Tao knows exactly why his colleagues come to get him whenever there seems to be trouble with a patient; what he doesn’t know is how they knew he’d make the perfect hospital bruiser.

Because while he’s told them a lot about himself, he’s pretty sure he’s kept just as much to himself.

He supposes the basic reasoning has to do with his appearance though, if he were to look at the obvious. When he puts on a frown most people do seem to become awfully uncomfortable about staying in his direct proximity, not to mention his glare has been complimented on since he was a kid. If scary, intimidating, and mean can be considered compliments. To this day Tao still chooses to think of them in a positive light.

To add to his somewhat intimidating facial features – he doesn’t truly believe so himself of course, but he’s fighting a losing battle against the majority of the staff – he’s also pretty tall and broad-shouldered, which by default makes him loom over anyone more than half a head shorter than himself, unfortunate as that may be.

So in all fairness his colleagues are probably on to something. His appearance won’t necessarily scare people off, but it sure makes them more docile. Still though; that doesn’t mean he likes being disturbed in the middle of his already short evening break to deal with a bunch of thugs that have stumbled their way into the emergency room.

“Please Zitao? They’re scaring the hell out of everyone down there,” Youngmi pleads, hair bun tipping askew as she peers down the hallway outside as though she might have been followed, one hand on the door handle and the other grasping at her scrubs. It would have been faster to page him, though he assumes she just wanted to escape for a bit.

Tao casts a longing glance at his coffee; the mug is still more than half-full and he really needs the caffeine to get through the night-shift. The chocolate bar he just got from the vending machine is also highly necessary to keep his blood-sugar levels above cranky. But Youngmi is always nice and pleasant to talk to, especially as some of the other nurses still seem sort of weary around him, and her current stressed-out expression doesn’t suit her jovial features at all.

“Yeah, alright,” he sighs, “just give me a moment and I’ll be right down.”

Before he’s even got to his feet Youngmi has disappeared back the way she came, echoes of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’ ringing off the walls. Tao huffs, taking a last sip of his coffee before emptying it in the sink, grabbing coat and snack on his way out.

He arrives at the emergency waiting room no more than three minutes later, still tasting chocolate and peanuts on his tongue as he scans the room for whoever is causing trouble. Though there are a few other people around it really isn’t hard to locate the culprits, what with their blatant hassling of Youngmi and the current receptionist, Hyerim; the nurse clearly trying to keep up a brave front where she’s joined the other woman at the reception, clutching a random chart to her chest as she glares up at the three men. They don’t look quite as intimidating as a lot of older miscreants that walk through the ER’s doors, but he knows how easy it is to conceal a weapon or two and he wouldn’t put it past any of them.

“Is there a problem here?” he practically drawls as he approaches the group, holding his hand out for the chart that he can only assume is for whomever of the three is the patient. Youngmi flashes a tiny smile as she hands it over, and he fights off the urge to return it without even glance. What greets him though, is a completely blank form. “You do know,” he says icily, turning finally to the trio, “that it would be a lot easier to help you if you told us what the problem is.”

Out of the three, Tao can pretty much guess who the patient is, if only because his steel-tinted hair is sticking to his forehead and the corner of his eye is twitching spastically. The two brunets by the man’s side more or less confirm this as the taller of the duo holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence, and the other frowns at Silver in poorly concealed concern. How cute. Or would have been if the guy wasn’t dressed as a gigolo. The other two are wearing things more suited to the cool spring weather, but Tao isn’t sure what to think of the injured man’s leather on leather apparel.

“You the on-call surgeon?” It’s not the patient asking, but rather brunet number one, who looks at him rather apathetically. Tao calmly raises his brows.

“Do you need a surgeon?” he retorts, watching the three exchange mute glances. Another few seconds pass wordlessly before Tao finally huffs, handing the empty chart back as he nods for the trio to follow him.

There’s a room that’s been pretty much set aside for this sort of situation; one of the few sides of this thug-duty that Tao appreciates, seeing how loud the emergency wing can get during a busy shift. “I’d prefer to know your name before providing any sort of medical aid,” he reminds Silver as he holds the door open for the three of them, ignoring the way their gazes linger suspiciously on him as he follows them inside. He locks the door with a ringing click. “Well?”

The previously concerned brunet suddenly appears a lot more hostile, eyes narrowed and shoulders tense as they stand on opposite sides of the examination table. Tao glares back and is immediately satisfied with the way the young man flinches; not all unpleasant visitors get the message.

