Being in a hospital is never fun, period. But there's one thing in this case that seems to make things better; the doctor who visits to check on you more frequently than others. Dr. Kim Namjoon is a totally swoon-worthy cardiac doctor who just happe...
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ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ɴɪɴᴇ | "ʙʟᴜᴇʙᴇᴀʀᴅ'ꜱ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ"
"How is my love doing?" Namjoon questions quietly the next day, trailing kisses leisurely from my jaw to the base of my throat.
"F-Fine," I replied, attempting but failing to hide my breathlessness, trying to keep steady the whisk in my hand.
I was trying to help make lunch, and Namjoon was trying to distract me. He'd always been affectionate, but these last two weeks nearly had my heart failing. Every time he was near me, I struggled to breathe and it was as if he couldn't stay away. But I bet anything that he knew this, and did it on purpose, no doubt.
"Just fine?" He teased, his tongue flicking out to lick at the tick in my jaw, making me swallow nervously as I tried to suppress the shiver that begged to rake through me.
"Fantastic." I tried, making him chuckle softly as his arms tightened around my waist whirling me around so that I faced him, unfortunately though, the whisk I was holding ended up splattering the sauce I was making for fajitas, all over his white dress shirt.
He'd been gone all morning, doing who knows what at the hospital, saying he had to attend some kind of work thing, but I didn't care what it was for as long as it meant he'd leave me alone. He'd only just now come back, while I was trying to make something to eat, assuming he'd be back in time.
"O-Oops." I say nervously, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." My eyes widened as I looked at the brown and red-tinted sauce that was now bubbling and splattered on his crisp white shirt, a dot of it landing on his sharp jaw. "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to." I apologize again, scared he's going to yell at me for ruining his shirt.
But instead of getting upset, he reaches over me, sticks his finger into the bowl of sauce, and raises his finger to his lips, sucking it clean dry as he licks the sauce off of his finger. "It's good." He says. "I like the spices." He dips his finger back into the sauce bowl, which, is so unsanitary and gross, and pretends to stick it back into his mouth, before faking me out and swiping it across my cheek.
"Hey! That's so unsanitary, for one thing, and gross! I did it by accident. You did it on purpose!" I screech like a child, and he simply laughs.
"Oops." He shrugs his shoulders. "Sorry about that."
To get even, I dipped my whole hand into the bowl of sauce, which I'd remake later, (because, ew, unsanitary), and I smeared it all over his broad chest. Pushing him off me as he stills for a moment, sliding away. Managing to get away from his hold, I grab the spoon I'd used for measuring, dipping it into the sauce, accidentally getting some on my hands as well before running.
"You get back here." He growls playfully, and I look back to see him chasing after me, his gigantic hands doused in sauce that drips onto the kitchen floors as he chases after me.
