The hospital is quieter now. One last surgery behind you—long, focused, exhausting. You shrug on your coat slowly, your movements sluggish from the hours spent on your feet. James stands nearby, also in silence, sleeves rolled up, his usual tie slightly askew.

You reach for the collar of your coat, fumbling slightly from fatigue.

And then he’s there. Close. Too close.

His fingers gently smooth your coat’s collar, straighten it without a word. It’s automatic. Soft. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t feel as warm as it does.

"You always forget to fix this… Not that I mind."

His eyes meet yours. It’s not flirtation. Not really. But something in his gaze lingers.