Doctor He Calls Master

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧

The phone vibrated loudly along his nightstand at a constant rattle that couldn't be ignored. Greyson shot up, startled and reached back for it with only 2 and a half hours of sleep.

"Who is this?" Greyson grumbled, lying partially on his back and kept his arm under Derek's head hoping it hadn't woken him. "[Wait, wait, say that again?]" Greyson pushed himself up onto his elbow pulling his arm back in a way that more than likely had stirred poor Derek awake. "[How far are you?]" Greyson turned to face Derek, the dim light overhead showed annoyance, sleep deprivation, and worry within his tired features. "[Alright. Give me some fucking time.]"

Initially the phone didn't wake him, but what made his eyebrows cinch was the sudden jerking movement when Greyson started to get up. Instead of laying on his side, Derek pulled back his leg and raised an arm over his head. Stretching lightly with a bit of a groan before recognizing Greyson’s voice was....frustrated?

"...w-hats going o-n?" He rubbed his eyes and muttered lightly before quickly shutting up when realizing the other was on the phone. Shit. Now he was trying to refocus and translate the Russian in his head. Though already he wasn't the best with the language and being as tired as he was, he only caught onto a few words here and there.

Greyson hung up the phone and quickly returned it to the nightstand then quickly turned over to face Derek.

"Ryan, listen," Greyson cupped his cheek, seeing his eyes were fully wide with concern after easing up onto his elbows. He'd have to apologize later, "Russians are coming. One of thems been shot. I'll be in the operating room. I need you to be quiet and pretend like you aren't here. Alright? Jus- Just fucking stay right here. Don't make a sound." Greyson didn't trust Sasha's men to know Derek's whereabouts. That their enemy now slept within his bed.

Greyson rolled out of bed and went to the closet to throw on pants and a button up shirt as quickly as he could, frantic more so for Derek's sake than his own. He was used to working with them and waking for calls like this, but Derek was now in the picture. He wasn't sure how they'd react to seeing him there if they found out.

"Don't come out." Greyson mentioned one final time before closing the door, but left a crack as he hurried towards the elevator.

Derek barely had time to sit up before seeing Greyson start to leave the room.

"Okay… I'll be here," he muttered quietly. Confused, but also there wasn't much he could do other than wait and hope they would stay in the operating room.

He gathered his composure just before the doors opened. Minutes later and the elevator doors opened to his hidden kingdom that was disturbed by howls of agonizing pain breaking the silence of his and Derek's once serene atmosphere.

"[Those Spanish cock suckers!]" He wailed as two burly Russian subordinates held each of his arms draped over their necks walking on either side of him to keep him on his good leg that struggled with keeping up.

"[Enough, Andres! We told you to wait in the fucking car, you idiot!]" One of them yelled back with anger, but the other seemed to think it was all hilarious, snickering. Greyson was not thrilled at all with their thunderous voices ruining the atmosphere of his domain, but the quicker he went to work, the faster they'd be gone.

"[Get him on the table!]" Greyson had to raise his voice over his mewling, something his head was struggling with as he tried to wake back up. A cup of coffee would have been nice, but he didn't have the luxury at the moment.

Greyson washed his hands all the way up to his elbows, sleeves rolled up and ready as he slipped on a pair of gloves and walked back and forth along the white cabinets and countertops to gather the necessary tools. Andres grimaced and whimpered as they placed him onto his belly along the length of the spotless operating table.