₊˚⊹♡ daddy doctor saves the day!
pairings. zayne/li shen, fem!reader
tags. 1.6k wc, dad!zayne, mom!mc, domestic fluff, slice of life, established relationship, brief mentions of pregnancy, zayne in scrubs *phew* bc need i say more. divider by anitalenia.
if zayne were ever to have kids, he’d have liked two.
a girl and a boy. not because he believed in symmetry or balance, but because he imagined them leaning on each other the way siblings in picture books did—arms slung over shoulders, shared secrets in the dark, always knowing they weren’t alone. that’s what he’d wanted for them. companionship and safety.
and that day, in the quiet lull following a ten-hour triple bypass surgery, he was reminded of that wish.
you sat on the little couch tucked into the corner of his office, the one he’d insisted on keeping even when they offered to replace it with something more suitable for the chief cardiac surgeon. but that couch had warmth stitched into its seams, and it reminded him of home. the kids were curled up beside you, both fresh from school, still in their matching navy sweaters and slightly crooked socks. your daughter, older by two years, had her head resting in your lap, while your son perched at the edge of the cushion, his feet swinging above the floor.
“mommy,” he asked, his voice sticky with curiosity, “how does daddy fix hearts?”
you smiled, smoothing your daughter’s hair back from her forehead. “well,” you began, your tone soft and thoughtful, “he does surgery. that means he opens the chest to get to the heart.”
they both stiffened with the delighted kind of horror only young children could summon. “he cuts people open?” your daughter gasped, her eyes going round.
you solemnly nodded. “yes. he makes a careful cut. then he opens the chest so he can see the heart. it’s very delicate work.”
your son’s face crumpled in awe and fascination. “like a... like a treasure chest?”
“kind of,” you said, chuckling, “only instead of gold, there’s a heart inside.”
your daughter shuddered dramatically. “ew! that’s so creepy.”
zayne stood in the doorway then, unnoticed. still in his navy scrubs, cap tucked into his waistband, his hair a little messy from hours spent in the OR. he looked tired, shadows carved beneath his eyes, but his mouth tugged into a quiet smile. you didn’t see him yet, but he saw you—all three of you—and it filled something deep in his chest he hadn’t realized had gone hollow during the hours of cutting and stitching and praying beneath the surgical lights.
“do people die?” your son asked suddenly, looking up at you with wide, serious eyes.
“sometimes,” was your honest answer. “but daddy works really hard to make sure they don’t. he’s the best there is.”
“so he’s like a superhero,” your daughter concluded. “but for hearts.”
before you could respond, you heard the subtle shift of shoes on linoleum, and turned your head to see the man of the hour. leaning against the frame of the office door, arms crossed, tired but watching the three of you with a soft, fatherly smile. you just couldn’t ever get used to the way your heart raced at the sight of your husband.
“you guys talking about me?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse from hours of breathing through a mask.
“daddy!” and of course, his kids squealed in unison, springing from the couch and bolting toward him. he caught them both easily, pulling them against his sides like puzzle pieces falling into place. his hands were still cool from scrubbing out, but they didn’t seem to notice. or maybe they didn’t care. they were too busy clambering over one another to tell him everything you’d just said.
“daddy! you cut people open!”
“you open their treasure chest!”
zayne laugh came out raspy, and you knew that meant exhaustion. but the joy in his eyes concealed the tiredness he carried. “is that what mom told you?”
“uh-huh! and then you look at their heart and fix it like legos!”
you raised your brows at him. “legos? that didn’t come from me.”
your husband shrugged, adjusting your daughter on his hip. “not technically wrong.”
“do you use glue?” your son asked seriously, squinting up at him.
“sometimes.” zayne knew it was best to play along. “we have special glue for blood vessels.”
your daughter gasped. “that’s so gross.”
“no, it’s awesome,” your son countered.
zayne set them down gently before walking toward you, his steps a little heavy from the long shift. he leaned down, kissed your cheek, and murmured, “thanks for covering the debrief.”
you smiled up at him. “they had questions.”
he sat beside you with a quiet groan, his leg pressing against yours. the kids climbed right back into the space between you, curling close like this was just another part of their daily routine. maybe it was.
“can we be heart doctors, too?” your son asked, tucking himself into zayne’s side.
“if you want to,” zayne replied, brushing a hand through his son’s hair. “but i think you’d be an amazing engineer.”
