing Neil a lot of professional grief, and while he could easily (and happily) take the consequences if it came to that, Shaun would be downright miserable if Neil suffered any punishment for defending him (though Neil still wonders if it’d be worth punching Brennan just to satisfy his anger—surely Alex would help him get out of assault charges, right?).
Thankfully, it’s Shaun who finds his voice first. “Your accusations are provably false,” he says sharply, the tenseness of his shoulders giving away how upset he is at hearing the sorts of accusations which have never been true.
Even before they were ‘together’, Neil had always felt an overwhelming amount of affection for his resident, but he’s been careful not to let that influence his professional decisions—and it’s not like Shaun would let him even if he tried, since the younger man’s unfailing honesty means he calls Neil out for things which aren’t even favoritism, but might only give the appearance of it. (For some reason, Neil’s standard comeback of ‘but you are my favorite!’ never earns him points with his exceedingly honest resident.)
Shaun has more than enough talent, passion, and drive to succeed on his own. Neil has been very careful to never take his resident’s hard-earned accomplishments away from him, either by claiming the credit or stepping in to help when it wasn’t needed. But standing with Shaun is by no means improper, unethical, or—most importantly—against hospital rules.
Neil’s grateful for the few moments to calm down. It helps him keep his tone even, determined to pull Brennan’s attention away from Shaun. “I suggest you remove yourself from this room before I have security throw you out of the building.”
The plan works when Brennan rounds on Neil again, his outrage growing alongside Neil’s (and the rest of their colleagues, judging by a quick glance). “Oh please! You can’t do that.” He scans the conference room for anyone who might agree with him, but they’re all purposefully silent, and the lack of support only enrages the man further. “He can’t do that!”
“Underestimate what I’m capable of at your own peril.” Neil distantly wonders where the line is for ‘unhinged, yet professional’… He might be crossing over into just plain ‘unhinged’, but that’s the least of his concerns. “You do not want to make an enemy out of me…though unfortunately for you, it might be too late for that.”
“You’re corrupt!” Brennan actually stands up to viciously point at him, as if they’re in some sort of television drama and he imagines Neil to be this week’s villain. “You and Murphy get whatever the hell you want, because…why? Am I supposed to believe your lives are just that charmed? And everyone pretends not to see it because they’re either delusional from hero worship or terrified of you—” He falters, maybe remembering some of the reasons why people are afraid of Neil. “But…I’m not.”
Neil’s cold smirk says, very clearly, that he should be. “It sounds like you’re jealous of benefits we have earned based on our contributions to this hospital. But if you honestly believe you have a case against me or Dr. Murphy, you’re welcome to bring your complaints to the board.”
“So they can rule unanimously in your favor because of whatever dirt you have on them? If anyone deserves to be thrown out of the building, it’s you.”
“Do not talk to him like that.” Shaun isn’t quite yelling, but his feelings are bleeding into his tone. “Dr. Melendez could work anywhere in the world he chooses, but he wants to be here. He has dedicated his skills and expertise to St. Bonaventure and our patients are lucky to have him on staff. There is no evidence to the contrary because it does not exist.”
“Thank you, Shaun, but it’s okay.” In a reversal of their usual roles, Neil rests a hand on his arm, hoping the reassuring contact will help both of them calm down. “Let him keep digging his own grave.”
“It is not okay,” Shaun heatedly argues, his anger betraying how upset he’s becoming. “He is wrong to disrespect you that way.” Shaun gets to his feet so he can better stare down Brennan at the other end of the table. “I would no longer work with you even if Dr. Melendez did not kick you off the committee. Leave now—you have no right to be here.”
“How dare you,” Brennan’s clinging to his anger and indignation like it’s all he has left, “I have every right—”
“Enough!” Andrews slams his hands on the table, making almost the entire room startle in surprise—the notable exceptions are Neil and Alex, neither of whom take their eyes off Brennan (and Park is still tapping his fingers as if this is a run-of-the-mill meeting and nothing to be concerned about). “Dr. Brennan, your false allegations are a disgrace and more of an aspersion on my character than on my subordinates, given your insinuation that I would allow unethical activities to occur without noticing—or worse, with my approval.” When Brennan pales at the dressing down, Andrews brings down the hammer. “Consider your future career carefully and how much you’re willing to jeopardize it by saying another word.”
