Rowan waited around sitting and doing nothing for three hours until Sage's hospital shift was over. The time he spent was wasted but not, taking the hours to settle his heart and siffle through his emotions. It didn't help too much.
Before he reached the medical facility to pick up the doctor, Rowan stopped by a store to buy a set of gloves to cover his bruised and bloodied hand.
Sage saw nothing strange at first. He sank down in the passenger seat and checked the text messages he missed while at work. When he was finished he sat up a bit and looked around the car to see to take in his surroundings. He spotted that Rowan had a set of gloves on. A new and sudden fashion statement for him. It had been seven weeks with him. He already knew that Rowan was not a 'glove-wearing' kind of guy considering he had never seen Rowan even look at a pair before. The guy didn't wear hats, not wanting to hide his caramel-colored, smooth hair. The guy didn't wear gloves, not wanting to hide his masculine form. The guy hardly liked wearing suit jackets, preferring short sleeves or sometimes walking around the inn room without a shirt at all for crying out loud!
"Are you cold?" Sage asked.
"Me?" Rowan glanced over at Sage a moment then back at the plowed roads. It was a bit slick out still, so he used having to focus as a reason for not giving Sage much attention when in actuality his knuckles were throbbing. "Why?"
"You're wearing gloves."
Rowan hesitated and continued to lie: "A little bit."
"Then turn the heat up."
"You don't look cold though. I don't want to bother you."
"I am a little cold," the doctor said matter-of-factly. "I'll turn it up then."
Oh, there was nothing getting past Sage, was there? He was too smart! Sage reached over and turned up the heat. He could wait patiently, playing with Rowan until he cracked. Never once had he seen him wear gloves. Not to mention Rowan was most certainly not cold. He did not even wear a thick jacket despite the supposed chill.
Rowan fought through the heat even though he had begun to sweat. He managed to get to their inn room.
However, when they entered, he expected Sage to head to the bathroom to take a shower like he always did. But he did not. Sage crossed his arms and stood, staring at Rowan with a calm and blank expression that made him feel anxious.
"Why are you staring at me?"
"You're still cold, Rowan?"
"Why do you care?"
Sage did not answer. He reached forward and grabbed Rowan's hands, squeezing. A sharp pain from the pressure shot through his hand up his arm. As the fabric rubbed against the unattended injury, it stung underneath the glove. He hissed and let out a soft cry.
"Ah, Sage," he whimpered.
"Show me what happened," Sage ordered. He was the devil! What the hell?! His glare. He was mad! Rowan had no choice. He softly cried under his breath and pulled his hands back to peel off the gloves. It scratched and rubbed against the wound as he pulled it off, getting a feeling of rug burn. The fabric of the cheap gloves had stuck to the blood when it dried, and it nearly felt like it was peeling off a poor, fake layer of skin. He sucked in through his teeth with a tiny hiss of pain.
As he pulled back the cloth, Sage's eyes widened as the injury revealed itself. Sage practically jumped forward and grabbed his wrists to inspect it closer.
"Sit down," he ordered, pushing Rowan to sit down on the edge of the bed. He swiftly rushed off into the bathroom where he had stored his personal first AID kit underneath the sink. It sounded like it hurt when Sage dropped to his knees on the floor and dug out supplies, first slipping on a pair of latex gloves.
"Sage, it—"
"If you're not going to explain to me what happened, then shut up. Don't waste my time with excuses," Sage irritably snapped. Though he sounded mad and moved fast, Sage's movements were so gentle. Even softer than when he helped Rowan out with the skin care routine for his face. His lip curled in as he worked, and his eyes never left Rowan's hands. Rowan did not pay attention to what he did. He could not stop staring at Sage's concentrated expression.
The doctor's bottom lip was trapped between a perfect set of white teeth. His green eyes wavered, a beautiful glossy look, and were kept concentrated. Sage tended to have very relaxed eyes, half-lidded that fed into his look of being unreadable, but in that moment when he took care of Rowan's hand, they were opened wider than usual. His face was clean, smooth, and pretty with not a single mark. One would think he was straight from the Heavens, the first of creation, the most perfect, the most treasured. Rowan's eyes were unable to look away, but who said he wanted to stop looking anyway?
Sage's shift from being Rowan's fake husband to being a doctor was truly there, but Rowan could still peak through and feel like he could see a difference. There was a care in Sage's eyes that he had never seen in the eyes of doctors before. Something that he had only seen when Sage took care of Rowan. It made him want to get injured more often.
"You're really cute, Sage."
"Quit talking, I said," Sage muttered.
Or maybe not because Sage was still also mad at him. There were probably other good ways to see Sage being so cute.
"Tell me what happened," the doctor added.
"I thought you wanted me to quit talking."
Sage did not reply. He either wanted the answer or silence.
Rowan sighed. "I got upset and took my anger out."
"What?"
"I punched a wall," Rowan answered more straightforwardly.
"What got you so irritated that you punched a brick wall?"
Rowan blinked like a confused puppy. "How'd you figure it was brick?"
"Because, you idiot, you didn't even clean it," Sage scolded. He had seen nearly every injury in the book. When Rowan told him what happened he believed him right away because all the signs leading up to it were there. The force of the punch he could see from the skin breaking, the angle, the jagged marks. Not to mention he knew Rowan's personality.
"Were you looking for an infection?" he hissed. "There was still gravel in the wound and bits of mortar dust." Sage picked up a thin bandage and began to wrap it around Rowan's knuckles, following the movement with his thumb to gently press it into place. He took off the gloves he used and discarded them into a small waste bin before he began to put the kit back together.
