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The first thing he recognized when he woke was the unmistakable smell of a hospital. The harsh glow of a white fluorescent light burned against his retinas before he even opened his eyes. Somewhere beside his ear, a heart monitor beeped in a slow, steady rhythm, its cord snaking under the thin, scratchy blanket draped over him.
His head felt like a warzone — a relentless artillery barrage, pounding behind his eyes, interrupted by sharp, sniper-like bursts of pain every time he tried to focus. His mouth was as dry as cotton, and his thoughts were a tangled mess that hurt to sort through.
A deafening impact. Then, nothing. A void.
He blinked, and even that tiny movement demanded every ounce of strength he had. The room spun before settling into a flickering, nauseating clarity. He tried to sit up, but his body protested with a violent wave of dizziness that forced him back onto the pillow. A low, broken groan escaped him as his sandpaper-heavy eyelids drifted around the room.
And stopped.
Slumped in one of those cheap vinyl hospital chairs — a piece of furniture that could only have been invented as proof of humanity's cruelty — was a man.
A very attractive man.
Broad-shouldered and muscular, he somehow looked tall even while sleeping, his powerful frame seeming much too large for the flimsy furniture. He was folded awkwardly, his neck craned at an angle that promised nothing but pain in the near future. His lips were slightly parted, revealing a glimpse of white teeth — though it looked like he might've been missing one. Dark, wavy hair spilled over shoulders that looked almost unfairly well-built. His face was all sharp angles softened by gentle lines, framed by bold brows, a strong jaw dusted with stubble, and full lips relaxed in sleep.
Even in the unforgiving hospital light, he was breathtaking.
A marble god asleep in a cheap hospital chair.
The patient stared from his bed, his foggy brain struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. He didn't know this man. He was sure of it. He would remember a face like that. He would remember everything about a man like that. And yet there he was, asleep in his hospital room, waiting for him to wake up like some kind of guardian.
... A ridiculously handsome guardian.
A hazy, almost amused thought drifted through the pounding ache in his skull.
Did I hit my head so hard I started hallucinating my own personal Greek god?
After spending several more minutes shamelessly staring at the gorgeous sleeping stranger, he cleared his throat. The sound came out dry and raspy, like sandpaper scraping against wood.
The man didn't stir.
The patient tried again, louder. "Hrrmph."
This time, the stranger's eyes flickered.
Long, dark lashes fluttered before a pair of striking, deep-set eyes slowly opened. For a moment, they remained unfocused, still clouded with sleep, until they landed on the man in the hospital bed.
The stranger blinked.
Then a slow, unmistakably relieved smile spread across his face, softening every sharp feature into something devastatingly warm. He stretched, a full-body, feline movement that made the cheap vinyl groan in response.
The patient wouldn't mention it...
... but he absolutely noticed the man's shirt riding up, giving him a blessed glimpse of an absurdly sculpted stomach.
"Hey," the man said, his voice was deep and rough with sleep, sending an involuntary shiver down the patient's spine, even in his confused state. "You're awake. How's your head?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his eyes scanning the patient's face with an intensity that was both intimate and unsettling.
The patient ignored the question completely, too captivated by the man's presence. Something sparked through the fog of his pain — mischief, maybe, or just a primitive instinct to reach for something beautiful.
"So... did I finally die?" he murmured, his voice a little hoarse. "Did they accidentally send me to heaven or something?"
The man's eyebrows shot up. "...What?"
The patient made a feeble gesture toward him.
"Are you my doctor? A nurse? Honestly, I can't tell because you're dressed way too well for either of those, and..." He hesitated. "I don't really have any close family, so..." A faint trace of his trademark sarcastic smile tugged at his lips. "...Shit. Sorry. I probably shouldn't be talking about my family issues while I'm trying to flirt with you."
The man simply stared at him for a long second, letting the words sink in. Then a slow, incredulous grin spread across his face. It was a breathtaking sight. Charming enough to make something light and pleasantly weightless bloom inside the patient's chest.
"Oh... you hit your head pretty hard." He paused. "You've got a concussion. A hell of a concussion," he said, brushing a loose strand of dark hair behind his own ear, still wearing that maddening smile, though a little softer now. "I'm not a doctor."
It wasn't until the handsome stranger had spoken several full sentences that the patient noticed the accent.
Spanish? ... Hmm, okay. Definitely sexy.
"Then what are you?" the concussed man asked, his gaze lingering shamelessly on the stranger's full lips. "A guardian angel? A really, really attractive hallucination?" He tried to sit up again.
The stranger was standing beside him almost instantly. A large, warm hand settled gently against the patient's chest, guiding him back onto the mattress with surprising care. Even through the thin hospital gown, the touch felt electric.
"Easy," said the stranger, his voice softer now, concern finally showing through his amusement. "You're not supposed to move."
The patient's eyes fell to the hand on his chest, then back to the stranger's face.
"You know," he said quietly, his voice a dry, flirtatious murmur, "a stranger telling me what to do is usually a hard pass." A crooked smile appeared."But for you... I might make an exception." He tilted his head. "Your name. Tell me your name, and I might even be convinced to stay in bed."
The stranger laughed.
It was a heavy, full-bodied sound that filled the sterile hospital room. Leaning casually against the metal bedrail, he shook his head in disbelief.
"God, Robert," he said with a grin. "You're a menace even with half your brain scrambled."
"I'm Robert?" the patient asked, the name sounding strangely unfamiliar. "That's... my name?" He frowned as the fog inside his head thickened. "Oh, right. I'm still in a hospital..." His eyes drifted down to the hospital gown covering him. He grimaced dramatically. "... I've been flirting with you this whole time while wearing this?"
