Listen

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/28088928.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band)
Relationship: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Character: Zayn Malik, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, Niall Horan,
Original Male Characters, Original Female Characters
Additional Tags: Psychiatric Hospital AU, Mystery, Thriller, Paranormal, Psychological
Horror, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Top Zayn, Bottom Harry,
Ghosts and Spirits, Graphic Description
Stats: Published: 2020-12-15 Chapters: 1/? Words: 6955

Listen
by dunklenacht310

Summary

“What’s upstairs, at the end of the corridor?” Harry asks Zayn as they climb the stairs.
Zayn shrugs. “The abandoned east wing,” he says. “It's been abandoned for ages. Why?”
Harry shakes his head. “Nothing. I thought I heard something coming from that direction,
earlier.”
Zayn hums. “Maybe the sex made you hallucinate,” he winks. “Or maybe there are ghosts
around the building.”

or

Harry is the new psychiatrist at St. Catherine's hospital. His main patient, Louis, has been
there for a while, but Harry hasn't come to a diagnosis yet, and he doesn't really know
where the voices Louis hears come from. Everything would still be fine if Harry didn't find
nurse Malik one day, talking to the same voices in the hospital.

Notes

Warning:
This story deals/mentions the theme of mental illness. Reader discretion is advised.
Some descriptions will be violent and/or disturbing (but the violence WILL NOT be
sexual). The general themes are listed in the tags.

Author's message
It's been almost a year, but as promised, I come back with new stories!
I've missed you all dearly, and I sincerely hope all of you guys are doing ok in these very
difficult times. I'm probably not going to be as quick in updating as I was before, but I
 promise to stick to a chapter-per-week schedule, and I hope my stories are going to bring
you all at least a moment of happiness.

I am still unsure on the number of chapters this story will have, since it's still a work in
progress, but it's not going to be more than 10.

“How long have you worked here at the hospital, doc? One, two months?” Louis asks with a smirk.
He’s lying down on the couch in Harry’s office, as it happens now twice a week, and he’s staring
at the ceiling with big, bloodshot eyes.

Harry clears his throat. “Three months, Louis,” he replies. “Why are you asking?”

“Three months,” Louis sighs. “And you’ve never heard them. Not even once.”

“Who are they?” Harry asks.

Louis chuckles. “The same they as every time we speak, doc. Niall and Liam. I hear them all the
time. They’re here, you know. They tell me stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Louis laughs. “I’m not supposed to tell you. It’s a secret. Or, well, not a secret. But you already
think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think anyone’s crazy, Louis,” Harry replies as patiently as he knows how. “The reason
why I chose this job is exactly that I don’t think ‘being crazy’ is a thing.”

Louis snorts a laugh. “So Maya in room 34, who peels off the wallpaper from the walls and
fucking eats it, she’s perfectly fine?”

Harry sighs. How does Louis even know about Maya? “Having a mental illness doesn’t mean
being crazy,” he answers.

“Oh, wonderful,” Louis sighs. “And what’s mine, doc? Am I a schizo? Or paranoid? Do I just have
good old boring PTSD? All of the above?”

Harry sighs too. I don’t fucking know what your problem is yet, Louis, he wishes he could reply.
“Let’s not worry about this for now, Louis,” he says instead. “But you can trust me, you know. So
if you wanna tell me what Niall and Liam are telling you, you can.”

Louis finally turns his head and stares at Harry in the eyes, for what feels like a short eternity.
“Most of the time they just scream and I can’t make out the words,” he says at last, in barely a
whisper.

Harry nods. “Why do you think they’re screaming?”

“They’re trapped here. In this world. And in this building.”

That’s more than Harry has managed to get out of Louis in the last three months, so he notes it
down, making sure he doesn’t look frantic even though he kinda thinks this is a huge step forward.
Niall, Liam. He thinks they’re trapped in this world. He’s conscious they’re dead.
“What are you writing?” Louis asks, sitting down on the couch. “You never write.”

‘Cause you never give me much to note down. But now you did. “Trapped in this world?” Harry
asks quietly, ignoring Louis’s question. “As in… they’re ghosts?”

Louis chuckles. “Sort of. More like spirits. You can write that down too, doc. ‘Louis Tomlinson,
32. Diagnosis: a fucking medium’. Whatcha think?” he snickers.

Harry chuckles too. “I don’t believe in ghosts, Louis. Do you?”

“Nope. Don’t need to believe. I know they’re here.”

Harry opens his mouth to reply. Louis seems particularly at ease today, and Harry wants to try and
push it just a little bit more. He’s always talked about Niall and Liam as though they’re voices in
his head. Today, they’re ghosts. Something’s changing. Maybe his delusion is evolving. Or maybe
it was this from the start, but he’s paranoid enough that he never trusted me enough to tell me. But
I’m getting to him. I’m gonna get to the bottom of this.

