Anthony leaned over and gave Sören a nose kiss. "How are you, love?"
"Hrrrrnnnnn."
"Hrrrrnnnnn?"
"HRRRRRRRRNNNNN."
"HRRRRRRRRNNNNN?"
As bone-tired as he was, Sören managed a smile and reached out to pat Anthony's knee. He stole a long look at Anthony as he began backing out of the National parking lot and headed onto the highway, all serious business then relaxing once they got moving. Anthony looked over at him again and noticed Sören was watching him and bit his lower lip. Sören's stomach fluttered in response - even after close to two years, Anthony still made him feel like a teenager with a stupid crush, sometimes. Through all their ups and downs they still had it.
Sören was hoping and praying they'd still have it when they weathered this latest storm.
"So let me try this again," Anthony said, handing Sören an iced coffee that he'd gotten for him on the way to pick him up. "How did it go? Nothing catastrophic, I hope."
"I didn't lose any patients, if that's what you mean."
"Mostly," Anthony said, nodding - Sören knew that Anthony knew he was still shaken from the death on his operating table in April. "But you seem..." Anthony made a vague hand gesture before he put his hand back on the steering wheel. "Perturbed in a way that you usually aren't even on a rough day, and I know it's extremely hot today but that doesn't seem like it, either."
It was Monday, August fifth - they were right in the dog days of summer, it was a sweltering thirty-two degrees (90 Fahrenheit) outside, and even though Sören had been in air conditioning at the National all day, the few minutes walking to where Anthony was parked was like being in an oven and Sören was sweating. His break had been unpleasant too - Sören preferred to go out and get some fresh air on sunny days and he felt like he was going to wilt after just five minutes outside, never mind a full half-hour.
But Anthony was right. Even accounting for Sören's misery in the heat, this was something different. Sören debated dropping the news on Anthony right there, but he was himself still in a state of shock and needed some time to decompress before he could have that conversation. "We had a staff meeting this morning," Sören said.
"Oh. You usually have those on Wednesdays."
Sören nodded. "We usually do."
"So..."
"I'll tell you when we get home, if you don't mind."
Anthony gave him an apprehensive look, but he simply nodded and said, "OK."
They were quiet the rest of the way home, which was usual for them, Anthony knowing Sören needed mental space after work, and Anthony had just come from Lincoln's Inn himself so he also appreciated the quiet time. When they got in, Sören washed his hands right away and then Anthony did, and they changed into pajamas. Sören sat on the couch while Anthony poured them each an iced coffee from the pitcher in the fridge, and after Anthony passed him the drink, Anthony took out a menu from the nearby Italian place they liked, the menu tucked neatly under the coffee table with some other menus, a couple of books and Sören's Wacom tablet. But before Sören could open the menu and decided what he wanted for dinner, Anthony leaned back and looked at him while he sipped his coffee, giving Sören that intense "go on, I'm waiting" look.
"OK." Sören put the menu on top of the coffee table - it could wait while they had this discussion. "Here goes." Sören took a deep breath. "We found out this morning that one of the neurosurgeons died."
Anthony's mouth opened slightly and his eyes widened. "Oh. God. Was it... was it anyone closer to you? I imagine it's not Colin or I would have heard about it from Diana -"
"No, it's not Colin. It's someone I only work with occasionally, Pavit Singh. Massive heart attack." Sören sighed. Even though he didn't know Singh well, the man was always friendly with him when they did work together, and Sören felt sorry for the man's family, knowing he left behind a wife, two sons, and three daughters. "He was a good guy, as far as I could tell. And much too young - he was only in his early fifties. He wasn't in bad health, either, so I'm guessing early heart attacks must run in his family."
Anthony nodded. "It's always sad when you hear about someone going young like that. It would be sad anyway, I think -"
"Well, yeah, I'm not trying to imply it's not sad when older people go. Just..." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "You would have thought he'd have a couple more decades left. He was expecting a grandchild and now he'll never get to see them."
Anthony frowned and patted Sören's knee, looking down, and Sören got the sense Anthony was thinking about his own parents and wondering how much time they had left - though Elaine and Roger both seemed fairly healthy, barring Roger's arthritis - and Anthony also seemed like he was thinking about his grandmother, Anthea, who was declining with dementia. Sören instinctively put his hand on top of Anthony's, rubbed, and squeezed.
Then Sören went on. "This leaves us short one neurosurgeon."
"Ah." Anthony nodded. Then it hit him. "Oh. Shit."
Sören nodded vehemently. "Jæja. Shit is right. Neurosurgeons don't exactly grow on trees or fall out of the sky. He was working the same kind of hours as most of us, usually seventy-two hours a week on average - sometimes more than that, sometimes a lot more - so until we can get someone to replace him, we're all going to have to pick up the slack."
"So that means you'll be getting more hours."
