This Love

1

He pulled out a pen from his bag and wrote some numbers in her hand. "That's my number, call me for your laundry. I'll pick it up, make sure it's squeaky clean."

He dropped her hand and smiled at her. God, his smile. "My name's Benjamin Warren. I go by Ben. Call me, okay?"

At that, he runs away, stopping by a trash can to throw his empty coffee cup in it.

×+×+×+×

As Miranda got home, she felt sticky and sugar-y all over. God, that Benjamin Warren must have no taste buds with that much sugar in his coffee. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

She looked at the numbers scribbled in her hand. She has been looking at it the whole walk from the park to her house. It was barely written, more of a doodle than actual numbers, though she could understand it, somewhat.

She took the numbers down and took a shower, scrubbing all of the sticky mess Benjamin Warren had spilled all over her.

After that, she went and got to Seattle Grace, where the first day of the merger was happening.

Miranda stood outside of the doors, looking at the hospital from outside. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but she could feel the difference. It was like the hospital was holding its breath.

She sighed and stepped inside.

Orange scrubs were everywhere. It made her dizzy. It was vibrant and weird and so out of place.

All these different faces, different unfamiliar faces that she was going to work with, compete with, and trust her patients with. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.

She may not go head-to-head with them, but Seattle Grace is her home, and as a hospital, they were very territorial about themselves. There has got to be some boundaries, and if they step over their lines, this merger was going down.

×+×+×+×

Miranda entered the OR for a simple appendectomy. Nothing out of the ordinary, of course, just a simple, everyday procedure.

She scrubbed in, just as the patient was going under. She sang Aretha Frankin's "Think" twice, in her head, and went inside the OR.

But she stopped in her tracks.

Beautiful brown eyes.

Even though she had only seen them once in her life, she would recognize those shining brown eyes anywhere.

"Benjamin Warren."

The man in front of her, half his face covered in his mask, turned to her. He had a normal blue scrub cap, and he was seated at the head of the patient. Anesthesiologist.

"Uhm, do I know you?" Warren asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Miranda Bailey. We met this morning. Via hot coffee." She raised her eyebrows, walked to the patient's side and smirked under her mask.

She looked intently at his eyes as the realization hit him. "Oh! You!"

The staff snickered. Nobody just went 'Oh! You!' on Miranda Bailey. She was a legend.

"Yes. Me!" She rolled her eyes then closed her eyes as she stepped up her stool. Silence covered the room for her routine moment, much like Shepherd's "beautiful day to save lives" mantra. She opened her eyes and looked at her scrub nurse, Bokhee. "15-blade." She reached out and took it, and began to cut.

"I didn't know you worked here." He commented as he watched her work.

"We met this morning, Dr. Warren. I would say there are a lot of things you don't know about me." Miranda smiled beneath her mask.