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Steak

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There's something to be said about how often Anson finds himself smiling lately, mostly to himself and with no apparent cause.

Except, of course, he knows why. 

Today, the catalyst for the flush in his cheeks stems from a single sticky note carefully pasted to the inside of his locker door:

See you at 5. Can't wait :)  

LCO

The man has decently tidy handwriting for a doctor, Anson notes with a low chuckle.

4:47 PM

He slips out of his scrubs and into his regular clothes, relieved to no longer be reeking of antiseptic cleaning detergent and cheap vending machine coffee, then chucks the pale blue material into the staff laundry basket. Barely having finished buttoning up his jeans, he hears the locker room door swing open; a firm pair of arms slink around his naked waist, and eager lips tease at the nape of his neck, gently nibbling.

"It's not like you to be early," Anson sighs into the touch.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait any longer," the gentle voice whispers smoothly in his ear.

Anson spins around, his upper half still bare, and pretends to shirk away at the tickling sensation that still ghosts at his shoulder. 

"You're shameless," he says almost breathlessly, because the other man is close enough to hear it.

Anson takes in the handsome face that's looking back at him with immense adoration; large, kind eyes and a tall nose bridge on which a pair of gold-framed glasses sit. He sneaks a careful glance around the otherwise empty room before tilting his head forward in a furtive kiss. Sweet, lingering and washing his entire body with a tidal wave of warmth, Anson sighs against Edan's lips, hands pulling at the starch-white material of his coat. 

He'd been looking forward to this all week, his entire body blushing to match the festering seafood allergy rash that had appeared in the emergency room waiting area when he'd come in at the start of his shift. Edan had sent him multiple texts of a philandering nature from across the cafeteria, all under the watchful eye of Joyce, who'd been on her break from the nurses' station as the resident surgeon had sipped on his coffee in such a sultry manner that she'd almost felt she should excuse herself. 

I'm...really happy, Anson had told her when she'd cornered him in the break room with her queries. And she'd believed his meek confession, not having ever seen him in such a good mood in the three years she'd known him. 

"Are you ready to leave yet?" the doctor plants one more kiss on Anson's mouth before pulling back. 

"Almost," Anson rubs the back of his neck, pink as steak. "I just need to put a shirt on."

"No, leave it," Edan places a warm hand on his smooth chest. "I like you like this."

"That's inappropriate conduct, Dr. Lui." 

He tuts with a laugh, then pulls the white T-shirt over his head as Edan shrugs off his coat and pulls his lanyard over his head. 

They'd had far friskier encounters within the walls of the hospital, especially after a successful surgery during which they would have to employ incredible self-control and concentrate on mending the insides of whichever body laid on the table that day. 

Tonight, though, Edan has taken due advantage of their shifts ending at the same time, inviting Anson over for dinner and…perhaps more? It would undoubtedly be a pleasant change from sweating and groaning into the lumpy mattress of the on-call room's squeaky bottom bunk, trying to stay as quiet as humanly possible until one of their pagers inevitably start sounding. Of course, they would have bigger fish to fry if they continued their shifts still so slick with their desire that someone would certainly sniff their activity on them without a shower.

It's been three months since Edan had finally worked up the guts to buy Anson a coffee during a break, which had eventually led to a stolen kiss in the elevator, followed by a longer rendezvous in an empty examination room. 

They slip past the all-knowing eyes of their colleagues, Anson rolling his eyes when one of the other anaesthesiologists, Stanley, wolf-whistles after them down the corridor, a smatter of laughter echoing in response. 

Only when they step out into the parking lot does Edan slip his hand into Anson's, exchanging a fond smile with him before leading him to his car. Anson has been inside the sleek five-seater before, although it's never actually set into gear, and as Edan puts the key into ignition and pulls out of the hospital car park, they settle into a comfortable quiet.

Anson's silently buzzing with nerves, although he thinks it's silly. Edan inviting him over to his place feels like a new stage in their — well, funnily enough, they'd never actually talked about what their exact relationship was. 

"So…you can cook?" he says quietly, mainly for the sake of saying something.

"Of course," Edan smirks, fiddling with the air conditioning vent on the dashboard. "Kidding; I mostly just pile a bunch of things into a slow cooker and press a few buttons. I've never made myself sick, if that reassures you."

"Still. I'm…excited about tonight." 

He smiles into his hand, leaning his elbow against the windowsill as he averts Edan's gaze. 

"Well, don't get your hopes up too much; I'm actually very meat-and-potatoes."

"Right," Anson snorts. "Like the Italian leather in this car."

"It's a simple colour," Edan muses, gesturing vaguely at the sleek, black material. They don't have it half bad, as far as bringing home the bacon goes.

They spend the rest of the drive chatting comfortably about something or other that had happened in the ward that week, the conversation only dwindling down when the car's headlights shine on a large wooden gate that begins sliding open when Edan hits a button on a remote controller that's tucked away in the door handle. As they pull into the driveway—yes, a driveway—Anson notes the lavish, modern construction, a far cry from many of the other simple village blocks he'd seen along the way. 

"Meat-and-potatoes, huh?"

"It's—" Edan starts, but then yields. "It was my parents' house. I just live here."

"Okay, okay."

As the car shifts itself into place, Anson raises a curious eyebrow at the multiple large, white freezers lined up along the side of the garage, each bolted shut with a large padlock. Before he gets the chance to ask, though, Edan has scurried over to the other side to open the door for him. He rolls his eyes at the corny gesture, but takes the doctor's hand anyway as he steps down from the passenger seat. 

"I," Edan walks him backwards by both hands into the main living area, the lights flickering on automatically to reveal a warmly decorated space. "Am so glad you're here."

The sound of the garage door can be heard behind them, sharply closing like a cleaver to a butcher's block. Anson smiles, allowing himself to be walked around the corner of the kitchen door, from which he sniffs the aroma of something cooking.

"It actually smells good."

"Doesn't it? And it'll be ready soon," Edan pulls them towards the living room, ignoring the man's amused roll of the eyes and instead guiding Anson to sit on the large grey sofa, then sliding himself into the man's lap and straddling his hips in such a fashion that can only mean one thing. "In the meantime…"

They waste not even a second, their kisses smooth and heated and travelling southwards, Edan's breath harsh against Anson's neck, licking, gently gnawing, then soothing with his tongue again to leave searing flushes of pink on pale skin.

This is perhaps Edan's favourite part of their routine, covering every inch of Anson's body with devoted attention, sometimes nipping the skin between his teeth and grazing it to leave an impressive rash that Anson always complains about, but arches into all the same. 

The doctor's affection leaves Anson with a warm buzz in his chest, feeling unquestionably cared for and unabashedly attractive, and Anson finds himself in awe of how genuinely happy he is, how it almost seems too good to be true that they'd met. 

He has the beginnings of an arousal, trailing a hand down Edan's front to reach the button of his pants, when three insistent beeps sound from the kitchen. Pulling apart with a quiet wet noise, Anson tilts his head back to glide their noses together as they collect their breaths.

"That's dinner," Edan says against his mouth. "I guess we'll have to wait for dessert."