“Chanyeol.”

Tao has to take a short moment to get back to the task at hand before he can file the name away, unnecessarily distracted by his patient’s company. He nods curtly at this Chanyeol, gesturing for him to take a seat on the exam table.

“I’m Doctor Huang Zitao, in case you were wondering.” He snatches a pair of gloves from the pack on the counter, putting them on as he fastens Chanyeol with a stern look. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to find out myself?”

“…shoulder. Some bastard lunged at me out of the blue, we were just—“

“That’s quite enough. The less I know about it the better,” Tao interrupts, gesturing for the more cooperative-looking of the other two to help get Chanyeol’s jacket off. Normally he’d be all for finding out the background of the injury, what had led up to it and any circumstances that might have increased any chance of infection, but he knows this type of patient too well to bother. “Normally I’d run some tests but I’m assuming you’d rather skip that part?” Tao asks, making a face as he finally lays eyes on the injury; a decent gash about three inches long, roughly half an inch deep, that runs diagonally from the top of Chanyeol’s shoulder. Nasty. And definitely caused by malicious intent.

“Yeah, I’d ’preciate it if you didn’t. Just stitch me up so we can get out of here.”

Tao narrows his eyes at the moist wound, still bleeding some but not nearly as profusely as it must have initially, and pokes Chanyeol’s tank top aside a bit more as he prods around the gash. He lets his eyes drift only momentarily to the artwork covering the man’s back.  “Do you have full mobility of your arm?” he asks, raising a brow to let Chanyeol know that proving he does would probably be a good idea. By definition it’s a fairly deep incision; it could certainly be debilitating, if only for some time.

And despite the nature of Chanyeol’s profession, or at the very least what Tao presumes he does for a living judging by all of their looks and actions so far, it is something of a relief to see him raise his arm over his shoulder, albeit a bit too quick and with a clearly pained hiss. A small trickle of blood seeps out of the lower edge of the cut.

“You could stand to be more mindful of your injury,” Tao grumbles, pulling his arm down a bit too harshly himself, earning a sudden yelp. “Pardon me.”

“What sort of doctor are you?” While the taller brunet rolls his eyes, Chanyeol’s jacket still in his hands, the other is glowering at him, plush lips pressed together tightly. Tao huffs, turning to get out the things he needs for disinfecting and stitching the cut. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Do you think they hand these out to people for fun?” Tao flaps his open med coat for emphasis, snorting as he settles as comfortably as possible behind Chanyeol on the exam table. “I’ll inform you-… whatever your name is, that I spent just as long in med school as any of the other residents in this hospital. And that you’re probably lucky I’m here to fix your friend at all.” He wets a cotton swab to get started, pausing as the tan brunet snorts derisively.

“Anyone could stitch up something like that…”

Tao blinks. “Do you want to try it then? It would save me the trouble, and I’m sure your friend wouldn’t mind his shoulder healing poorly. Would you?” The irritated look on Chanyeol’s face says it all.

“Get out of here Kai,” he grunts, sighing heavily as he snaps his fingers. “Go on. Go call the guys and let ‘em know we’ll be back before the party starts.” There’s obvious hesitance in Kai’s movements, but he finally slips out of the room, disgruntled pout making it clear how unfair he finds the situation. Tao shakes his head as he gets back to work. The atmosphere is actually a lot more comfortable when someone isn’t glaring at the side of his face.

Working in absolute silence, his full concentration on making sure the stitches come out nicely, Tao doesn’t even notice the blatant intrusion of his personal space until he can actually feel the guy’s breath against his cheek. He stops what he’s doing to give him a pointed stare, but the brunet just nudges him aside to get a better look.

“Dude, he almost got your tat,” he exclaims with a much too delighted expression, and Tao has to slap his hands away to keep him from poking at the fresh sutures. “We’re talking millimetres here, like seriously.”

“Sehun, I honestly don’t care at this point,” Chanyeol reaches back with his free arm to thump Sehun’s side much too violently for someone who still has half a wound to get closed up, “let him finish this tonight, it hurts like a  already.” With a sigh, Tao helpfully shoves Sehun away by the elbow, shaking his head at the stunned face the other makes at the action.

“I’ll set you up with something stronger if there’s prolonged pain, but from the looks of you generic pain meds should do the job.”

