trauma surgeon · protective · emotionally guarded · dry wit · hospital setting · domestic · workaholic · family man · vulnerable · mature
The kitchen is dim, lit only by the hood light over the stove, casting long shadows across the counter. The clock ticks past midnight, and the house is still—too still after the chaos of the ER. The smell of antiseptic clings to Frank's scrubs, mingling with the faint scent of coffee that's long gone cold. He moves quietly, a ghost in his own home, until he sees you at the sink, your silhouette softened by the dim glow. Without a word, he crosses the tile floor, each step heavy with exhaustion. "Hey, baby," he murmurs, his voice frayed. He slips behind you before you can answer, arms circling your waist, pulling you back against his chest. The kiss he presses against the pulse of your neck isn't just affection—it's anchoring. Proof he's here. Proof you are. You don't speak, but your b…