Sören nodded some more. "Not just that I'll be getting more hours, but I'll be getting more hours. We already have a few neurosurgeons who can't take more hours because of family obligations, small children and all, and we have a few neurosurgeons who are stretched as far as they can go, working ninety-six hours a week, so that means Singh's hours have to be divided between the rest of us, and I'm in the 'rest of us' camp, especially as a junior surgeon, I get less say in my hours than someone with more seniority. I don't know how bad it's going to be just yet, only that it's going to be bad."
"When do you find out how bad?"
"Tomorrow. Ed's redoing my schedule now, so... anything you know about what's happening for the next ten days is null and void." Sören gave a bitter laugh as he sipped his iced coffee.
Then Anthony's jaw just dropped as he let that sink in. "Wait, you said that some of your colleagues... they work ninety-six hours a week?"
"Jæja."
"Is that even legal."
Leave it to Anthony to ask if it's legal or not. Sören shrugged. "I know there are labor laws but I also know the NHS can work around them by claiming necessity. It's like I said, neurosurgeons don't grow on trees so we can either flaunt labor laws or we can be short-staffed and more people can die."
Anthony frowned. "That still feels grossly unfair. Like slave labor."
"People dying of preventable deaths is also grossly unfair."
"Right, I wasn't trying to say that it wasn't, but -" Their eyes met. "I worry about you."
Sören could feel how loaded that statement was. There was an unspoken I worry about us behind it. Since the explosion of the art show last month, things had been calm, but there was a lingering tension in the air. The only way to really get back to normal was to spend time together, and that was easier said than done when Sören's hours were already at odds with Anthony's work schedule before this latest.
Sören took a deep breath. "Some people have jobs, some people have careers... surgeons are on a mission from God, or, for those of us who don't believe in God, we play God every day in the operating theatre. I told you when we first started dating in 2011 that I didn't have a life because of what I do - this is my life." Sören reached out his hands and gestured around. "This is what happens when you go into medicine."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Sören felt a little self-conscious, not wanting it to come off like Anthony wasn't a priority to him or somehow came second in his life. But Sören also couldn't apologize for what he'd said, either.
Anthony simply nodded, and a moment of silence hung between them, as if he were searching for the right words in response. Then he answered with a question. "Have you worked really crazy hours before? I mean... crazier. Since your hours are already crazy."
"I have," Sören said. "Not here, but back when I was working at the hospital in Reykjavik. We don't have so many specialists, being such a small country, so I got called in a lot on top of my regular shifts. There were stretches when I'd be pulling a hundred hours a week for weeks at a time."
"And how was that?"
Sören felt like he was in the courtroom now, and he almost yelled Does your lawyer mode ever turn off but he also couldn't fault Anthony for having concerns. "Not fun. I'm not looking forward to a repeat."
"Hopefully it won't be that bad."
"Hopefully not. But it might." Sören had the sense that it would, since there weren't a lot of spare neurosurgeons to pick up the slack for Singh's hours. "It just might." Sören gave a resigned half-shrug. "I survived it before. And I didn't have you to take care of me." Sören smiled at Anthony, and reached out to stroke his cheek. Anthony smiled back.
Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it, and squeezed it in his, close to his heart. "Yes. You have me now. We look out for each other."
"We do."
"And we'll get through this." Anthony put his coffee down and put his arms around Sören, pulling Sören into his chest. He rubbed his nose in Sören's curls, kissed the top of his head. "We're in this together."
Sören sighed, wishing he could stop time for a little while and just rest there, safe in his lover's arms. "I love you, Corn."
Anthony chuckled softly at the use of the old nickname. "I love you too, IKEA."
The next day Sören was off work by nine PM, and Anthony came out to get him rather than making him take the Tube home, even though Sören could see that Anthony, too, was tired as he got in the car.
"How was work?" Anthony asked, leaning in for a quick kiss.
Sören made a noise and then he replied simply with a "Hrrrrnnnnn."
Anthony chuckled. "Hrrrrnnnnn."
"Hrrrrnnnnn."
"Hrrrrnnnnn?"
"Hrrrrnnnnn hrrrrnnnnn."
They laughed together, and Sören breathed a soft sigh and rested his head on Anthony's shoulder, zoning out to Jamiroquai playing on the car stereo. It was still uncomfortably muggy out tonight and Sören was grateful for the air conditioned vehicle after the sweaty walk to the car. When they reached their place in Kingston, both Sören and Anthony made faces as they got out of the car and made their way upstairs - the stairwell was sweltering and Sören felt ready to drop once they got to the second floor.
Sören washed his hands and marched immediately to the shower. A cool shower felt refreshing, though Sören was still exhausted enough to go to bed sooner rather than later. Anthony had sandwiches waiting for him when he got out and sat with him. After a few minutes Anthony prompted, "So?"
"So..."
"What does your new schedule look like?"
"Right, that." Sören opened his satchel on the coffee table, took out his little notebook, and handed it to Anthony. Munching on a sandwich, he watched Anthony gawping at the schedule.