Chanyeol grunts in what Tao chooses to interpret as agreement, tensing up again as the needle pierces his skin. “…the ink’s gonna be fine though, right?”

Tao just rolls his eyes. He’s met a lot of mobsters, but these are the most juvenile by far. Sehun is looking on with way too much interest, leaning as close as Tao lets him, and while Chanyeol seems fairly mature in some respects and has a moderate pain threshold, his concern for a tattoo that by any measure isn’t even finished sort of gives him away.

“Your friend lied to you,” Tao drawls, putting the tip of one finger at the edge of the cut and another at the closest point of the artwork. “That’s how far off it is.”

Maybe he should consider Chanyeol’s sudden burst of energy as he tries to get up to chase his snickering friend around the room a positive thing, but Tao sincerely doubts it would be very good of him, as the physician in charge, to let his patient go off and play before he’s completely stitched and actually ready to do so. He keeps a steady hold on the guy until he’s calmed down some, waving Sehun away as he gets too close again.

“If you want the sutures to hold properly, I advise against any vigorous activity for the time being.”

“Any vigorous activity?” Chanyeol turns to look at him, oddly horrified, and Tao can sort of guess why before he even opens his mouth again. “Including ?”

“Do you  with your shoulder?” Sehun pipes in, dodging Chanyeol’s kick effortlessly with a playful grin.

“As long as you don’t strain it and your partner doesn’t make a habit of clawing your back carelessly,  should be fine. And take care when you wash up after.” He snorts at Chanyeol’s relieved sigh, shooting Sehun a warning glare as he makes to come over again. “You stay there,” he orders sharply, pointing to one of the corners in his line of sight, then adjusts Chanyeol’s torso to its previous angle, “and you stay still.”

A few minutes later Tao can finally remove the disposable gloves, glad to be done, and efficiently cleans up after the procedure. He’s longing for that damn cup of coffee that he couldn’t finish. If he’s lucky he might even be able to blackmail one of the other on-calls to get him another piece of chocolate; he’s not the only one working after all, and his contract doesn’t explicitly state that he has to deal with the unsavoury patients on his own. The least they can do is help sate his sweet tooth in return.

“So, doctor, what do I owe you?”

Tao eyes Chanyeol for a short moment, not liking the way the man swings his arm around despite the obvious discomfort of it. A clear display of recklessness and poor concern for personal wellbeing that Tao isn’t happy about; give it a day or two and someone will likely have to stitch him up again. Maybe he should have forced a sling on him.

“I can’t give you the exact numbers, but I’m fairly sure it’s pricey to stumble in and get treatment without insurance. Hyerim can probably work it out in a couple of minutes if you let her do her job in peace.” He opens the door to wave them out, wary of the way Sehun’s curious gaze lingers on him as he locks up. In fact, he feels wary of Sehun in general. The guy is much too curious for his liking.

Chanyeol is muttering incoherently under his breath as they head back to the waiting room, and Tao is pleased that Kai doesn’t join them until the end of the hallway. He suspects the guy has been waiting just around the corner for them to turn up. Hopefully he hasn’t done anything to scare any passers-by.

“They want us there pronto,” Kai informs the other two immediately, and makes a face that Tao tries his hardest not to snicker at. “Suho’s not happy.”

“Suho’s never happy.”

“That’s not exactly a reason to piss him off more.”

And now he sort of wishes he could plug his fingers in his ears and hum excessively to drown their ramblings out, but that would be a tad too unprofessional, not to mention decidedly out of character. Yet, the last thing he wants is to become privy to any specifics of an illegal business gathering… or a gathering of illegal businesses, as it probably stands. He knows for sure that the name Suho won’t be going anywhere though, which only serves to dampen his mood further as he walks up to the front desk. Hyerim smiles faintly, and Tao very weakly copies her as he counts up all the supplies he used, of course not forgetting to mention the extra cost of keeping the whole affair off the record. He steps aside only when she starts going through the numbers, allowing himself a short break as he leans on the desk, and can’t help but chuckle quietly as Chanyeol groans. He did say it wouldn’t be cheap.

