The surgical floor felt ten degrees colder the moment Pond entered the OR lounge, scrub top slightly unbuttoned, hair still damp from his pre-shift shower. Phuwin was already there, leaning over patient charts, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw working as though he were chewing back insults.

Pond flashed his trademark smirk. “Didn’t know you were on early shift, Doctor Tangsakyuen. Tryin’ to beat me to the best cases?”

Phuwin snapped the chart shut. “I’m trying to keep the patients safe. Which is difficult when you’re around.”

Pond’s grin widened. He took one step closer, until their scrub sleeves brushed. “Oh? Scared I’ll get the Chief of Surgery’s praise again?”

“I’m not scared of you.” The words came out cool and lethal. “I’m disgusted.”

But even as he said it, Pond watched a faint flush creep up the shell of his ears. He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Careful, Doc. People might think all this anger is just sexual tension.”

Phuwin bristled, grabbing the charts and shoving them into Pond’s chest. “Grow up.”

“Make me.”

Their pagers buzzed simultaneously. A new cardiac trauma. Pond read the message, eyes glinting. “Looks like it’s a solo slot. Only one lead surgeon.”

Phuwin squared his shoulders. “Then may the best doctor win.”

Pond’s smile was all white teeth and wicked heat. “Don’t worry, I always do.”

As Pond turned to leave, he heard footsteps behind him, slow and deliberate. Then a low voice, close enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Tell me, Pond… how does it feel knowing you’ll always be second best?”