“Heed the warning from Dr. Andrews.” Amanda Collins sounds coolly professional even as she eyes Brennan with something close to contempt. “Your behavior is outrageous, out of line, and unbecoming of any staff member at this hospital. Not only are you removed from this committee, but you’ll be facing a disciplinary hearing for your conduct today. Go cool off while thinking long and hard about your actions and whether they were worth it. We’ll be having a discussion later tonight—and you better hope that I have cooled off by then, as well.” When he continues to stand there, breathing heavily, she adds with a cold note of finality, “You are dismissed.”
Brennan seems like he wants to keep arguing, but loses his nerve when he scans the rest of the room only to be met with a sea of condemnation from unfriendly faces. Maybe it’s dawning on him how futile the whole thing was, since if he truly believed Neil somehow controlled the board (yeah right, Neil wishes), there would be nothing to gain by calling Neil out on it. Brennan only succeeded in causing himself severe reputational damage, and once the harsh reality sinks in, he gathers his things in a huff and storms out.
“Dr. Murphy, Dr. Melendez.” Collins glances between them, as apologetic as Neil has ever seen her. “I want to apologize on behalf of the hospital. Neither of you deserve to be treated with such disrespect. Dr. Brennan will be dealt with accordingly, I assure you. I welcome both of you to file complaints which will be taken into account at his hearing.” When they nod, she turns back to Andrews. “I think it’s best if we dismiss this meeting early, Marcus.”
“Agreed,” Andrews says, trying to hide a grimace while he looks around, remembering they have a room full of witnesses. “Meeting adjourned—Murphy and Melendez, hang back a moment.”
The rest of the committee members slowly collect their belongings and file out, with more than a few apologies and words of support from their colleagues as they leave. Morgan is the last to go, lingering reluctantly by the door, but a meaningful look from Neil gets her to follow Park out of the room.
“I’m as angry as both of you,” Andrews tells them, once the glass door falls shut. “I should have kicked him out sooner. I was so appalled by what he was saying—”
“It is not your fault,” Shaun interjects. “We appreciate your defense of us,” he adds, as Neil nods curtly in agreement, still working to keep a hold on his temper.
“I’m outraged by Brennan’s unprofessional behavior,” Andrews continues, “and I’m sorry you had to deal with it. He’ll be officially reprimanded and I’m going to recommend a suspension at his hearing.”
“I’d be happier if he got fired,” Neil puts in, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair. His suggestion isn’t that far-fetched, either. Not only does most of their hospital strongly favor Shaun, but the board has an ongoing love affair with him that gets him virtually anything he wants. (Come to think of it, if Brennan had directed his jealousy and ire towards the board for their favorable treatment of Shaun, he might have had a much better leg to stand on—though he equally would have gotten nowhere in the end.)
Marcus doesn’t bother arguing with Neil, for once, which is proof he agrees. Instead, their boss turns back to Shaun, who remains standing stiffly next to the table until Neil takes his wrist and pulls him back into the seat beside him.
“Are there any prior issues between you that I should know about?” Andrews asks them.
Neil shrugs. “I barely knew he existed.”
Shaun’s slowly shaking his head. “I am not aware of anything, but I suspected he did not like me.”
Neil and Marcus exchange a confused glance, neither of them having any clue what Shaun’s talking about.
“Has he said or done anything specific?” Neil beats their boss to the question, hoping Shaun hasn’t been hiding anything in a misguided attempt at handling things on his own. “Disrespected you in any way?”
“He has not said anything, but he usually makes a point of ignoring my presence, even when I speak to him directly.”
Andrews scowls at that, disliking the answer as much as Neil. “He’ll be warned to stay away from you going forward. I assume you’re both going to file complaints?” When they nod at their boss, he gives them an encouraging smile that’s just this side of too grim (at least he’s making an effort). “Those can wait until tomorrow. I want you both to go home and try to shake this off. Rest assured that his opinions are not shared by anyone I know. Inform me immediately if anything else happens with him.”
“We will,” Neil says, as Shaun murmurs his agreement, too.
Andrews gives one final nod, apology clear on his face, and stalks out of the room, leaving Neil and Shaun as the last ones left. Neil can spot Morgan hanging out in the hallway behind the glass doors, no doubt waiting to pounce on them the moment they leave, but he ignores her for the moment.
Neil turns Shaun’s chair so they’re facing each other. “That was an unexpected—and enraging—end to our evening.”
Shaun’s much more subdued than Neil ever likes to see. “I have not been that furious in a long time.”
“Your anger is completely justified.” The clipped annoyance in Neil’s tone gives away only a small portion of his feelings towards Brennan. “He has no right to go after anyone the way he did, let alone you.”