When Anthony had read Sören's schedule for the next two weeks, he handed it back to Sören, looking a little shell-shocked. It was one thing to be warned yesterday that Sören's hours were going to go up, it was another thing to see it written in the planner.
"So you're getting a hundred hours a week over the next two weeks," Anthony said.
Sören nodded slowly. "I did warn you it could be that bad."
"Right, I was thinking maybe you'd get closer to eighty-four, dividing the hours with the other surgeons, but..."
Sören laughed bitterly. "I'm a junior surgeon and I don't have children." Then, feeling the need to grasp at levity somehow, he added, "Even if your gran wants us to have some."
Anthony buried his face in his hands, shaking with silent laughter, and when he pulled his hands away his cheeks were pink, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He did an imitation of his grandmother's voice as he called out, "CORNELIUS, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO PUT A BABY IN HIM?"
They laughed together, but it didn't last long, Anthony quickly sobering as he steepled his hands and rested his chin on his fingertips, taking a few deep breaths as he narrowed his eyes and tapped his fingers together. Sören could practically see the gears in Anthony's head turning, and knew from having seen that body language before that it was Anthony's strategist pose; Sören got the sense Anthony took that pose often in his chambers.
Then Anthony straightened up, gave a dramatic little cough, and said, "Right. So I just did the mental math. One hundred hours spread out over six days a week is sixteen hours a day, or in the case of seven days a week where you only get a full day off every ten days, fourteen hours a day. But your schedule currently has you at six days of sixteen hours each."
"Correct."
"That leaves you with exactly eight hours left in the day. When I take you to and from work, the commute is roughly a half-hour to forty-five minutes depending on traffic. If you take the Tube, the commute is roughly a half-hour to an hour depending on train availability. So let's go for a rough estimate of ninety minutes to two hours a day commute, which leaves you with six hours for eating, sleeping, and... well, not much else." Anthony made a face.
Sören nodded. "When I was pulling the hundred-hour workweeks in Reykjavik, I got roughly six hours of sleep a night. That was provided I could actually sleep through the entire night. You never appreciate how much your body needs eight hours until you're surviving on six or four."
"Jesus." Anthony leaned back against the couch, his mouth slightly open, eyes wide, looking to be in shock.
Finally their eyes met and Anthony said, "Do you know how long this -"
Sören shook his head, and shrugged. "Till they get a replacement. I assume that if I have to work this schedule for longer than a couple weeks they'll have to by law give me a weekend off here and there, so at least there's that."
"OK." Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, and Sören knew it was sinking in. Sören also knew there was a difference between the information sinking in and then actually living it. The new normal started tomorrow.
For a brief instant, Sören thought about asking Anthony if he was going to really, truly be OK with this - he worried about Anthony getting his needs met, since they had managed to make time around their schedules for sex, and now that was going to be far less workable than before. But before he could open his mouth and express concerns, Anthony hugged him tight. "We'll get through this, Sören." Anthony started to rock him. "You're a fighter. And I'm standing right there beside you."
They made slow, sensual love that night, stroking and holding each other's faces, looking deeply into each other's eyes, trying to make it last, make it count. Sören felt like he was burning every touch, every kiss, every moan, every sigh, every breath, into his memory, to drink deep for the coming drought.
And after sex, Anthony fell asleep first, and for a little while Sören just watched him sleep, studied him, so he could hold onto that, too. The memory of Anthony perfectly at peace, looking sweet and innocent, a moment when Sören loved him just for existing, the gift of his presence in Sören's life.
Day 1 - Wednesday
Sören had worked sixteen-hour days before. He had worked eighteen-hour days before, when surgery ran overtime. Something about today seemed so much worse; Sören felt ready to die when Anthony took him home.
Anthony had food ready for him when they got up to the flat, and as Sören flopped down on the couch and ate, Anthony propped one of Sören's legs up on his lap and began to give him a foot rub. Anthony's touch was so good Sören wanted to cry, feeling the tension melt out of him. After Sören was finished eating, Anthony pulled him close and just rubbed Sören's scalp for awhile, continuing to soothe him, pamper him.
Sören felt like he needed to put in some kind of effort so he asked Anthony about work, and listened while Anthony discussed his latest case. Then Anthony gave a nervous laugh and said, "I don't want to get you wound up when you're trying to relax before bed. Do you want to watch a movie or something?"
Sören nodded. "That might help me shut my mind off."
Anthony and Sören looked through the DVDs; earlier that year they had gotten some DVDs of films that came out last year, and now Anthony picked out The Dark Knight Rises in the Batman franchise. "Mmmm, Christian Bale," Sören said, and immediately regretted having no brain-to-mouth filter when he was tired, at the annoyed look Anthony shot him. Then Sören nudged him and said, "Well as you can see, I go for a certain type. Tall, dark, English..."