Harry never speaks, because right that moment there’s a knock on the door, and the moment he so
difficultly built with Louis is ruined. Louis’s eyes shoot open, and he retreats in a corner of the
couch, the one farthest from the door, hugging his knees to his chest in a clear closing off gesture.

Harry almost, almost curses out loud. What the fuck do they think they’re doing in that hospital,
interrupting a psychiatry session like that?

He doesn’t say anything to Louis, but he tries to send him a reassuring glance as he stands up and
goes for the door.

The man on the threshold is wearing a nurse’s uniform, and he’s one of the fittest blokes Harry’s
ever seen, with big caramel eyes, long eyelashes, perfect cheekbones and pitch-black hair. But
Harry can’t exactly care about that right now. “I’m in the middle of a session,” he says as
brusquely as he can, staring at the nurse. Malik, reads his tag. “And you just ruined three months of
work,” he adds in a whisper.

The nurse grimaces, but then school his face back into neutrality, and straightens his back. “Well
then, next time you decide to change your session schedule on a whim, make sure to inform the
afternoon nurse, which is me, so that we can also change the patient’s medication schedule
accordingly,” he retorts, barely audible. “This shit they’re taking needs to be assumed at specific
times or it’ll fuck them up, so I couldn’t wait for you to be done. Here, make sure he takes it,”
nurse Malik adds, thrusting a small plastic container with two pills in Harry’s hand, and gesturing
with his head towards Louis.

It’s partially true, Harry has to admit. He didn’t think to tell the afternoon nurse that he was going
to have a special session with Louis at five, and he should have remembered that Louis takes his
meds at six. Harry can even appreciate the nurse’s concern about Louis’s meds schedule getting
fucked up, because it’s true. The medication is very heavy, and it needs to be assumed regularly,
always at the same time, or it’ll fuck Louis up rather than help him.

Louis heaves a big, theatrical sigh from the couch. “Are you done flirting? That’s very
unprofessional, doc. I thought we were having a moment,” he declares. “And you, Zayn. How dare
you interrupt us like this?”

Harry doesn’t have time to even reply. Zayn arches an eyebrow at Harry and then takes back
Louis’s meds, inviting himself inside the office. “Hello, Louis. Be a good lad and take your meds,
yeah?”

Harry has to do his best not to gape, because as Zayn approaches Louis, Louis’s defensive
demeanour changes. His legs elongate until he’s sitting in a normal position, and even though he’s
shaking his head like he wants to refuse the medication, he doesn’t look worried or scared.

He trusts this nurse.

Louis is still shaking his head. “No, please, Zayn, I don’t want it. Niall and Liam scream louder
when I take it, please, it fries my fucking brain.”

Zayn shushes him. “I know, I know. But you have to take it, Lou, yeah? It’ll make you feel better
in the long run.”

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, almost pleading. “I’m not crazy, Zayn, I don’t think I need the meds
anymore. Doc? Can you tell him what you said earlier? That I’m not crazy?” he adds, looking at
Harry.

Harry sighs. “You’re not crazy, Louis. But you need the meds. You trust me and Zayn, don’t you?
We would never give you anything to hurt you.”

Louis takes a couple of breaths, but eventually he seems to really believe Harry, because he takes
the small plastic cup with the pills from Zayn’s hand, and obediently gulps them down with some
water, even showing his tongue to Zayn afterwards so that he can check that he really swallowed
them.

Zayn smiles. “Good lad,” he says. “I’ll leave you to your session now. Sorry I interrupted.”

Louis grins, his eyes already a bit hooded because of the meds. “And sorry for flirting with my
shrink, you mean,” he slurs. Harry curses a bit internally, because he knows the side effect of
Louis’s meds is sleepiness, so they haven’t got much time left for today.

“Not flirting. He was actually scolding me,” Zayn replies.

“Nah. He’s checking you out right now,” Louis stage-whispers, and Harry almost pops a coronary
as he immediately averts his gaze.

Not that he was really checking Malik out. It’s just that he’s really, really handsome. And Harry
might be a bit sex-deprived. Just a bit.

Zayn doesn’t comment on that, and neither does Harry.

Before any of them can say anything, they all hear an extremely loud crash coming from
somewhere at the end of the corridor. Louis whimpers and retreats in his corner of the couch again,
again hugging his legs to his chest, and a moment later Harry curses the fact that he never managed
to close the door of his office again, because one more person shows up.

“Is everything alright here? I heard screams,” a voice of a woman announces.

It’s Sandra Haynes, head physician of the hospital and head of the oncology department, and really,
Harry should just kick everybody out. “Yes,” he says stiffly, one hand already on the door. “I’m in
the middle of a session, and my patient needs quiet.”