For just a second, the stranger's smile faltered, concern flickering across his face. "Robert," he said gently. "You're Robert. And I'm yo–" He hesitated, a flicker of a more complicated emotion crossed his features. "I'm... Chad."
He tilted his head with a chuckle before continuing. "Robert is just your first name. Just wait until you remember the rest." The amusement returned to his face. "Besides..." Chad said, pointing at the hospital gown with a teasing smile, "you don't usually dress much better than that anyway, so... yeah."
Robert frowned, confused.
"Chad," he repeated, tasting the name. It felt familiar somehow, like a song whose melody he almost remembered. "Chad," he said again, a sly grin returning to his face. "Well, Chad... objectively speaking, you're the best thing I've seen since I woke up." He reached out awkwardly, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated, until his fingertips brushed the wrist of the hand still resting against his chest. "If you're not a doctor..." He looked up into Chad's eyes. "...what are you doing here?"
"I'm here..." Chad's fingers slipped into Robert's outstretched hand, gently weaving their fingers together. His grip gentle but firm, his thumb tracing slow circles across the back of Robert's cold hand, "... to visit my incredibly reckless, equally lovable boyfriend."
The gears inside Robert's aching, dizzy head finally began to turn. Slowly and painfully through the pain, but he was trying. "Oh, really?" he asked.
"Yeah." A dangerous, playful gleam lit up Chad's amber eyes. He leaned in until only a few inches separated their faces. "So..." he murmured, "... if I told you I really want to kiss you right now," his smile widened, "would you mind?"
Robert smiled right back, holding his ground without retreating so much as an inch. "I certainly wouldn't." He tilted his head. "But... what about your boyfriend? Wouldn't he mind?"
A muffled laugh escaped Chad, his warm breath brushing against Robert's face. "My boyfriend?" He pulled back slightly, shaking his head. "No. I don't think he'd mind in the slightest." He squeezed Robert’s hand.
"Good," Robert admitted, the word coming out sounding unexpectedly like a disappointed sigh. "But... how do I know I'm not still, you know... hallucinating?" He gave Chad's hand a weak squeeze in return.
Chad hummed thoughtfully, biting his lower lip — a gesture that was both distracting and downright unfair. "Alright, then." His smile softened into something fond. "Let me help you with that."
He leaned in again, his lips brushing the shell of Robert's ear as he whispered in a voice so low it sounded almost like a husky purr. "You snore. Like a freight train. But I don't mind, because you also mumble sweet things in your sleep..." a tiny chuckle, "... and you always have to be the big spoon, even though you're shorter than me."
Robert recoiled in mock offense, frowning. "I'm not–"
"You are," Chad interrupted, grinning wider by the second. "And we're always arguing in the kitchen. Always over nonsense. Because you like to cling to me while I'm trying to cook... and I cling to you while you're trying to do the dishes." He was clearly loving every minute of it, his amber eyes gleaming like firelight.
Robert stared at him, his mind a blank. It felt like flipping through a photo album filled with undeveloped photographs. He knew the memories belonged to him. He just couldn't see them yet.
Chad's grin gradually melted into something infinitely more tender. He lifted both hands to Robert's face, cupping his cheeks as his thumbs gently brushed over the rough stubble there. "And then we kiss. That's usually how our arguments end." A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You're a really good kisser. Even if you insist you're not."
"Am I?" Robert asked quietly, sounding genuinely dazed. Almost unconsciously, he leaned his face into Chad's palm, the touch anchoring him. "So...you're saying we're...?"
"We're together, Bob Bob." Chad smiled, a slow, breathtaking smile that reached all the way to his eyes. "We've been together for two years. You're my boyfriend. My grumpy, heroic boyfriend with terrible comic timing..." his eyes swept affectionately over the oversized hospital gown, "...who somehow still looks ridiculously handsome in a hospital gown."
He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Robert's forehead.
Robert was silent for a long moment, processing. The pounding in his skull hadn't gone away, it was still there, buzzing relentlessly beneath his thoughts. But now it was joined by something else. Shock, embarrassment, and a dizzy warmth that spread through his chest.
He'd been flirting with his own boyfriend. His breathtakingly handsome, very much taken boyfriend. Taken by himself.
A groan escaped him as he let his head flop dramatically back onto the pillow. "Oh, God." He covered his eyes with one hand. "I was hitting on you. In a hospital. With a head injury." He let out another miserable groan. "This has to be a new low, even for me."
Chad laughed, the sound full of genuine delight.
Then, he shifted, climbing up onto the narrow hospital bed and carefully, gently, fitting his larger frame beside Robert. Somehow, despite his broader frame, he managed to settle beside him without jostling him too much.
He wrapped both arms around Robert, tucking Robert's head under his chin. "It's okay," Chad murmured. "Good thing it was me. I would've lost my damn mind if I'd gone to grab those disgusting little twinkies for you, only to walk in on you flirting with a real doctor."
He kissed the top of Robert's head.
Robert felt the steady thump of Chad's heart against his cheek. The scent of him — clean, warm, and undeniably familiar — seeped into his senses. It was the anchor he needed. Something solid to hold onto while the rest remained a blur.
He let out a long, shaky breath. For the first time since waking up, the tension slowly melted out of his body.
"I just..." Robert mumbled against Chad's chest. "You're so incredibly good-looking. It honestly felt criminal not to at least try."
"Well..." Chad smiled into his hair before pressing another kiss to the crown of his head. "You already succeeded. Two years ago." He tightened his arm around Robert, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over his back. "Now shut up and try to rest. Your memory can come back later." He tightened his arm around Robert. "I'm not going anywhere."