Anthony's lips quirked and Sören knew that was a good save. Shaking his head and chuckling, Anthony put the DVD in, and he and Sören cuddled together on the couch, Anthony spooning him from behind, arms around him.
Sören was tired enough that when the opening credits began, he had a random silly moment, laughing to himself as his mind went back and forth between English and his native language.
"What's so funny?" Anthony asked.
Sören leaned back against him and looked up. "You know what we call Batman in Iceland?"
"What, Batturmann or something?"
Sören snorted. He shook his head. "No, silly. We call him Leðurblökumaðurinn."
It took a moment - Sören looked over his shoulder and watched Anthony reacting, his mouth opening, looking absolutely dumbfounded. Then Anthony said, "You're taking the piss."
"I am not. That's exactly what we call him. Leðurblökumaðurinn."
"What the bloody hell is wrong with your language."
Sören threw his head back and laughed, amused rather than offended. "I don't fucking know, in that particular case."
"That's just... that's just wrong." Anthony laughed too. "Le-Leðurblö- what?"
"Leðurblökumaðurinn."
Anthony laughed harder. "Have you ever seen the old American TV show from the 60s?"
"The one where when someone gets punched or kicked or whatever the words POW and BAM and THWACK show up on the screen?"
Anthony nodded. "That's the one."
"I've seen a few episodes. Dag loves that shit."
"How did your brother get into that?"
"Oh, one of his professor colleague... friend... people." Sören felt like more of his brain cells were dying with each moment he was awake. "Proust or something."
"And you've watched it with Dag, so... you know the theme song, right?"
Sören and Anthony started singing in unison, "Na na na na, na na na na, na na na na, na na na na..." and then Anthony sang "Leðurblö-ku-duh-durr-bluh-blahdeblah-ppffft" and Sören lost it, doubling over, tearing up, wheezing.
"I love you," Sören choked out through his hysterical laughter.
"I love you too, IKEA." Anthony skritched Sören's curls and then his beard, and Sören snuggled into him with a big smile.
The good laugh and feeling close to Anthony put Sören to sleep a short while later. He was aware of Anthony carrying him and tucking him in bed, and gave a sleepy smile as he felt Anthony kiss his brow before rolling against him, spooning him once more. "Sleep well, love," Anthony whispered.
Day 2 - Thursday
Anthony was already at work when the alarm clock went off. Sören groaned as he slammed it, and buried his face in the pillows, making noises. He did not want to get up - he hadn't gotten enough sleep last night, much as he'd done little other than eat, dozing off soon after the movie started. Sören knew this was just the beginning of running on fumes.
He sat up, forcing himself awake, even as his brain took awhile to catch up to his body even with a good night's rest, even with coffee. He didn't have a lot of time before he had to leave.
Before he could get off the bed to visit the bathroom, he saw a note from Anthony on the bedtable by the clock.
I love you, Brown Eyes. I'm still laughing at Lederhosenblarglefjördbörksmerg this morning. Thank you for being the sunshine of my life.
Sören giggled at Anthony's mangling of the Icelandic name for Batman, and then he pressed the note to his nose, breathing in the touch of Anthony's cologne, letting out a little sigh. Moments like this made him feel incredibly loved, and he was grateful for it. Sören tucked the note away in his keepsake box with Anthony's other handwritten notes, and felt himself smiling as he got ready for work.
He needed the smiles, as he had a rather depressing pediatric consult when he got into work - seeing kids face life-threatening conditions was always difficult for him - and then he had a pre-surgery consult that was also upsetting, as it was with a young man who had gotten married recently, and he and his wife couldn't stop crying. It made Sören get choked up too, seeing how much they loved each other and wanted to have a long, happy life together, and Sören thought of Anthony and hoped they would never have to face something like what this couple was facing. Our lives are hard enough.
Sören had two surgeries scheduled that day - one was a biopsy, and the other was a craniotomy to remove a tumor. His break fell between the two procedures, and he typically shut off his cell phone to not be disturbed while he was operating. After he scrubbed out of his first surgery, he turned his cell phone back on and saw he'd gotten a text from Anthony.
Want some company on your break?
It hadn't been that long since Anthony texted; Sören looked at the clock and saw Anthony would be leaving Lincoln's Inn soon, which meant he could stop at the National on his way home. Please, Sören replied with a heart emoji at the end.
Sören took time to visit the bathroom and stretch a little, and Anthony was already in the cafe when he arrived, with two big cups of iced coffee. Sören felt that flush in his cheeks and flutter in his stomach looking across the room at him - Anthony looked so dapper in his navy pinstripe suit and light blue shirt, and Sören still thought he had the most beautiful green eyes, like emeralds, long-lashed and expressive. Anthony rose from the table as soon as he saw Sören walk in, and held out his arms. Sören made a beeline for him, and Anthony scooped him into his arms and held him tight. They just held each other for a few minutes, rocking each other, and Sören snuggled into Anthony's chest - the shield wall of him made everything OK again.