“what about me?” your daughter demanded equal attention.
he leaned in and tapped her nose. “you? i think you’d be a writer. or a lawyer. or maybe an astronaut.”
“what if i want to be a bunny farmer?”
zayne thought for a moment. “then i’ll build you a bunny hospital.”
you laughed, covering your mouth as the kids began to plan their future bunny farm, arguing over weather conditions and carrot rations. zayne didn’t say anything more. he just leaned back slightly, one hand resting on your knee, the other curled protectively behind your daughter’s back. he listened to their chatter, his eyes finding humor in their animated conversations. he was probably thinking, ‘they definitely got that from their mom’.
in retrospect, he had fixed countless hearts in his life, stitched vessels, replaced valves, saved lives. but this… this quiet, chaotic, precious moment? this was the one thing he’d gotten perfectly right.
although, you did want to admit that it was difficult to have a decent conversation with your husband while in the presence of your hyperactive kids. thankfully, it didn’t take long until you heard the soft tap of shoes on the hospital floor. the door creaked open, and in walked yvonne, the hospital’s nurse and receptionist, smiling fondly at your little family.
“hey, kids,” yvonne said brightly, “how about you come with me? i’ve got something special for you.” she paused, then with a wink, added, “dr. greyson’s got some treats in the breakroom.”
the kids’ eyes lit up, and without another word, they scrambled off the couch, practically tripping over their own feet in their hurry to follow yvonne. they were already chattering excitedly as they followed her down the hall.
as soon as the door closed behind them, you relaxed back into the couch and exhaled deeply. zayne, still in his scrubs from his long surgery, scooted closer and pulled you by the waist. he looked tired, but there was a softness in his gaze that was just for his wife.
“well,” you said with a light chuckle, “it’s nice to finally get some privacy.”
zayne’s smile was tender. “don’t get used to it.”
you laughed. “honestly, though, i’m surprised i don’t get jealous of yvonne. she practically has the kids wrapped around her finger. and she takes good care of you here.”
only then did your husband’s smile falter for a second, a brief moment of amusement flashing across his features. “jealous?” he repeated. “you’re jealous of her?”
“i just said i’m not,” you clarified. “but… well, she’s charming. sweet. she always knows exactly what to say.”
“you,” zayne cut you off, “are everything to me. i don’t need anyone else.”
you knew you’d always been his number one, but you always felt reassured when he said the exact words you wanted to hear. it was enough. and it always worked this way through your years of marriage—a little hint of jealousy could easily be fixed by reassuring words.
whatever zayne said, you believed. there was a sense of solemnity in his words that you’d be a fool to doubt him. perhaps, it was why your kids get scared when their dad gives them a little scolding.
“speaking of work,” you said, shifting slightly, “how did the surgery go? i heard it was a long one.”
zayne sighed at the remembrance. “it went well,” he started, “the patient is stable, but her family... they couldn’t pay the full fees. they just didn’t have the money.”
you frowned, your heart aching at the thought. “but you’re not charging them?”
“i waived my professional fees. i asked the husband to reach out to the government for financial assistance. they’re eligible for some kind of medical relief.”
you blinked in surprise, touched by your husband’s gesture. “you did that?”
he shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “it’s what i would want if i were in their shoes. i was never after the money when i practiced my degree.”
“if it were me,” you thought out loud, “what would you have done? if i needed that kind of help... would you have helped me?”
zayne turned to you fully, his eyes softening with sincerity. “i’d do whatever it took,” he firmly answered. “even if you needed a transplant, i’d give you my heart without hesitation.”
it might sound like a silly thing, but his quiet declaration tugged gently at your heart. there was a kind of love in his eyes you couldn’t quite put into words. and somehow, you were the one lucky enough to receive it.
he’d fixed countless hearts in the OR, but you knew, in this moment, that the heart he valued most was the one beating inside you.
maybe that’s why now felt like the perfect time to bring up what had been weighing on your mind all day. the very reason you’d driven straight to the hospital after work.
“well, as it turns out,” you brought up, shifting slightly, “i’m not pregnant. i got my period today.”
zayne let out a soft chuckle. “well, two kids are enough for now, don’t you think?”
you pouted, feigning disappointment. “but i want one more.”
he grinned and kissed your forehead. “you can try again next month. i’m sure we’ll make a whole team of little heart doctors.”