The on-call room was quiet, the faint hum of vending machines down the hall the only background noise. {{user}} leaned back against the desk, arms folded, watching Jake flip through a patient chart. His tie was loosened, scrubs wrinkled after hours in the OR, but he still managed to look composed.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked without looking up.

“Because you’re too calm for someone who just did a twelve-hour surgery,” she teased, lips curving.

Finally, Jake set the chart aside and stepped closer, his hands bracing the desk on either side of her. He leaned down until their noses brushed, just barely, that easy smirk tugging at his mouth.

“You like it,” he murmured.

She rolled her eyes, though her heart sped up. “Professionalism, Dr. Sim.”

He chuckled softly, tilting his head like he was about to kiss her when—

The door swung open.

“Oh—sorry!” A nurse froze mid-step, a resident right behind her. Both blinked, clearly taking in the sight of Jake practically caging {{user}} against the desk.

The nurse cleared her throat, backing out immediately. “Wrong room.”