"I love you, IKEA," Anthony said, rubbing his nose in Sören's curls.
Sören looked up and met his eyes. "I love you too."
Then Anthony took Sören's face in his hands and kissed him deeply, not caring who else was watching them. Sören moaned into the kiss and then sighed, wishing they had more time.
It was late when Sören got home, and he rummaged around in the fridge to get something to eat. Briefly, he wished Anthony would have cooked him something. Sören ate alone on the couch, since Anthony was already in bed, and when he finished eating he showered alone and climbed into bed beside Anthony, trying hard to be quiet and careful and not disturb his sleeping mate.
But then Anthony rolled towards him and after Sören closed his eyes, Sören felt Anthony tuck something into his arms - Tony the stuffed tiger. Sören couldn't help giggling and he kissed Anthony's cheek. Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose and tousled his curls.
"I miss you," Anthony mumbled, and then he went back to sleep before Sören could respond.
Day 3 - Friday
Sören got up for work just as Anthony was leaving; Anthony came in when he heard the alarm go off the second time, and peppered Sören's face with kisses until Sören sat up, giggling. Anthony thrust a mug of coffee in his hands, and skritched Sören's head like a cat.
"Hi," Anthony said. "I have to go."
Sören frowned. Anthony frowned too.
Sören took a moment to ogle him, wearing a charcoal grey suit with a waistcoat, a white shirt, and of course, the tie Sören gave him. Sören watched as he put on his Rolex as the finishing touch, and Sören felt himself crinkling his nose, biting his lower lip. "You look handsome."
Anthony blushed. "Thanks. You look adorable. I wish we could stay in bed all day."
Sören laughed, nodding. "I do too." Sören gave a little growl. "I miss my sexy husband."
The word slipped out of him without thinking about it, and Anthony's face lit up in a big grin, making him even sexier to Sören. They weren't married yet, but they felt like it, the word came so naturally to him. Anthony's eyes twinkled. "I love it when you call me that. And... I miss my sexy husband, too."
Sören did not want his cock waking up right now, so he grasped at levity. "You know I'm really aching for you when I think you'd even look hot wearing George."
Anthony buried his face in his hands, shaking with laughter, and when he pulled his hands away from his face he was beetroot, his grin even bigger. "Sören, you're terrible."
"Takk."
"And George is innocent. He doesn't need to be exposed to our depravity." Then Anthony raised his middle finger, went to the closet, and came back with George in his hands. "Here, he can keep you company today at work."
Sören giggled.
Anthony lifted up George and gave the wig a stern look. "You take good care of him, OK?" Anthony made the wig nod, before he tossed it at Sören, who caught it.
Sören brought the wig with him to work, and on his break he took George to Queen's Square and snapped photos of the wig in different poses - "sniffing" the flowers, sitting on the steps of St. George's Cathedral, playing peekaboo behind a bush - to send to Anthony in text.
As he was coming back inside and about to scrub in, he saw one of his fellow surgeons, Elise Hansen, showing pictures on her cell phone to Colin and a couple of the nurses. Sören wandered over and saw it was pictures of Elise's two children, who were both under six years old. Sören would ordinarily be more enthusiastic and squee along with the others at the cute kids, Sören loved kids, but today he just felt a sting of bitterness, knowing Elise's children were why she wasn't working the same hours he was. And Sören hated himself for feeling that way, feeling like he was being unfair - kids did need their parents around, after all. But three days into this new schedule, Sören was already feeling rundown enough that it felt like the universe was mocking him, rubbing it in that he was going to have no life for awhile.
Sören found himself continuing to stew when Anthony picked him up at the hospital and drove him home, though Sören tried to keep his irritation contained, not wanting Anthony to think the irritation was with him - he was trying very hard to keep things on an even keel after the art show.
And then Sören did feel irritation with Anthony when they got home and Anthony produced a menu for them to look over, for the Thai place they liked. Sören also felt irritated with himself, felt like he was being a selfish asshole - he normally enjoyed Thai food, and he knew how lucky they were to be able to afford takeaway regularly, when there were many right in their own country going hungry. Anthony wasn't asking him to cook. But it was going to take time for the food to be delivered, when Sören had limited free time each day as it was - the time he spent waiting for delivery was the time that cut into his sleep schedule - and Sören wished Anthony would have ordered the food before he'd gotten home and let Sören heat up the leftovers. Sören also wished Anthony would cook sometimes, instead of them relying so much on takeaway. He knew Anthony's cooking skills were very basic, but even something simple that was homemade would be a welcome change now and again.
Anthony saw the disgruntled look on Sören's face and pursed his lips. "Is everything OK?"
"Yeah, it's just..." Sören made a vague hand gesture, and as much as he didn't want Anthony to feel attacked, he felt it was better to be honest. "This is going to take time, and I don't have that in large supply right now."
"Oh god, I'm sorry." Anthony's face fell. "I should have realized, and ordered something before you got here..."