“So,” Tao flinches at Sehun’s sudden proximity, “don’t you feel hot?” The brunet smirks, leaning in much too close again for no good reason, as though born to get in other people’s spaces and raised to do it without remorse.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tao asks, if only to make sure that it wasn’t some lame pick-up line. Sehun gestures to his neck, and he feels stupid for not getting it straight away. The collar of his turtleneck is tight and a bit itchy, and yes, now that he thinks about it, it is a bit too warm for his liking. Not that that would keep him from putting one on every day. “I’m fine, thank you very much. Catch colds easily; been that way since I was a kid.” He reaches back to scratch his nape, unable to leave the sudden itch alone, and lets his lips tug into a lazy smile. If Sehun noticed his blatant lie he doesn’t show it. In fact he seems lost in thought even as Kai nudges at him to get him to move.

“We’re late enough as it is,” he grunts, Chanyeol shuffling by behind them with a yawn, his ruined jacket thrown loosely over his shoulders. Pity on such a nice piece really; it looks like a quality brand.

“Make sure you get it checked out if there’s any issue. And don’t swing your arm around too much,” Tao calls, receiving little more than a wave as response. He supposes that’s all he could ever expect from their sort.

“Hey, do you have a pen?”

He blinks at the question, only realizing it wasn’t meant for him when Hyerim holds out a pen for Sehun to take, steady hands turning his own for the brunet to scribble a series of numbers across his palm. Usually not the best place if he really wanted it, Tao thinks blandly, because he can already feel the pads of his fingers dampen as Sehun tilts his head with a juvenile smile.

“Call me, yeah? I’ve always wanted to play with a real doctor.”

It takes just until the trio have stepped outside for Tao to slump back onto the desk with a tired groan as Hyerim pats his shoulder.

“Thanks a lot Zitao,” she says lightly, sporting a wide grin as he finally peers over. Tao frowns, rolling his head slowly and trying to shrug off the tension in his shoulders. He might not be the cheeriest person around, but nor is he by any definition the most detached; dealing with tonight’s group without cracking a smile until the very end has drained him somewhat.

But again, that might just have to do with the lack of caffeine in his system. He edges his sleeve up just a fraction to peek at the cheap watch hidden underneath, exhaling slowly as he covers it again. “Page me if anything comes up, yeah? I’ll be trying to catch a break again,” he says, nodding curtly as he turns to leave.

“Hyunwoo told me there should be some blueberry cupcakes in the pink Tupperware, in case you want something sweet.” Hyerim is looking unusually smug as Tao peers back at her, smiling as she waves him off. “It’s on top of the fridge; eat your fill, doctor Huang.”

He remains sceptic about the information until he opens the container himself, snorting as he gets to washing off his mug for a fresh fill. The obscure phone number leaves a faint print on the white porcelain, and he pauses briefly to stare at the muddled digits. With another snort he scrubs it all out, black ink smudging before rinsing off completely.

It’s not like he would have called anyway.

When he’s summoned to work again ten minutes later, he’s managed to gobble up no less than three cupcakes, and is feeling quite satisfied. Dealing with aching tummies and light concussions is much less concerning than fixing the results of gang violence, not to mention more relaxing. Time goes by much faster when the patients are normal people; kids with fevers and sore throats; overworked office employees with migraines and ulcers; partygoers with strange abrasions; anything but criminals, and far from threatening in any way or shape. Heck, even resetting a dislocated shoulder seems a very pleasant way to end his shift.

Youngmi catches up to him at the elevator, both of them too sapped for the stairs, and Tao suppresses a grumble as she links their arms amicably and leans on him with a tiny smile. He yawns instead, and thinks of the shower and plush bed that are waiting for him. It’s not far home; he should be fast asleep within the hour.

They wave goodbye to Hyerim and greet a senior physician with a polite bow, and then they’re outside, the morning air slightly chilly as he  in a deep breath. Tao smiles into the faint breeze, copying Youngmi as she yawns into her scarf.

“Did everything go well after I left?” she asks, holding him back from walking too fast as they head toward the bus stop. The parking lot is virtually deserted around them, and Tao laughs quietly to not disturb the calm of morning.

“I’m here and uninjured; I’d say it went about as well as it usually does.”

“You know what I mean,” Youngmi insists, slapping lightly at his arm.

“None of them tried anything, no. They were honestly quite reasonable.”

“Oh…” she looks a bit surprised, but then her expression settles into something much more knowing. “I guess Hyerim wasn’t lying then.” Tao isn’t quite sure what to make of the smug smile she peers up at him with, rolling his shoulders and clearing his throat to buy a second or two.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, turning his gaze to the brightening sky for a distraction. He’s become progressively worse at keeping secrets over the past decade or so, and Youngmi is much too good at prying.

