forty six | derm

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"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.

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