Doctor Haynes doesn’t seem to give a shit about what he just said, and she sticks her head in the
door anyway.
That’s when Louis starts to panic.

He grabs Zayn by the hem of his nurse coat, with his eyes absurdly big in his face, and he shakes
uncontrollably. “Zayn, Zayn, I can’t, the noise, it’s Niall and Liam, they don’t like this, can’t you
hear them, I’m not crazy, they’re…”

“Do you need help, doctor Styles?” doctor Haynes asks, frowning.

“I need you to get out right now,” Harry replies, not caring if he’s being rude to a colleague, and he
shuts the door in her face, immediately turning to Louis and Zayn shushing him.

Louis seems to calm down a little when he realizes there’s just Zayn and Harry with him, and his
body slowly relaxes, while his breath evens out even more slowly.

None of them speaks for a moment.

“Louis?” Harry says at last. “We’re done for today. Nurse Malik will bring you back to your room,
okay?”

Louis nods. Zayn doesn’t say a word as he helps Louis stand up and gently guides him towards the
door. “Doc?” Louis says when they’re on the threshold.

Harry raises his eyes from his single line of notes. “Yes?”

“You really can’t hear them, can you?”

Harry smiles. “That doesn’t matter. Next time you can tell me what you hear, Louis.”

Louis sighs. “Yeah,” he just says, and nurse Malik brings him away.

Harry’s been in the break room for an hour already, nursing a cup of coffee which has gone cold
ages ago, and he knows he should eventually remove his coat and go home, but he can’t find the
will right now.

He stares at the note he took during his session with Louis earlier, and sighs for the umpteenth
time. He thinks they’re ghosts. He’s conscious they’re dead.

There’s always been something nagging at Harry, with Louis, since he started treating him three
months earlier, when Harry had been hired in the hospital as a psychiatrist.

He’s had his fair share of practice, even though these are his first months working solo. With his
former supervisor, Harry has treated many different kinds of mental illnesses. And never, not even
once, did it take him this long to have a diagnosis. With Louis, Harry hasn’t gotten to a sure
diagnosis yet.

Am I a schizo? Or paranoid? Do I have good, old, boring PTSD? All of the above?, Louis has
asked that afternoon.

Harry doesn’t know, and it’s starting to bother him so much that he can’t stop thinking about it, not
even when his shift is over and he goes home, where he should not think about his job.

He jolts when he hears another loud crash coming from upstairs. He wishes everybody would be a
little more careful in that hospital. Most of his patients are extremely bothered by loud, sudden
noises. He still doesn’t think that it’s the best idea, to have a psychiatry wing right in the middle of
a hospital, so close to all the other wings from which noises and things can be heard by the
patients.

But the hospital is huge, and it’s not like Harry can do anything about its structure. He’s been
already lucky enough to even be hired. He’s never worked in a hospital before. He’s not used yet to
how things work there. The chaos, the stench of medicine and death, and even the whole having
colleagues thing. When he worked as an assistant therapist in a psychiatrist’s studio, he only had
his boss to deal with.

Now that he’s on his own, and he doesn’t have enough money to open his own studio, the hospital
is as good as it gets, and he has to learn to deal with it.

He’s already looked for doctor Haynes and apologized for being rude earlier. She’s a nice woman,
and she probably gets how still not at ease Harry is in the whole hospital setting, because she
hasn’t taken it personally. She’s even apologized herself, for having interrupted his session out of
concern for Louis’s screams.

He hears someone shout upstairs, and he feels an ugly shiver run down his spine. He even stands
up, but then shakes his head and forces himself to sit down again, remembering what his
supervisor, doctor Barnes, taught him when he was still just an assistant. Don’t let them get to your
head, Harry. You can care about your patients. But once your day at work is done, you can’t let
them in anymore. Go out of the studio, and let it go. Unwind, and resume your work the next day.

“You didn’t tell me it would be this hard, though,” he tells Barnes, even though his old boss is
thousands of miles away, back to the States where he was originally from.

He’s almost deciding to finally go home, when the door of the break room opens quietly, and
someone enters it with a heavy sigh. It’s the fit nurse from that afternoon, Malik.

Harry braces himself, because he has one more apology to deliver, apparently. So he opens his
mouth, but Malik—Zayn—is quicker. “Oh, doctor Styles,” he says, clearing his throat. “I, um, I
looked for you in your office but you weren’t there, so I guessed you’d already gone home. I
wanted to apologize for earlier today. I really would have never interrupted a patient’s session with
you if I had another choice.”

Harry is a bit surprised, but he doesn’t let it show. “It’s alright, nurse Malik. I also apologize. For,
um, being rude in general.”