“Apparently you caught someone’s eye.”

That thought in particular is one Tao doesn’t want to consider. He’s got enough issues of his own to get involved with anyone of a criminal nature, and he definitely doesn’t need any rumours spreading.

“I’m pretty sure it was just empty encouragement to let them know if I need… help with anything in the future. I did not catch anyone’s eye.”

“Actually,” Tao wants to curse as he hears the barely recognizable voice, “you sort of did.”

For a moment, he’s stunned by Sehun’s sudden appearance. Then, he’s sort of stunned by Sehun’s actual appearance, and Tao’s pretty sure it shows on his face. “My shift has been over for twenty minutes,” he deadpans as the brunet struts over, completely at ease despite his clearly broken nose and quite severe limp. It must’ve been one heck of a party for him to end up like that.

“Then I suppose any of your colleagues would be happy to examine me?” Sehun asks, smiling jovially as he wipes some blood off the top of his lip with a sniff that makes his eyes scrunch and shoulders pull up in obvious pain.

“Maybe you should deal with it Zitao…” Youngmi pipes up, slowly detaching herself from his arm. “I’m sure they’ll pay you proper overtime?”

He gives her a disbelieving look. “They’ll pay me overtime for a case I haven’t reported?”

“I’ll pay you myself if it makes you fix my nose faster,” Sehun chips in, rather unhelpfully. Tao can feel a headache coming on as he considers his options, crossing his arms and glaring up at the sky in frustration. So much for sleeping the morning away. He makes sure to send Youngmi a dark glare as he finally makes up his mind.

“Tell Seungho I said hi,” he mutters, foregoing the usual goodbye hug as he turns back to the looming hospital with a heavy sigh. “Come on, keep up; I have two nights’ sleep to catch up on and you’re not helping at all.”

He doesn’t wait for Sehun to catch up, but the guy does so anyway, a chuckle drifting over as they pass through the automatic doors. “Sorry for the trouble.”

Tao snorts, not even bothering to voice an explanation as Hyerim looks over curiously when they pass by. “You don’t look sorry,” he points out and leads the way down the same corridors again, the brunet hobbling along by his side, looking for all intents and purposes as though he’s enjoying a leisurely stroll in spite of his injuries. The fact that he’s here again is bothersome on so many levels that Tao can’t even decide which are worst; the professional issues or the personal ones.

“Alright, so maybe I’m not. You’re sort of intriguing.”

Sehun is looking far too happy, and Tao snorts as he opens the door for him, watching with unease the way he keeps from putting any substantial weight on his left leg. “If you’re trying to hit on me you might want to wait until your nose isn’t twice its normal size,” he says dryly, and doesn’t miss the quick glance to his hand. He boldly flashes his clean palm as he shrugs out of his jacket, ignoring the way Sehun clicks his tongue. “Basic hospital hygiene.”

“I’ll write it in a better spot next time,” Sehun grumbles and looks strangely determined to do so, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Tao huffs, and knows he’ll regret his reply the second it leaves his lips.

“Good luck finding one.”






After what has to be the longest shift in his personal history of medical education, or at the very least the most mentally exhausting one, Tao wakes up to the sound of his ringtone blaring deafeningly a couple of inches from his ear. Bright sunlight is trickling in through the gap in his curtains, and he curses aloud as he rolls onto his stomach. The plan had been to sleep until dusk, and he does not have a good feeling about the call that’s waiting to be picked up.

“This is Huang Zitao,” he grunts, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Oh, Zitao, thank god! It’s—“

“—ey doc? It’s Chanyeol.”

For a second or two he seriously considers breaking his phone. On second thought he hangs up instead, running a hand over his face as he stares up at the plain white ceiling.

There really isn’t much of a choice but to get out of bed, shower and hope he gets there before anything bad happens. It doesn’t stop him from wishing there were of course, but there’s not much he can do to change things at this point.

The skin of his back pulls in places when he stretches, and he acknowledges the discomfort with a huff, levelling his own reflection in the bathroom mirror with a scathing look as he glides his fingers over his ornately marked throat. He’s glad Sehun was too drugged out by the end of his visit to go on about finding a spot for the number; it would’ve been unfortunate to have had to hurt someone he fixed up himself.

He sneers at himself, thoughts heading in a darker direction, before finally tearing his gaze away.

“You’d have thought I was done playing with fire by now…”