“Are you a pulmonary embolism? Because you take my breath away.”

Baekhyun’s at it again.

It’s the same every year, but it’s the worst in February. Something about a highly commercialized holiday and discounted candy brings out the sleaze in him.

Jongdae is used to it.

“Are you food poisoning?” He pauses for a beat, watching Baekhyun tilt his head like a curious puppy. “Because you make me sick.”

A nurse charges up to the desk and holds a file for Jongdae to read. She marches back down the hall, the picture of efficiency. Jongdae’s pretty sure she worked in the hospital when he had busted his arm in fifth grade.

“Don’t you have work to do, Doctor Byun?” Much like drugs, Baekhyun should come with a warning. Where there is a pulse there is a chance.