“Did I… did I really ruin all your work with Louis?” Zayn asks, a bit tentatively.

Harry shakes his head. “No, not really. He was just… opening up a little bit more. And then he
retreated again when you knocked. So I got a bit frustrated, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on
you. You were just doing your job.”

Malik nods, sighing. “I’m sorry. I’ve known Louis for a year, since he… was admitted here. I
know it can be a bit intense, working with him. Some days are good, but others are extremely bad,
innit.”

Harry nods too, lowering his eyes to his notepad. “I wish I knew why. I should have a diagnosis by
now. But I’m afraid I don’t,” he confesses. He shouldn’t be doing this. He doesn’t have anyone to
report to about Louis’s conditions, and besides, it’s very unprofessional of him to talk about a
patient, even if he’s just talking to another person who works in the hospital. But Harry’s been so
frustrated lately that he just needs to say something about it.
Zayn sighs. “Well, doctor Styles, you already have more results than our last psychiatrist anyway,
God rest her soul.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, frowning.

Zayn shrugs. “Louis trusts you. He, like… sometimes he talks to me a little, tells me stuff. And
today he told me that you’re a good one and he feels a bit less of a nutcase when he talks to you,”
he says. “I mean, granted, he then also added that maybe soon enough you’ll finally hear Liam and
Niall as well, but… what I mean is that he trusts you, even in his delusion. He never said anything
about Liam and Niall to old doctor Perez, or to anyone else for that matter. That has to be
something, right?”

Harry chuckles. “Yeah. Wait, you said that he never talks about Niall and Liam?”

Zayn shakes his head. “Never. He mentions them to me, and today I understood that he talks freely
about them with you. But whenever he talks to other people, he just talks about hearing voices.”

Harry hums. Louis told Harry earlier that day that it’s a secret. Maybe that detail is more important
than what Harry originally thought, so he notes it down. A secret?, he writes.

Zayn doesn’t comment on that, but he speaks again nonetheless. “I can’t even imagine what the
poor lad’s gone through. Being in such a terrible car crash and watching his best friends die, when
he barely got a scratch.”

Harry could point out that Louis might not have been physically hurt in the crash a year earlier, but
he got quite a huge mental disorder from that, but he gets what Zayn means, so he nods. “Yeah. He
never talks about the crash, though. Until today I didn’t even have the certainty that he was
conscious his friends are dead.”

“Baby steps, doctor Styles,” Zayn replies.

“You can call me Harry,” Harry decides before he can second-guess himself.

Zayn smiles. “Okay. Harry. I’m Zayn. Nice to meet you,” he says, and then ducks behind the door
leading to the locker room, closing the door while he probably changes. He keeps speaking to
Harry, though. “So, Harry, why are you sulking in this shitty break room when your shift has been
over for more than an hour?” he asks, almost shouting.

Harry chuckles, and another loud banging coming from the floor above almost deafens him. “Jesus
Christ,” he mutters. “You’ve been in this hospital way longer than me, nurse Malik, are all these
noises normal at night?” he can’t help but ask.

Zayn comes out of the locker room wearing a grey sweater and black skinny jeans, tying his hair in
a topknot, and frowning. “What did you say? Sorry, I closed the door so I couldn’t hear you.”

“I asked if all these noises are normal at night,” Harry sighs.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Zayn answers. “This locker room is fucking soundproof, I swear. Now I
understand why doctor Olsen and nurse Parker always fuck in there.”

Harry gapes. “Olsen from radiology and nurse Parker working in paediatrics?”

Zayn snickers. “You’ve been here three months already, doc. You should know all the gossip by
now.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “I haven’t exactly had time to socialize and get updates, nurse Malik.”

“You can call me Zayn,” Zayn grins, unperturbed. “What were you saying about noises?”

Harry sighs and shakes his head. “I just heard noises from upstairs, I don’t know. Do you think we
should go and che…”

“Nope,” Zayn replies surely. “The night nurses are good at their job, they’ll make sure
everything’s fine. Night nurses are the best, and I say so with all my pride, seeing that I was one of
them until yesterday.”

“Oh. That’s why I haven’t seen you before,” Harry realizes.

“Yep. I love having night shifts, but hospital rules say that the maximum of night shifts you can
have is three consecutive months, and then you gotta have at least another three months of ‘normal’
shifts,” Zayn explains mimicking inverted commas in the air and rolling his eyes. “Something to do
with mental health on the job or summat, you tell me, you’re the shrink.”

Harry nods. “Yes. Prolonged night shifts can mess up a person’s sleep schedule, even irreparably.
And that can cause sleep disorders, anxiety, even hallucinations and…”

Zayn grins and leans towards Harry, pressing a hand on the table at which Harry’s still sitting.
“Too many details. You’re ruining the romance of being in a deserted, silent hospital by yourself
all night, reading in peace and drinking a shitton of coffee while nobody can scold you about it,” he
declares with another grin, and when has Zayn’s face gotten so close to Harry’s?