Shaun blinks at him in apparent confusion. “I am not upset over what he said to me. I am angry because of what he said about you.”
For a moment, Neil can’t comprehend what Shaun’s telling him. “But his insinuations about you were terrible and he deserves every condemnation—”
“Yes, but… I do not care,” Shaun says, forcefully. “His opinion about me is irrelevant, but for him to make those claims about you in front of our colleagues and our bosses is abhorrent.”
Not for the first time, Neil thinks about how he truly doesn’t deserve Shaun Murphy—will never deserve him, really, and he can only thank whatever trick of the universe brought them together and earned him the respect of the best person he’s ever known.
“If it helps, no one in this room believed a word he said.” Neil isn’t naïve enough to think no one at their hospital has ever had similar suspicions, but he personally knows everyone on their committee and considers many of them to be actual friends (and after their disgusted reactions to Brennan, he feels it now more than ever). When Shaun doesn’t seem at all convinced, Neil tries to lighten the mood by adding, “And if any of them did feel the same, they’re smart enough to never voice it out loud. Especially after that scene.”
Unsurprisingly, his joke doesn’t land with Shaun—his resident is never easily calmed when he’s upset on Neil’s behalf. (And Neil can’t even blame him, because the feeling is mutual, if not even stronger, when it happens the other way around.)
“He maligned your character.” Shaun is working to keep his voice even. “His claims were disrespectful, disparaging, and untrue.” He takes a deep breath, clasping his hands and meeting Neil’s eyes. “I will not forgive him for that.”
“You don’t have to.” Neil hooks his foot around the bottom of Shaun’s chair to drag it closer. “You might have already figured out that I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he never bothers us again.”
Shaun doesn’t need it explained to him any further, especially after Neil laid out his true opinion to their boss. “You are going to try and get him fired.”
Neil won’t deny it—he wants Shaun to know the lengths he’ll go to protect him, if necessary. There’s only one exception to that rule… “Any protests about that?”
Shaun silently shakes his head and a dark smile crosses Neil’s face.
“It’s settled then.” His resident’s implicit permission is all Neil needed to put his plan into motion. “Nick Brennan crossed the wrong people today.”
“Enjoy your revenge.” For the first time since before Brennan’s outburst, Shaun gives Neil a careful smile in return. “He has earned it.”
“He sure has.” Neil leans forward, searching Shaun’s face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I am feeling much calmer.” Shaun surprises Neil by leaning in to brush a kiss over the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
“You are very welcome.”
Neil might have said more—might even have moved forward to give Shaun a kiss in return—but that’s when Morgan bursts into the room.
“I can’t take it anymore!” Her voice is frantic and shrill as they simultaneously turn in their chairs to face her. “Can you tear yourselves away from each other long enough to tell me what Andrews said?!”
Neil rolls his eyes at her theatrics, but decides to humor her. It was her machinations, after all, which led to Brennan revealing the full extent of his hostility and resentment. Without her patented ability to invoke anger in those around her, he and Shaun might still have no idea they were working alongside someone who harbored such ill intent towards them.
“Andrews has our backs, he’s going to recommend a suspension.”
“Suspension!” Her outrage on their behalf is heartwarming in a way that would have surprised Neil a few months ago, but now it’s par for the course (and something for which he and Shaun are truly grateful). “Brennan deserves to be fired.”
“We agree on that front.” Neil swivels idly in his chair, mind spinning while he plots his next steps. “I don’t think he’s long for our hospital.”
“He better not be,” she angrily agrees. “Alex is going to look into his background. An outburst like that in a room full of his colleagues and his boss? I guarantee you this is not some isolated incident. I bet the guy has a shady history, remember how he talked about his last hospital? I know he left halfway through his residency there, which is suspicious—I’m willing to bet he didn’t leave voluntarily.”
“You’re probably onto something, but don’t concern yourself with him,” Neil warns. “You and Alex shouldn’t put yourselves at risk over this. I have it under control.”
Her scathing look is beyond unimpressed. “You must be crazy if you think we’d let this go. He’s not getting away with what he said to you.” She shifts her eyes back to Shaun. “Either of you.”
“We appreciate that,” Shaun says, staving off any further arguments from Neil. “Please thank Alex for us, too.”
Morgan and Shaun both look to Neil for further guidance and he relents with a wave of his hand. There’s little that will deter his residents once they’ve made up their minds about something, so he might as well be gracious instead of lecturing Morgan any further.