"You could also, you know..." Sören swallowed hard. "Cook. Once in awhile."
Anthony gave a nervous laugh. "My skills are very rudimentary compared to yours, my dear. You'd get bored quickly."
Sören shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Basic would still be preferable to losing an hour of sleep as I wait for food to come."
Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, looking pained, and he exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry -"
Sören knew he was beating himself up, and Sören felt bad for saying anything at all, but at the same time he felt like it was better going forward that Anthony knew this rather than trying to sweep everything under the rug. Sören gave him a squeeze. "It's OK, elskan. This all got thrust upon us so suddenly and we're still, you know, figuring things out. It's a learning curve. Now you know."
Anthony nodded, and he patted Sören.
After Anthony placed their order, they curled up on the couch together; Anthony watched the BBC News. Usually they'd watch the news together and exchange some commentary about things going on in the world, but Sören was struggling to concentrate, and he found his mind continuing to go back to how irritated he was for feeling bitter that Elise Hansen had fewer hours because of her children. The thoughts continued to spin and spin, and Sören needed a distraction that the news wasn't providing with all of its doom; Sören reached under the coffee table and pulled out his tablet. He began to draw.
"What do you think about what's happening with Snowden?" Anthony asked.
"Mmm." Sören shrugged.
"Hmm."
Sören glanced over at him and saw his brow furrowed. Sören glanced back at his tablet. "I'm really tired, sorry."
"No, I know." Anthony rubbed his shoulder. "Sorry, I should give you your space." Anthony let out a little sigh. "It's just been on my mind a lot, since, you know... as a barrister the legality of everything is really interesting, but it's not the sort of thing I can discuss with my friends."
That's because your friends aren't really friends. They're not people you can hold meaningful conversations with. And then Sören felt a stab of guilt. At the moment neither am I, because I'm too fucking tired. Shit. Sören put down his tablet for a moment and said, "I have really mixed feelings about the entire thing which I can't quite articulate right now, like I said, I'm tired. But it's definitely disturbing how much the US government spies on its own people." Then Sören picked up his tablet and resumed sketching.
Anthony decided to change the subject for whatever reason, and Sören felt him staring and then noticed Anthony was looking over his shoulder. "What are you drawing?" Anthony asked.
Sören didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed, but then his mind's eye played a vision of the silver-gold brother when he was very young, hyper and exuberant, following him around, wanting to hang out in the forge. "What are you making? Let me see, let me see."
Sören got uncomfortable showing works in progress, but he handed the tablet to Anthony. It was a portrait of other-Sören - or at least that was how it was beginning. He was looking down...
...looking defeated.
"Oh, love." Anthony kissed Sören's cheek. "I'm sorry it's so hard right now."
"That's what he said."
Anthony facepalmed, and Sören realized that his knee-jerk coping mechanism of humor had struck again. Sören bit his lip, shaking with laughter. "I'm sorry. My brain-to-mouth filter..."
"No, you're good." Anthony grinned, his cheeks pink.
"That's also what he said."
Anthony howled, doubling over. "Goddammit Sören..."
Later when they went to bed, they held each other, and after a few minutes of the close physical proximity and feeling cozy and safe with each other, Sören felt something hard press against his thigh. Sören sighed, wishing he weren't so tired, and that his time was so limited - he had just enough time to get barely enough sleep to be functional. It's a miracle Elise even had time to make babies, if she ever worked this kind of shift years ago.
Anthony shifted a little, realizing Sören felt it. "I'm sorry. I know you're too tired -"
Sören felt a stab of guilt. He really wanted to make love with Anthony - he'd be enthusiastically, wildly going for it if he had more time and wasn't so run into the ground. And he didn't want Anthony to feel neglected and frustrated. He knew Anthony could take care of himself, or at worst take a cold shower and try to think unappealing thoughts, but that didn't seem fair, somehow.
"Shhh." Sören reached a hand down Anthony's pajama bottoms and pulled out his cock, resting his head in the crook between Anthony's neck and shoulder, kissing it as he felt Anthony's cock jolt in his hand. "I can take care of you."
Sören stroked Anthony's cock, thumb rubbing the sensitive frenulum, kissing and licking his neck and shoulder, internally grieving that his body was too exhausted to respond to Anthony breathing harder, moaning, what would normally get Sören going, driving him out of his mind with lust. When he felt Anthony tremble and spill over his hand, giving that little shuddery sigh that Sören loved to hear, Sören felt a flood of relief. He brought his fingers to his lips to taste Anthony, and groaned, wishing he could do more.
"Thank you," Anthony said, and gave Sören a soft, sweet kiss, tasting himself on Sören.
"I love you," Sören whispered, stroking his face. "Please know that."
"I do." Anthony took Sören's hand in his, squeezed it, and put it to his heart. "We'll get through this."
Day 4 - Saturday
This time Anthony woke Sören up with kisses before the alarm went off, and Sören grinned and giggled.
