Work Text:
Rain pounded the panoramic windows of Pitt Hospital as if it were trying to break through the glass and flood the emergency room. Inside, things were no better: a highway accident had brought in seven seriously ill patients, and Mateo was pacing the hallways like an enraged tiger in a cage.
His shirt was stained with saline, his hair was disheveled, and by two in the morning his voice had become hoarse. He hated it when things got out of his control.
–Where's Ogilvy? Mateo barked into the empty staff room, throwing his clipboard on the desk. I asked for his OR report half an hour ago!
–I'm here, Mateo. Stop being so wild.
Ogilvy stood by the coffee machine in the far corner of the room. As always, his scrubs were impeccably buttoned, not a single wrinkle missing, his face calm, as if he were on vacation. He slowly stirred the sugar in a plastic cup.
Mateo turned abruptly, closing the distance between them in three long strides. He practically breathed anger as he looked Ogilvy in the face.
–Because of your slowness, my bays are full! I need to know if OR 2 is free, or should I turn the ambulances around for the city one? Why should I run after you?
Ogilvy didn't pull away. He simply looked up, a look devoid of fear; he had seen too much in this life to be frightened by other people's hysterics.
– OR 2 is clear. The patient has been transferred to the intensive care unit, Ogilvy said without emotion. And the report is on your desk. You didn't notice it because you were too busy playing the role of martyr.
Mateo was speechless for a moment. He was infuriated by such calm and inaction.
– What did you say?
Mateo took another step, deliberately breaking all boundaries of propriety. Now they were separated by mere centimeters. The men were almost the same height, and the tension between them in the confined space of the staff room was almost palpable.
– Say it again.
Ogilvy slowly lowered his coffee cup onto the table, his eyes never leaving his.
– I said, slow down, he said quietly, sending shivers down Mateo's spine. Your screaming doesn't save anyone. It only betrays your panic. You're trying to control the entire situation because you're terrified of screwing up. But that won't work with me. I'm not your subordinate. And I won't let you boss me around.
He breathed heavily, looking straight into those dark, mocking eyes. Ogilvy read him like an open book.
Mateo was burning inside.
He wanted to hit him, to scream, but somehow all his rage quickly dissipated, leaving behind a strange, completely unworkable tension. It was too hot.
Ogilvy's gaze slid over his face, lingering on his clenched jaw, the stubborn arch of his brow. A faint smile appeared on his lips. He realized he had won this silent duel.
– Drink some coffee, Ogilvy said more gently, but with a clear subtext, taking a step toward the door. It's good for you to relax. At least sometimes.
He left, quietly closing the door behind him.
Mateo was left standing in the middle of the empty staff room. His heart was pounding, but no longer from anger at work. He turned and looked at the door, feeling a terrifying realization churning inside him: this man had just broken his control. And the worst part was, Mateo desperately wanted Ogilvy to do it again.