“Be careful,” he sternly orders. “Don’t do anything stupid that could come back on you, Reznick. That goes for Park, too.”
“I’ll tell him you don’t want him to act stupid,” she says sweetly, as Neil mutters some of his typical grievances about ‘impossible residents’. “You don’t have to worry, sir. We only want a back-up plan in place. You know…in case you don’t succeed at getting rid of him yourself.”
Neil’s a lot smarter than Brennan—he refuses to take her bait, suppressing a smile as he points at the door behind her. “Go home, Reznick.”
“Gladly, sir. Have a good night—and remember, these doors are glass… As in, people can see right through them.” She gives them a wink and a dramatic spin before sauntering out of the room.
Shaun’s eyes dart from Neil, to the doors, then back again. “What does she think people might see?”
“Don’t go down that path,” Neil’s voice holds a hint of pleading he can’t erase, a result of his lifelong exasperation with Morgan Reznick—he might have only known her for two years, but it feels like she’s always been at the hospital, irritating him in every possible way. (If she does anything to jeopardize Shaun’s growing comfort with showing him affection, he’s going to enact creative revenge on her, as well.) “She was trying to get a reaction out of us. This is my routine reminder to ignore everything she says about relationships.”
Shaun’s eyes widen when he realizes, a few moments too late, what she meant. “She saw me kiss you.” He seems worried now. “I should not have done that at the hospital.”
“Shaun, it’s fine.” Neil sets his hands on the arms of Shaun’s chair, making sure he has the younger man’s full attention before he continues, “We can act however we want. Everyone knows we’re engaged.”
Shaun thinks about that for a minute before he nods in confirmation. “You are right.”
“When am I not?”
“I can list numerous instances—”
“That was rhetorical,” Neil stresses, as Shaun acts innocent (when they both know he’s not). “My point is that for as long as we’ve known each other, we’ve never let other people come between us. There’s no need to start now.”
Shaun’s face brightens at Neil’s reassurance. “I agree with you.”
“Now it’s my turn to thank you.” Neil finally gives in to his urge to lean in and press a kiss at the corner of Shaun’s mouth, exactly as the younger man had done to him. “I loved your passionate defense of me.”
“You have earned it.” Shaun’s smiling brilliantly at him, the faintest tinge of color evident on his cheeks. “A thousand times over.”
Neil breathes slowly as he searches Shaun’s face, allowing himself to feel the weight of the younger man’s appreciation and love for him. Knowing how and why Shaun feels that way, all the moments they’ve shared together, the bond they’ve forged, the life they’ve built…
Neil’s answer to the question ‘What most fulfills you?’ used to be his successful career as a surgeon. And while that will always be the reason he believes he was put on this planet, his answer about what most fulfills him has changed over the past two years.
Now, it’s his connection with Shaun which fulfills Neil on the deepest level…deeper, even, than he’d known was possible before they met. There is nothing he would not do for Shaun Murphy—and Brennan is going to learn that the hard way if he doesn’t know it already.
“What a day this has been,” Neil says, mostly to himself, and starts packing up his belongings while Shaun does the same.
“Yes,” Shaun agrees, latching his satchel as he stands, “but it will get better soon.”
“Oh yeah?” Neil teases, like he has no idea what Shaun is driving at—like this isn’t a game they’ve been playing ever since Shaun moved in with him a month ago. “And why is that?”
“Because we’re going home.”
“Together,” Neil adds sternly, because that’s the most crucial part.
“Yes, Neil.” Shaun’s mouth twitches with a smile he can never fully hide when they talk about their living arrangements—still brand new, but as natural as if they’ve been sharing the same home for years. “I thought that part was understood.”
“Yeah, but…” When Shaun holds out his hand to help Neil up, Neil instead uses it to pull him a few steps closer. “I like hearing it.”
Shaun’s looking down at him, about to reply, but then his gaze strays back to the door—the transparent door Morgan had casually warned them about, for good reason. Several of their colleagues are visible out in the hallway beyond, hanging around while doing nothing in a highly suspicious manner.
Neil would laugh but he expects this kind of thing by now.
“Morgan was correct,” Shaun says quietly, about to move a step back, but Neil very adamantly won’t let him go. “People can see us.”
“I don’t care.” Neil slowly and deliberately lifts Shaun’s hand so he can kiss the back of it. “Let them watch us. We have nothing to hide, remember?”
Shaun’s face is turning slightly pink again at Neil’s purposeful display of affection, but he doesn’t try to pull away. Instead, he finally succeeds in helping Neil to his feet, which leaves them standing close as they look at each other.
