"It's unfortunate how much you remind me of Lord Farquaad from Shrek right now."
"And you've killed the mood."
Derek sets aside the medical magazine he'd been reading — "New England Journal of Medicine", of course — and pats the covers over his naked self.
"I thought you said I killed the mood." I remove the heavy coat sitting over my shoulders.
He hums lightly against his throat. "It takes a lot more than calling me a narcissistic, vain king from a children's movie — do I really look like him right now?"
"Just that one traumatizing scene, you know." My fingers embed themselves in his hair. "But God, your hair is a hundred times better."
"Thank goodness for that, huh?" He leans up to capture my lips with his.
Next morning, the five residents and their boatload of interns promptly arrive at the front desk where Bailey had called us.
"You haven't read any of it?"
"No. What if I'm in it? I don't wanna hear what she thought of me. I've heard enough of that already."
"Is it better to be in it or not in it at all?"
Before morning rounds, Meredith had conducted a joint call between me, her, and Cristina to discuss her latest discovery: Ellis Grey's diaries.
"I don't know." She explodes with mixed feelings.
The chief approaches the desk to semi-threaten us with the thought of even asking Bailey to assign us to an explicit specialty. Soon after, Bailey arrives to assign tasks, where only one of us actually works with an attending.
"Somebody page me?" Mark enters through the double doors, smirking when he spots me. "If it isn't the Rising Phoenix. Or do you go by Mrs. Shepherd?"
"Oh, look. It's Derek's other spouse, Mark Sloan-Shepherd." I hand him the chart Cristina left me with.
"What do you have for me?"
"Tenderness and erythema from her upper chest down her left arm. Cristina suggested irrigation and debridement before dumping this on me."
"Nice friends you got there."
"Thanks, Mom."
I swing open the curtain, revealing the woman in the bed.
"The mean one said you may have to amputate my arm." Mrs. Borsokowski states, referring to one Cristina Yang.
Mark examines her arm for less than a second. "That's a simple rash, Dr. Phoenix. It's not some sort of flesh-eating virus. Probably dermatitis."
"You're not telling me I have to go to —"
"Go to derm, get a tube of CeraVe cream, and make some new friends."
The walk upstairs to dermatology is less than pleasant as the chief yells at construction workers, Izzie verbalizes her disgust for Alex, and Bailey can't seem to be bothered by the interns.
But the second I enter dermatology. . .warmth and happiness embraces me.
"Hi. I'm Dr. Pepman." A woman in pink standing behind the desk smiles. "Can I help you?"
I head straight towards her. "Yes, please. Do you know where I can find some CeraVe cream?"
"Um. . .our nurses look like they're tied up, but if you don't mind waiting, I can get it for you myself. While you wait, would you like some water with raspberries?" She offers kindly.
"Sure." I nod once.
In a state of heavenly shock, I page Cristina and Meredith up to the dermatology wing just so they can experience the peaceful setting.
Even our personal lives aren't this calm.
"What happened? Who died?"
"Just. . .look."
"You paged us 9-1-1, Leven."
"I'm in the middle of studying for Hahn's pulmonary autograft, and I don't see an emergency?"
Rather than respond, I pull their hands and force them to sit on either side of me on the couch in the waiting room.
"Don't be fooled." I whisper to them. "Those are residents in their first year."
"No way."
"Shut up."
The two stare in astonishment.
Arms propped behind my head, I rest back against the couch. "You'd never think this is the same hospital seeing as what happens on the surgical floor."
"Ooh." Meredith nervously clenches her teeth. "I told Hahn I knew how to do a coronary artery re-anastomosis."
Cristina giggles to herself. "You don't."
"I know. I looked it up, but the kid's 8. He's got tiny little arteries."
"Okay, you know what? Snag me some of those grapes there, and I'll teach you."
"Oh, and then ask for Dr. Daisy Pepman. She can get you the suture kit and the 7-0 polypropylene." I snicker under my breath. "Daisy Pepman. Even their names are peppy."
One by one, I page the rest of the residents as well as George to bask in the glory that is the dermatology floor.
It's like the effects of drugs without the bodily damage.
"Alex stole a patient with a grapefruit growing behind his eyes, and your boyfriend couldn't give a crap! And just in case I wasn't sure, he actually said the words I don't give a crap." Izzie blurts out in one breath.
"Did you know there's such a thing as too much sleep?"
"What?"
"Come, join us. Have a seat."
So she listens to my words and sits down next to Meredith.
"Mer." George obstructs our frontal view from the couch. "I need you."
"You're ruining the vibes, O'Malley." My head rests against Cristina's shoulder as I toss a grape into my open mouth.
"What are you guys doing?" He questions in a hushed whisper.
"Leven found this magical world where doctors are happy, and patients are pleasant, and no one is screaming or stealing surgeries. Everyone just rubs each other. . .all day long."
"You all want to be dermatologists?" He questions in a rather serious tone. "Because dermatologists apply lotion for a living."
I wave him over. "Just sit with us for a bit. Experience the —"
"Okay, you all need to snap out of it."
George claps his hands together.
"Izzie. . .in the wild, wild west, there is always a woman in the saloon, and nobody messes with her. Even though they all have guns."
"She's a prostitute. The woman in the saloon is a whore, George."
"No. She just has other skills she uses to make her way in the world. So just, uh, use what you got, okay?"
He pulls her up and pushes her towards the door.
"Mer, I'm gonna take this, and I need you to help me sell an idea to Hahn and the chief."
George takes her away as well, but not before glancing back at me and Cristina.
"Leven, Cristina?"
"Hmm. Huh?"
"You're coming, too."
The magic of dermatology vanishes the moment we walk out those doors. Reality strikes like a shit ton of bricks when we arrive at the clinic to see our patient gasping with a pulse ox of 90.
Luckily, we get her into the E.R. in time and give her a dose of medication to lower her pulse ox and stabilize it. Bailey grants Cristina the opportunity to conduct the biopsy, leading her to believe the latter has an interest in dermatology.
"I could always move back to the trailer." Derek greets me with the upsetting thought.
"What on earth gave you the idea that I want you to move out?" My arms circle his neck before resting on his shoulders. "I want you here more than anything, Der."
His breath tickles the crook of my neck. "You don't have space for your things and your friends."
"Meredith and Cristina have copies of my keys. And I have copies of theirs. If I ever need space, I can always visit them."
"You're sure?"
"More than sure, you clingy thing."
I nuzzle his cheek lightly, smiling to myself as I think of how ridiculous it was to find dermatology even remotely interesting.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"We really became that gushy couple, didn't we?"