The wrapped bandage was done beautifully. It was comfortable, fitting, and the stinging was held in place by the pressure he had secured it down with. He was done so quickly in a beautifully practiced motion. Sage was, with no doubt, the best doctor Rowan had ever seen. He had so much respect for him. Of course, he had lost his head when someone tried to speak poorly of him. He had done it for his feelings for Sage.
"Rowan." Rowan caught Sage's green eyes staring up at him from the floor. Suddenly, the doctor sighed and climbed to his feet, picking up the first AID kit. "Never mind then."
Sage had no idea what was wrong with Rowan, why he decided to punch a wall, and why he would not tell him, but it did give him some time to think. The only conclusion he could get to was that Rowan did not completely trust him. For some reason it hurt. Sage felt sour. Why would he not tell him his feelings, his injury, and what happened?
With his nature as a doctor he could not completely ignore it. Sage made sure that Rowan's wound was not infected, but he did not do anything more than the basic level of doctor care for him, strictly treating him like a patient, not as his fake husband or even a friend. Suddenly, on the fifth morning, one of the days that Sage was not required to go to the hospital for his travel work, Rowan spoke out to him.
"Get ready."
"Hah?"
"Get up and get ready."
Sage sat up straight, lowering the book in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at Rowan. "Are you bossing me around?"
"I, I didn't mean it like that," Rowan stammered. He had taken nearly three days to get confidence to speak up to Sage again. The doctor's words were like a knife to the gut. Rowan still had pride, so he did not want to take a simple stab wound as a loss. He covered his bleeding stomach with his hands instead. "Besides, shouldn't you listen to your husband," he added in a quiet mutter under his breath.
"I heard that."
"Can you please get dressed?"
Sage sighed and closed the book. "Where are we going?"
"Dress casual," Rowan said. When Sage didn't move, he spoke sincerely, saying, "I will be forever grateful for this favor if you please get up and come with me, Sage."
Sage's lips formed an 'o', but he didn't say anything. He hated when Rowan would lower his voice, speak a bit deeper and quieter, and stare at him so seriously. It felt like Rowan scored a win through cheating. After a second of it hanging over, Sage pressed his lips together tightly but decided to get up and get dressed.
Sage slumped down in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the passing scenery. He had no idea where they were going. Rowan would not tell him. His eyes moved over at him to get a peek, but Rowan was focused on driving. So, his eyes shifted to the bandage wrapped on the other's knuckles that had been there for three days. He wondered how it was, but Sage refused. Not after Rowan had pushed him away.
The doctor wasn't an idiot. When they pulled into the parking lot he could tell what kind of building they were at. "A library?" he asked, sitting up, his thumb pressing the button to pop his seat buckle. A neon sign in the large windows read 'OPEN', flashing with colors of red and blue surrounded by a silhouette of an open book. There were posters pressed against the glass about group readings, new arrivals, and sales on older books. Some movies that were being adapted from popular novels had their own clusters on the windows.
"I called Bella this morning while you were still sleeping," Rowan started to explain. "I wanted to do something you liked doing, but then I realized other than work, I don't really know. She said you liked reading. Which made sense. Whenever I come back, you're asleep, playing games on your phone, or reading.
"I wanted to take you somewhere before, but I wasn't sure if you were still mad at me or not."
Sage blinked. "I wasn't mad at you." It was the truth. He wasn't mad. Hurt? Yes. Mad? No. He thought maybe Rowan was upset with him if anything.
"You weren't?" Rowan's voice sounded kind of childish, like a surprised kid. His eyes seemed to get bigger too.
Sage shook his head.
"Then why were you ignoring me?" Rowan asked.
"I thought you were mad at me," Sage said honestly.
"You, why'd you think I was mad?" Rowan questioned. What miscommunication!
"You hid your injury from me," Sage said quietly. "I thought you didn't want me treating it because you were mad at me," he added in a mumble. Though there was truly no reason for Rowan to be mad at him. "Why'd you think I was mad at you?"
"You're very difficult to read," Rowan said. And Sage agreed, so he nodded. Rowan continued: "But you at least make eye contact if you're willing to talk, and you wouldn't look at me."
"Sorry."
Rowan laughed and said, "It's so weird hearing that from you."
"Why?"
"Because," Rowan said slowly, "I don't think you should ever have to apologize. Especially to me."
Sage's lip trembled for a moment, thinking about what to say, but in the end, he pushed the topic aside. He pressed his lips together. "Why'd you not tell me then? You were going to let it get worse."
"I," Rowan cut him off, "didn't want you to be worried," he said. He laughed gently under his breath and said, "I guess that's conceited of me to think you would be."
"I would be worried."
"Yeah, because you're a doctor."
"I would be worried because I care about you, Rowan, not because of my nature as a doctor," Sage admitted directly. He regained his confidence, looking back at Rowan's wrapped hand he had pulled himself back from checking on more frequently. His fingers curled gently around the other's wrist and tugged his arm toward him. Enough to smooth his fingers over the bandage on his hand, caressing it with soft touches.
Sage thought of Rowan's consistent teasing and suddenly felt like getting a little payback. He raised their hands and brushed his lips on the back of his hand, touching against the bandage. "How's it feel?" His voice was lowered and soft, gentle like his hold, his thumbs rubbing back and forth, soothing.
Rowan's swallow could be heard. Lightheaded. "Good." Rowan had no idea if he answered for the wound or for Sage's lips on the gauze.
"Let's head inside then."