Neil feels himself relaxing from the warmth in Shaun’s eyes. “Ready to go home?”
Shaun’s relief is apparent, leaning into Neil while he graces him with a soft smile. “Yes.”
When they finally exit the conference room, their co-workers scatter to the wind, melting back into the fabric of the hospital as if no one was doing a poor job of spying on them only moments before. Neil appreciates their attempt at normalcy and he’s even more grateful that no one stops them as they wind their way through the corridors.
Even though they make it to the main lobby without a single interruption, Neil notices a lot more inquiring and curious glances than they usually get. Neil had guessed the news of their confrontation with Brennan would spread quickly (even without giving Morgan time to fan the flames of gossip, as is her specialty), but he has to admit it’s surprising just how quickly everyone seems to have learned about it.
It’s no secret that many of their colleagues—as Shaun loves to remind him with unrestrained delight—are afraid of Neil. There’s no doubt it’s been reinforced after what happened at their meeting, as proven by the fact that even with the obvious interest in them, no one dares to approach.
But Neil should have known better than to jinx himself—as soon as the hospital doors shut behind him and Shaun, Claire materializes out of nowhere, falling into step beside Neil.
As if she’d been lying in wait.
“Dr. Melendez, Dr. Murphy,” she politely greets them. “What a lovely eve-”
“Just say what you want to say,” Neil cuts her off, because he really wants to get home and he doesn’t need to be delayed for another 20 minutes.
Claire falters at his abrupt tone. “I…don’t know what…”
“You’re here to spy, admit it.”
Now she’s straightening up in indignation. “If by ‘spy’ you mean check in with my friends to make sure they’re okay…”
“Oh sure, hide it under the guise of consideration,” Neil jokes, his words already having lost their bite. Claire is by far the most empathetic of their co-workers and Neil really hadn’t meant to take his frustration over their evening out on her.
“I heard what happened,” she says without preamble, confirming Neil’s suspicion. “Are you okay?”
“We are fine,” Shaun tells her.
“You’re sure?” Claire is studying them, worry etched across her face. “Morgan said it got pretty heated during the committee meeting.”
“I can only imagine the tale Reznick spun,” Neil groans. “You know she has a flair for dramatics, so tone down what she said by about half—no, make it 90%—and you’ll have a much better idea of what actually happened.”
“She said you guys got into a screaming match with Nick Brennan? I don’t know him well, but he seems like a real piece of work.”
Neil scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”
“The news is everywhere—I heard about it from three people in addition to Morgan.”
“It happened less than a half hour ago!” Despite his disbelief, Neil can’t resist the opportunity to hear some of the gossip about him and Shaun without having to rely on Morgan’s general inability to tell a tale she hasn’t thoroughly embellished. “What’s the rumor mill saying this time?”
“That Brennan made some wild and untrue accusations, so you lost it on him, then Shaun lost it on him, then Andrews and Collins let him have it. Betting odds are that he’ll resign or be fired within the month.”
“They think it’ll take a whole month?” Neil gently nudges Shaun’s side, which gets the younger man to lean into him. “I must be losing my edge.”
“So it’s true.” Claire drops her voice. “You’re going to make sure he’s gone?”
“If I have anything to say about it.”
“I hope you know how much everyone supports you,” Claire tells them. “Our department will back you no matter what, and based on what I’ve heard, most everyone else feels the same, too.”
“That’s reassuring to hear,” Neil says, with a glance at Shaun. The younger man has mostly stayed out of the conversation, but from the pleased look on his face, he’s as happy as Neil to hear about their colleagues’ support. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful for your concern, but let’s talk more about this tomorrow. We’ve had a long day.”
“Oh, right!” She laughs a little, self-conscious about having ambushed them while they were trying to leave. “Sorry, I’ll let you go home.”
“Together,” Shaun supplies, with a knowing glance at Neil.
Claire frowns in confusion. “I thought…that was implied?”
“Neil likes to hear it,” Shaun explains, as Neil’s laughter quietly echoes in the courtyard around them.
“Okay…” Her smile is slightly lost, but it’s genuine. “Have a good night.”
Neil and Shaun politely return the sentiment before finally taking their leave (or ‘escaping to freedom’ as Neil mutters in Shaun’s ear, not quite low enough for Claire to miss).
When they link arms with each other, Claire’s mouth curves into a grin, and she watches them walk away until they’re long out of sight.
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