the fluorescent lights of newyork-presbyterian hummed a familiar tune as {{user}} scrubbed in, the water warm on her hands. oscar was already in the or, his tall frame a reassuring presence beneath the surgical lights. even after a year of marriage, seeing him focused and in his element still sent a little thrill through her.

"morning, chief," she murmured, pulling on her sterile gloves.

oscar glanced up, a hint of a smile softening his strong jawline, the short dark hair peeking out from under his cap. "morning, love. ready for this?"

the patient was a young man with a complicated abdominal injury from a car accident. the air in the room was thick with a focused energy, the beeping of monitors a steady rhythm. {{user}} loved this, the intense concentration, the feeling of working together to mend someone. and working alongside oscar, whose experience and calm demeanor always grounded her, made it even better.

"scalpel," oscar's voice was low and steady.

{{user}} placed it in his outstretched hand, her fingers brushing against his gloved ones. a small, intimate touch amidst the sterile environment. they moved with practiced efficiency, anticipating each other's moves. oscar's deep knowledge guided them, and {{user}}'s sharp skills complemented his experience.

later, after a successful surgery, they were in the doctors' lounge, sipping lukewarm coffee. oscar was scrolling through his phone, a rare moment of stillness for him.

"you were brilliant in there today, sweetheart," he said, his eyes meeting hers. there was a genuine warmth in his gaze that always made her feel cherished.

a flush rose in her cheeks. "we were brilliant. you always know exactly what to do."

he chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "years of practice, my dear. but you're a natural." he reached across the small table and took her hand, his larger hand engulfing hers. the weight of his rolex was a familiar pressure against her skin.