Harry gulps down. “Uh, sorry, I guess? By the way, too much caffeine isn’t gonna keep you
awake. It’ll only give you a heart attack,” he points out, straining his neck to keep looking at
Zayn’s perfect facial features.

Zayn chuckles. “You didn’t answer my first question.”

“What was it? You talked a lot.”

“Fair,” Zayn laughs. “I asked you why you’re sitting here when you should have gone home ages
ago.”

Harry shrugs, closing his notepad at last, and standing up so that Zayn won’t be towering over him
anymore. Not that he wasn’t enjoying it. “I was just… thinking, I guess.”

Zayn hums. “Well, now’s the time to stop. First thing they taught me in med school. You can care
about your patients, but once your shift’s over…”

“You can’t let them in anymore, and you gotta let it go. Unwind and resume the next day,” Harry
finishes for him.

Zayn nods. “Yeah,” he smiles.

“It’s extremely difficult, sometimes. But you’re right. I’m gonna stop thinking about work right
now,” Harry declares, taking a deep breath and then releasing it. “Also ‘cause I gotta worry about
my dinner. I might have forgotten to shop groceries yesterday,” he adds, almost talking to himself.

Zayn chuckles. “Well, I can’t let our brand new shrink starve now, can I?” he says. “Let’s go, doc.
I’ve got a ton of food and a free evening. And you still need that update about hospital gossip.”
Harry blinks, but he’s not mental, so he doesn’t protest, and follows Zayn out of the hospital.

“So you’re telling me that Olsen and Parker have been fucking for three years and neither his wife
nor her husband know?” Harry almost shrieks.

Zayn laughs and nods, serving Harry another glass of wine. The bottle is almost empty, and all the
food is already gone. “Yep,” Zayn confirms. “There’s been a moment in which we thought we
were about to witness a fucking soap opera tragedy last year, when they were both ‘on their break’
and both the husband and the wife showed up to bring them lunch.”

“Jesus.”

“But then nurse Hollands took pity on the two fuckers and gave them a heads up, so nothing
happened. The four of them had lunch in the break room, together, and I don’t think the two
spouses ever realized just how awkward the whole thing was. We thought the big scare would
make Olsen and Parker tune it down, but next morning they were going at it in the locker room
like the day before never happened, bright and early. I walked in on them at the end of my night
shift.”

“Oh, God,” Harry sighs, but he can’t help the giggle escaping his lips. “So they’re still fucking?”

“Like rabbits. Neither of them looks at me in the face anymore though,” Zayn snickers.

Maybe it’s the wine, even though Harry hasn’t drunk that much, or maybe it’s just the easy way in
which Zayn has brought him to his place and cooked him dinner. Either way, Harry can’t stop
staring at Zayn. He’s really, really fit, and for a moment Harry imagines himself and Zayn fucking
in the locker room, instead of Olsen and Parker.

Not that he would ever be so inconsiderate on the job, but it’s a fantasy, so everything’s allowed.

He realizes that conjuring those images while he’s sitting right in front of Zayn isn’t the best idea,
because his brain barely gets to the part where they’re both in the locker room, hastily getting
undressed, and he’s already filling up in his jeans. Stop thinking stop thinking stop thinking, he
pleads with himself.

“You okay?” Zayn asks, but there’s the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Harry nods and clears his throat. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Zayn stands up. “You think too much,” he declares, grabbing the empty plates and taking them to
the sink, where he gently drops them.

Harry clears his throat again, and stands up to help Zayn with the rest of the items still on the table.
“It’s my job,” he answers.

Zayn chuckles and hums.

Once the table is empty and clean, Harry takes it as his cue to leave. “I guess I’ll, uh, head home
now. Thanks for dinner, Zayn.”

Zayn abruptly turns from the sink and faces Harry, with something wicked in his gaze, and his arms
crossed over his chest. “Or you could stay.”
Harry blinks. “Stay?”

Zayn chuckles again and slowly covers the distance between them, until he’s right in Harry’s
space, their faces so close Harry has to hold his breath, afraid it smells too much like wine. “Yeah,”
Zayn almost whispers. “Stay. You didn’t drink that much, but you still drank. It’s not safe for you
to drive.”

Harry gulps down, trying to calm down his traitorous dick. He’s just being considerate and
responsible, get a fucking grip. “Oh,” he murmurs dumbly.

Zayn grins. “And also, I’d very much like to fuck your brains out. If you agree.”