Anthony was still in his pajamas, even though it was well past the time he'd normally be up, and Sören could tell from his glasses that he was working on a Saturday, probably reviewing a case. Sören sighed a little - he always thought Anthony looked delicious in his glasses, and he wished he could spend the day in bed with Anthony, making love.
Anthony threw on a T-shirt and jeans to drive Sören to work, and with Anthony wearing sunglasses, the windows down and the wind blowing as they rode under the blue sky, Jamiroquai blasting, Sören could almost pretend they were on a scenic drive.
Sören ached for Anthony even more than usual while he was on his shift, thinking about him between patients and procedures. Before his evening break Sören bumped into Elise Hansen, who was kind and apologetic, and Sören once again felt annoyed with himself for being annoyed by her getting out of "hell" by virtue of her children.
Anthony had ordered fish and chips for both of them, which made Sören happy, digging right in. But not even one of his favorite things or the presence of Anthony could completely take away Sören's angst - he knew he was getting more irritable as the days wore on, and he didn't like it.
Anthony could tell something was wrong. "What is it, love?"
Sören exhaled sharply. "You're gonna think I'm an asshole."
"Probably not," Anthony said, meeting his eyes.
Sören looked around the cafe to make sure none of his colleagues were within earshot. Then he said, "Oh, it's just. One of my colleagues has kids so she was spared more hours and I feel annoyed every time I see her now even though she's a very nice person and I never had a problem with her before any of this started. I feel like a piece of shit."
"Oh, honey." Anthony chuckled and reached across the table and patted his arm. "I don't think you're being an arsehole. I think you're just... overworked and tired. It's understandable."
Sören munched a french fry, frowning. "I guess." Then Sören grasped for levity, not wanting to bother Anthony with his bad mood. "Maybe you should make your gran happy and put a baby in me so I can have an excuse to work less."
Sören had chosen the moment to say that right as Anthony was sipping on iced coffee and Anthony almost spat.
"Oh my god, Sören." Anthony turned beetroot, doubling over, eyes sparkling and crinkled at the corners, his face lighting up with his laughter. It took Sören's breath away and he felt a frisson of arousal, the sudden urge to take Anthony on the table right there, not caring who else was around. But he behaved himself.
God, I need a good fuck. Maybe that'll help me be less angry over stupid shit like poor Elise.
"This is a terrible idea and not a serious suggestion at all, but... maybe you could invent a child," Anthony said. "Say we adopted... I don't know, a child from a Third World country, or something, like one of those celebrities."
Now it was Sören's turn to almost choke on his food. He made a "phone call" gesture as his other hand reached for a fry. "Jæja, sorry Ed, I need fewer hours, my son needs me."
"What would we even name our son?"
Sören felt the wicked grin on his face. "Leðurblökumaðurinn."
Anthony facepalmed and shook with laughter. "I walked into that, didn't I."
Sören nodded, grinning harder as he made an addendum. "Leðurblökumaðurinn Hewlett-Johnson."
They were both in hysterics, enough so that people around the cafe were starting to stare at them, which just made them laugh harder.
"They think we're a bit barmy," Anthony said.
"Well, we are."
Anthony threw his head back, laughing. "Speak for yourself."
"Here, I'll give them something to really talk about." Sören put a french fry up each nostril and looked around the cafe with a mad grin on his face.
Anthony lost it, laughing until he cried.
"I am completely of sound mind to operate on people," Sören announced, loud enough for other people to hear him. "Yes, indeed."
Sören took the chips out of his nose and put them in a napkin before he took his next bite of food, as Anthony shook his head. "You go from being the sexiest thing in existence to being the most ridiculous thing in existence," Anthony said, "and you're at your sexiest when you're being ridiculous. It isn't fair."
"Oh, do we have a chips-in-nose fetish, now?"
Anthony threw a french fry at him; Sören caught it and ate it.
They calmed down enough to eat some more, and after a few minutes Anthony said, "I'm not keen on the idea of having children -"
"I know."
"If we had met when I was a little younger, I might have been more amenable to adopting someday, but I mean... if we adopted a baby, I'd be forty-three when they were ten. My parents had me when they were thirty and when they hit forty they were a little worn out by having a ten-year-old boy. They never took it out on me, but." Anthony's voice trailed off. "Doesn't seem fair."
"No, I wasn't trying to pressure you into having kids. I mean, as it is, I wouldn't feel right about it with both of us working so much."
"A cat, though." Their eyes met. "I've been thinking that when your schedule goes back to normal, maybe we should get a cat, or two cats, to keep each other company while we're at work. We work a lot, but we still spend enough time at home that we could take care of cats and spend time with them."
Sören nodded. He loved cats at least as much as he loved kids, and he felt a little wistful ache. "A cat would be nice. Or two cats."
Anthony nodded. "I'd also like to adopt from a shelter. My mum likes purebred cats but there are so many mixed breeds that need homes."
