Who would have thought

57

"They always forget the sauce," Meredith groaned as she dug through the bags sitting on her coffee table. "It can't be that hard to remember sauce. It's sauce. You can't actually have breadsticks without sauce. It's wrong...and I can't believe they forgot the sauce."

"I told you to remind them when you called," Derek sighed. "You're the one that wanted to trust the human spirit or whatever it was."

"Okay, no talking," she frowned. "And I thought it was common sense. Breadsticks, sauce. It would like if I called for a peanut butter sandwich, I'd expect them to put jelly on it. Completely common sense."

"You would order in a peanut butter sandwich?"

"Well...no."

"So that was probably a bad example."

"Okay, fine. Chicken fingers. If I ordered in chicken fingers, I would need honey mustard."

"Actually...I think we have honey mustard in the fridge so if they forgot it...you'd be fine."

"Derek!" she sighed. "Trying to make a point here. The point is, common sense. Common sense means...it's common sense. Breadsticks and sauce. Peanut butter and jelly. Chicken fingers and honey mustard. It's a point not a real scenario or whatever."

"I'm sorry they forgot your sauce," he sighed.

"Thank you," she smiled as she fell back against the couch, looking over at his chicken cesear salad. "Bite?"

"Of course," he nodded, scooping some onto his fork and handing it over to her.

"Thank you," she said around the salad as she reached for a breadstick. "Sauceless breadstick?"

"Sure," he laughed taking it from her.

"At least I still have my pizza," she smiled happily, grabbing a piece from the box and turning so that her feet were resting on his lap.

"And that has sauce on it," he nodded.

"Because it's pizza. If pizza didn't have sauce on it...I think we'd have to put them in jail for improper pizza preparation."

"You're cute."

"You always say that," she rolled her eyes.

"Because you are," he shrugged.

"There's nothing cute about this tonight," she shook her head. "I think I still smell like brain."

"Brain has a smell?"

"Well...blood."

"You don't smell like blood," he sighed. "You smell like that flower you always smell like. And you."

"And hospital," she wrinkled her nose.

"You don't smell like hospital," he rolled his eyes.

"I definitely smell like hospital. You smell like hospital."

"And here I was trying to be nice to you."

"Not my fault you smell like hospital."

"I do not."

"You do too."

"Maybe you do smell like blood."

"That's mean," she giggled.

"You started it," he laughed.

"Really mature, Der."

"I know."

"So weird," she rolled her eyes, resting her head against the pillow of the couch, her hair falling from her ponytail.

"Mer...."