Harry almost chokes on his own spit, and he’s sure that he legit squeals at Zayn’s words. Zayn, on
his part, seems unperturbed, and he just keep smiling angelically, like he didn’t just suggest they
have sex.

“Oh,” Harry says again, even more dumbly. “Did I, um, did I hear that right?”

Zayn grins and nods. “Yes, doctor Styles. I suggested that I fuck your brains out, if you agree.”

Harry isn’t mental, cheers, so he nods energetically, knowing he must look like a fool, but not
exactly caring at that point. “Yeah, uh, yes. I definitely agree,” he confirms.

Zayn chuckles. “Good. Now help me with the dishes. They ain’t gonna wash themselves.”

Just like that, Zayn gets out of Harry’s personal space and starts doing the dishes, and Harry helps
him. They make a little bit of small talk while they clean everything, and it’s so natural and easy
that Harry starts to wonder if he just imagined the moment earlier, when Zayn was politely
suggesting they fuck.

He’s almost starting to think that yes, he’s imagined it, when the dishes are finally done and Zayn
stares at him with another wicked smile. Harry doesn’t have time to do much else, before Zayn is
in his space again, kissing him.

Harry hasn’t been with anyone in so, so long. He hasn’t had time, not after finishing his traineeship
period and being thrown into working solo so soon, with Barnes going away and the hospital hiring
him. Sex hasn’t exactly been at the top of his priority list, lately. So snogging Zayn is all it takes
for him to be well on his way to rock-hard, and he’s a bit ashamed about it, and a bit turned on too,
obviously.

Zayn’s lips taste like the vegetable soup they ate, wine, and cigarettes, even though he hasn’t
smoked once since they got to his place. Harry doesn’t have time to properly taste them as he
wants, though, because Zayn interrupts the kiss and looks at Harry in the eyes, all traces of laughter
and playfulness gone from his face, replaced by a small frown. “Harry? You wanna do this, right?
It’s like, okay if you don’t feel like it. We don’t have to.”

Harry almost kicks himself in the bollocks, because of course Zayn would mistake his internal
monologue for hesitation. “No no no! I want to. Very much. I was just…”

“Thinking,” Zayn finishes for him. “I know. But I just wanna make sure. If you don’t feel like it,
we can just go back to being colleagues. And friends, we’re definitely friends now that I’ve fed
you. The sex was just to have fun, yeah? It’s not necessary, and it doesn’t mean anything, so we
can just forget about it if you want.”

Harry doesn’t wanna forget about it, because Zayn’s fit, and fun, and apparently also very
thoughtful, and Harry’s still hard in his jeans. And for once he wants to do something about it,
something that is not just having a sad wank alone in his shitty apartment.

So he takes a breath, and instead of replying, he kisses Zayn again. “I’ll stop thinking right now,”
he declares on Zayn’s lips.

Zayn snorts a laugh, and it’s not exactly pretty, except it’s Zayn, so of course everything he does is
pretty. They laugh a bit while they snog again, but soon their hands are roaming on each other’s
body, and they stop laughing, too busy opening their mouths and sucking on each other’s tongue to
do anything else.

Zayn starts to lightly push Harry backwards, and Harry goes easily, letting Zayn direct him until
they’re stumbling inside what probably is Zayn’s bedroom. Harry doesn’t know because he doesn’t
have time to look around before Zayn’s on him again, pushing him more forcefully. He lands
sitting on a bed, bouncing a couple of times, and Zayn chuckles, hastily removing his clothes with
his eyes always trained on Harry, who takes the hint and starts doing the same.

Soon, they’re both naked on the bed, Zayn straddling Harry while his fingers trace the ink on
Harry’s chest, stomach and hips. “Didn’t know you had tattoos,” Zayn murmurs, his breath a bit
laboured.

Harry chuckles. “I don’t exactly show my ink at work,” he replies, running his hands up Zayn’s
arms, over Zayn’s own sleeves of tattoos. “I like yours.”

“First hospital I applied for didn’t hire me ‘cause of the ink,” Zayn shrugs. “Good thing St.
Catherine’s doesn’t care about it, or we’d both be unemployed.”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, that’s why I never had the guts to tattoo my hands or any place that is visible
when I wear my work clothes. I always thought they would eventually be a pro…” he doesn’t
manage to finish, because Zayn grins and kisses him again, chuckling on his mouth while he does
so.

Harry doesn’t find it in his heart to be offended that Zayn so blatantly shut him up, though, because
then Zayn rocks his hips, and their hard dicks slide against each other, and the friction is already so
fucking good that Harry can’t suppress a groan.

Zayn seems to enjoy the sound, because he looks at Harry in the eyes and bucks his hips again, and
Harry feels his eyes already roll back in his head as he lets out another quite embarrassing moan.

Zayn chuckles. “You’re a sensitive one, doc, ain’t you.”

