I Want You

Whip Appeal

Whip Appeal

After updating and getting chewed out by the patient, Leslie Wilson, Ben walked side by side with Miranda. "Here's what we do...," he started. The way he figured, no one was to blame; especially if they were each doing what they were supposed to do to help the woman. "You draw a CBC, a chem 18 and let's do some genotyping studies."

She looked at him, not entertaining a word that he was saying. "Oh. Here's what we do? We? Did you not hear her? The girl is traumatized. The only thing we are doing is getting sued! Because of you!" She turned and headed down the hall.

He reached out and touched her arm before she could get too far. She glowered at him and with that look, he knew he'd messed up. It was giving him goose bumps. How did she do that? He removed his hand. "Where do you even get off speaking to me like that? You have no idea what went wrong in that OR."

She faced him fully. "Well, here's what I know. I know that you're new here. I know you probably still have a chip on your shoulder 'cause your parking space at Mercy West was better. And I know you're an anesthesiologist, which means you probably make buckets of money logging reasonable hours, sitting on your behind and flipping through Architectural Digest while somebody on the other side of the curtain does the real work and gets sued for it."

He'd heard enough. Even if she was gorgeous, she had no right to say those things. "Excuse me, you have no idea—"

She cut him off. "I don't know what they did at Mercy West, but here at Seattle Grace, we expect to be able to trust the gasman, trust him to do his job so we can do ours." Miranda gestured at his chest and he had half a mind to take her hand and kiss it. Or at least kiss her lips which were flapping so much. They looked soft. He didn't and she kept going. "We expect the gasman to stay awake at the switch, no matter how long and boring a procedure might be. We expect the gasman to stay focused enough to keep the patient unconscious!"

Doctor Bailey stormed off with her lab coat floating behind her. And Ben was shocked. Who the hell was this woman? No one talked to him like that. He was an Alpha male, women adored him and men wanted him to be their best friend. But this... this Doctor Miranda Bailey challenged all of that. "What is going on?" Knox asked coming up behind him.

"Am I still here? I feel like she obliterated me," Ben said, still shocked.

"What was that all about? Everyone is looking."

"She... she yelled at me." Ben gave Knox a puzzled look.

"You liked it, didn't you? You masochist."

"No! Not really, eh, maybe a little, but damn—talk about matter-of-fact."

"But I told you that. Didn't I tell you that?"

"Yes, but I kind of feel like you didn't give me enough of a warning. Shit." He told Knox about what happened. Knox went into doctor mode asking questions as the story went on.

"That's exactly what I would have done. Maybe you should run a cytochrome P450 test." Ben agreed. That was his next step. "And, uh, Doctor Bailey is very intense about her patients, it probably wasn't anything personal."

"Nothing personal?" Ben blew air out of his nose. "She came at my job, my paycheck, my character and my damn parking space—I guess that wasn't personal."

"Fine. You're right. She's mean."

"Not totally mean," Ben said, defensively.

"Oh! You like her," Knox said. He wasn't asking a question. Ben fidgeted with his phone. "You do. You enjoy her, uh, warm spirit and her silhouette."

"Yeah right, more like lukewarm." The older man laughed again. "I'm going to run those tests; I'll see you around."