"I agree. I like all cats, doesn't have to be purebred."
"Doesn't have to be a kitten, either. Adult cats are fine. Though... I do like kittens."
The thought of Anthony with a baby kitten was so adorable to Sören he tried not to squeak... and that also made Anthony even sexier to him. Goddammit, I want him.
When it was time for Sören to return to work, Anthony and Sören clung to each other.
"Ugh, I don't want to go back," Sören grumbled. "I wish I could stay here in your arms forever."
"Me too," Anthony husked. He kissed the top of Sören's head, rubbed his nose in Sören's curls. "But you have to." He picked Sören's chin up with his fingers and looked into his eyes. "Be strong."
"I'll try."
"This won't last forever."
"Well, we don't know when there'll be an end in sight, either."
"No, but there will be one, eventually. I can't see the NHS not taking on a new neurosurgeon before year's end. And then..." Anthony began kneading Sören and purring like a cat.
Sören giggled.
"You should think of cat names," Anthony said. "Thinking about good things to come in the future might help."
"I've already got a name picked out." Sören grinned. "Leðurblökumaðurinn."
Anthony swatted his ass right there in the cafe. "You're terrible."
"Takk."
"And I love you," Anthony whispered in Sören's ear, before giving him a kiss where Sören's ear and jaw met, knowing that was a deliciously sensitive place.
Sören got off work at one AM, and he had told Anthony not to stay up to pick him up - it was bad enough that Sören was getting less sleep because of his schedule, he didn't want to inflict it on Anthony too. The Tube ride home was quiet and it gave Sören time to think, and he kept thinking about the laughter with Anthony earlier, how much he liked Anthony's company, how Anthony's visits when he was on break were the highlight of his day. He thought about how sexy Anthony looked in his glasses waking him up, and that sexy little kiss on one of his most erogenous places before he left.
Sören had eaten dinner with Anthony but he could use a snack, so he went in the fruit bowl after he'd washed his hands, and got a banana. Eating a banana made him think about sucking Anthony's cock, and the way Anthony had sucked him off more times than he could count - Sören remembered the time, early into their relationship, when they got hot and heavy in a supply closet at the National, with Anthony getting down on his knees right there and sucking him to climax.
Sören crawled into bed behind Anthony, and the feel of Anthony's body against his made his half-hard cock stiffen to full erection. Anthony stirred as he felt it. "Mmmf."
Sören began to rub against Anthony's ass, wrapping his arms around Anthony's waist. Anthony was shirtless in the August heat, though the central air was on, and Sören's hand slid up, fingers brushing a nipple. "Hey," Sören rasped, kissing Anthony's neck. "You want?"
"Yes."
Anthony tilted his face and Sören kissed him deeply as Anthony reached for the lube on the bedtable. Sören almost came just from the touch of his own hand as he readied himself. He wrapped his arms around Anthony again as they lay there on their sides and he pushed in, and once he was all the way in the tight, hot passage Sören almost came again. Sören took a few deep breaths and began to kiss the back of Anthony's neck.
Sören kept his thrusts slow at first, not wanting to come too soon. But Anthony's moans got the better of him and Sören's arms locked around him tight as he thrust harder, faster.
"God, I fucking want you," Sören growled into his neck.
"Oh, god, Sören." Anthony quivered and let out another moan. "I need you."
"Fuck." Sören's teeth grazed his neck.
Anthony started rocking his hips back at Sören, getting into it, moans getting louder. When Sören felt himself getting closer to that edge, knowing he couldn't hold back much longer, he reached down to stroke Anthony's cock, began licking Anthony's neck. "Need you to come for me," Sören whispered.
A few thrusts later and Anthony did just that, crying out "Sören!" as he exploded, seed flooding over Sören's hand.
Sören gave a wordless, hoarse shout as he spilled inside his lover, and Anthony tilted his face again to kiss him, both of them moaning into the kiss, drinking each other's cries as they trembled together, throbbing with sweet release.
"Thank you," Anthony husked when it was over, and Sören slipped out of him.
"Thank you." Sören chuckled. "Just what the doctor ordered."
"You have the most amazing cock. It's a fucking lethal weapon. That ring..." Anthony shuddered.
"I'm so glad you like my PA. I was a little worried our first time that you wouldn't."
"No, Sören, it's amazing. It's not just sexy as hell but it feels incredible." Anthony gave a sleepy, throaty laugh. "I should get you a diamond."
Sören giggled. "So if my Prince Albert gets a diamond, and it's a lethal weapon, it should have a name." Sören couldn't resist. "Leðurblökumaðurinn."
Anthony rolled into the pillows, shaking with hysterical laughter. "Sören, I swear to god."
Sören gave a happy little sigh. As exhausted as he was, and as worried as he was about how long this awful schedule would keep up, it was a moment he would always cherish. A moment that gave him hope. Maybe, just maybe, we'll get through this and we'll be all right.
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