Harry incredibly manages to clear his throat and speak in a normal voice, even though his last
braincells are exploding because of how aroused he’s getting. “It’s just… been a while.”

Zayn hums, and wraps a hand around both their dicks, his thumb slowly tracing Harry’s slit. “Then
don’t worry, doc. I’ll make it worth the wait.”

When Harry opens his eyes the next morning, he feels sore everywhere, even muscles he didn’t
even remember he had. It’s a good kind of soreness, though, he thinks with a small chuckle as he
turns in Zayn’s bed, settling on his back and staring at the ceiling.

I had a one-night stand, he thinks. I always thought I wasn’t a one-night stand kind of person, and
yet I went and had one. What does it mean? Does it even mean anything?
“I swear to God, if you don’t stop thinking so loudly I’ll kill you,” Zayn mutters.

Harry starts a little, even though he should have known Zayn would still be there. It’s his bedroom,
after all. When he turns to actually look at Zayn, he finds him bed-tousled, looking all kinds of soft
even though there’s a grin on his lips. “Sorry. Good morning,” Harry says.

Zayn chuckles. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

After the way you fucked me three times in a row, I passed the fuck out, of course. “Yeah,” he only
replies. “Thanks for, um, letting me stay.”

Zayn is still grinning. “I doubted you could have stood on your own legs, after last night.”

Harry feels his face warm up, but he laughs anyway. “Yeah. I… I had fun. It was fun.”

“It was,” Zayn agrees with a sigh, stretching a little bit. The covers fall off his chest, exposing the
expanse of it, full of tattoos and looking smooth and climbable.

So, because Harry doesn’t know if they’ll have another night like the last, he decides to take one
last advantage of it, and moves to straddle Zayn, his lips immediately going for one of his nipples.

Zayn emits a surprised sigh, but one of his hands goes to card through the hair on the back of
Harry’s head. Harry feels Zayn hard in between his legs, and gives an experimental grind of his
hips.

Zayn groans. “Fuck, haven’t been this hard in the morning for ages,” he comments. “I guess that’s
what you do to me, doc. Always have.”

Harry frowns, and he can’t help grinding his hips into Zayn’s again, but he also raises his head to
look at him in the face. “Always have?”

Zayn chuckles and nods. “I should be mildly offended that you didn’t notice me before yesterday,
but as for what concerns me, I’ve noticed you alright since the very first day you started working at
St. Catherine’s.”

“Really? How?”

Zayn’s hands slide down Harry’s sides, stopping just over the curve of his arse, and pushing so that
their dicks get some more friction against each other. Harry groans, but still waits for a reply. “You
always went out of the hospital right when I was going in to start my night shift. That’s how I saw
you.”

“Oh. I… I never saw you.”

“Because you don’t exactly ‘let it go and resume the next day’ right when your shifts end, doc,”
Zayn remarks, and it’s maybe more serious than what the grin still on his face would imply. “You
were too busy thinking.”

Harry, despite the arousal and the good-natured scolding, laughs. “I’ll stop thinking right the fuck
now,” he assures.

“Good,” Zayn sighs, giving Harry’s arse another push and making them both heave another groan.
“Because the only thing I want you to think about right now is the next few hours, in which you’re
gonna ride my dick.”
“Hours?” Harry almost squeals, and his cock gives a traitorous twitch at the thought.

Zayn chuckles. “Yep, doc. Hours.”

Harry thanks God that it’s a Saturday and they both have their day off, because he soon realizes
Zayn means it, when he says hours.

“I thought you were so tight just ‘cause it had been a long time,” Zayn pants in Harry’s ear, “but
you’re always gonna be this tight, ain’t you.”

Harry doesn’t even reply. He just moans, because right that moment, Zayn thrusts more forcefully
into him, hitting his prostate dead-on, and Harry’s hand finds purchase on the locker in front of
him, making it rattle.

Harry squeezes his mouth shut, because what if someone hears them? Are they gonna become the
new Olsen and Parker of the hospital? Except that, well, they’re not cheating on anybody. Just
being extremely reckless on their workplace.

Zayn is fucking Harry from behind, hard and fast, his hands holding Harry’s in place on the cold
metal of the locker in front of them, and Harry would very much like to say that he never imagined
ending up fucking in the locker room before the start of their shift, except that he saw it coming as
soon as they both entered the room, and then Zayn locked the door with his wicked grin directed at
Harry.

They’ve been going at it for two weeks already. Harry feels like they started fucking that Friday
night, and then they never actually stopped. Which is the complete and utter truth. It’s like they
never have enough. Not even enough to manage to restrain themselves now that they’re at work,
and their shift starts in fifteen minutes, and anybody could show up.

Zayn’s low chuckle in his ear makes Harry shiver, almost bodily. “Doc?” he says, in a warning
tone.

Harry chuckles too, and nods frantically. “I’ll stop thinking. Right now,” he assures.

“Good lad,” Zayn compliments him, and bucks his hips even harder, making Harry’s whole body
—and the locker—rattle.

Harry pants audibly, his lips not sealed anymore. How’s he supposed to stay quiet if Zayn has
learned to locate his spot in three fucking seconds, and he keeps just slamming into it so hard?

They haven’t even undressed. They just have their jeans opened, and yet Harry can hear the sound
of their hips meeting, and it’s so hot it’s almost enough to make him come.

It’s about then that Harry hears something else, though.

There’s a loud bang coming from upstairs, the sound of metal trays rattling to the ground. And
then, Harry hears someone shout his name. “Harry,” he hears, like it’s a scream coming from afar,
and also a whisper in his ear.
His whole body freezes. “Zayn?” he asks, panting, while Zayn still fucks his brains out. “Did you
hear that?”

Zayn only answers by grabbing Harry’s hips with his hands. “The only thing I wanna hear right
now,” he grunts, “is that sound you make when you come on my dick.”

And well, it’s not like Harry can ever deny Zayn anything, in their current position.

He starts to match Zayn’s thrusts by thrusting his own hips backwards, and Zayn grunts again,
losing his rhythm a little as he gets closer and closer, and Harry isn’t better off, because he starts to
feel heat boiling in the pit of his stomach.

Zayn bucks his hips only three more times, and the next moment Harry’s coming, moaning Zayn’s
name as his orgasm washes over him with a force that has Harry’s legs give out, and the hands he’s
got propped against the locker slide down.

Zayn holds him up, thrusts one more time, and then he comes too, spilling in the condom and
biting down on Harry’s shoulder, while they both bend over, Zayn’s chest plastered to Harry’s
back even through the fabric layers of their tops.

They stay like that for a moment, breathing raggedly and trying to recover. Harry’s vision has gone
white for a moment, and this has probably been one of the most powerful orgasms he’s ever had in
his life. It’s because it’s Zayn, and it’s obviously because they shouldn’t be doing this here.

“You okay, doc?” Zayn asks after a while, when they both manage to disentangle and they make
sure the other’s hair and face is presentable.

Harry chuckles, drying a bead of sweat from Zayn’s temple with his thumb. “I’m peachy and well-
fucked,” he replies. “And now I’m gonna think about your dick while I work.”

Zayn grins. “Good. Go do your job, and we’ll see what we can do about you thinking about my
dick when our shifts are over.”

Harry laughs, and they both wear their uniforms—Zayn has a whole white uniform, with shirt and
pants and even crocs, while Harry just has his white coat to sling on top of his normal clothes—and
they get out of the locker room.

Harry heaves a relieved sigh when he sees no one’s in the break room yet. Zayn winks at him.
“Told you it was safe. We ain’t gonna be the new Olsen and Parker, doc, don’t get your knickers in
a twist,” he says as they also get out of the break room, going for the stairs.

Harry remembers then, hearing the weird sounds and his name being called. “What’s upstairs, at
the end of the corridor?” he asks Zayn as they climb the stairs.

Zayn shrugs. “The abandoned east wing,” he says. “It used to be an oncology research wing, like, a
year ago. Then the government cut the funds for the hospital, and there was no money to keep that
wing going, so it’s been abandoned ever since. Why?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nothing. I thought I heard something coming from that direction, earlier.”

Zayn hums. “Maybe my dick made you hallucinate,” he winks. “Or maybe there are ghosts around
the building.”

Harry rolls his eyes, and punches Zayn in the shoulder for good measure. “Shut up, Zayn,” he
mutters, feeling his cheeks go on fire while Zayn only snickers.
“So, you and Zayn, huh?” Louis grins from the couch.

Harry has to use all his training to keep his expression neutral. “What do you mean, Louis?”

Louis laughs. “Did you know that I was a cop? Before… this?” he says. “You’re not the only one
who knows how to read people, doctor Styles.”

Harry arches an eyebrow and doesn’t reply, and Louis waits just a couple seconds before laughing
again. “Nah, just joking. Niall and Liam told me that you were going at it in the locker room
earlier today.”

Harry’s stomach turns unpleasantly. Of course Louis is not psychic, and there are no ghosts telling
him about what’s going on in the hospital, but then how does Louis even know about that?

Harry clears his throat, and decides that it’s better to just indulge Louis a little bit. “And how did
Niall and Liam know, Louis? Let’s say that I was really in the locker room today. I’m afraid I
didn’t see anyone else in there.”

Louis sighs and stares at Harry for a moment before replying. “That’s exactly what you should be,
doc. Afraid.”

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