Sorry for the wait everyone!
Okay, so I decided to change one thing about earlier chapters. Natasha is undercover, so instead of refusing to tell Claire about her first name, she tells Claire her undercover name, which is Natasha Stratford.
There were many things Claire liked about her job, but dull mandatory meetings were not one of them.
As head of general surgery, Serena sat their department down for half an hour every other Tuesday to drone about new developments, regulations, and patient updates. It was made clear that mandatory meant mandatory, so no other excuse rather than the possibility of death could be used to get out of it. Pen in hand, leaning back in her swivel chair, Claire did her best imitation of someone who was paying the utmost attention as she tamped down the urge to close her eyes and take a nice long nap.
Her fellow coworkers seemed to share the sentiment. Like her, many had coffees in hand, and nearly all of them were doing a shoddy job of pretending like they wanted to be there.
Feeling a yawn creeping up on her, Claire lifted the sheet of paper she'd been given to eye-level to hide it. She lowered it again and sipped from her overpriced coffee— her second of the day, and it wasn't even noon.
Serena's stern gaze flitted over her, a split-second's pause in her lecture as she froze, evidently forgetting to ignore her. Claire's spine reflexively straightened, a burst of adrenaline shooting through her body. She nodded at whatever was being said, forcing her features into her most alert and awake expression. Serena looked away, clearing her throat, launching back into a subpoint.
Claire slumped back in her seat, the energy draining out of her as soon as it had come. God. Had she really come close to sleeping with that woman?
Even if Claire hadn't been running on coffee and the few hours of sleep she'd gotten (what else was new), little of what Serena was saying would have made it into her long-term memory. There was something on her mind that was unequivocally more fun to think about than the functionality of the new hand sanitizer dispensers on the pediatrics floor.
That morning, Claire had woken up to an empty bed in a strange apartment and a cold blueberry muffin lying on the nightstand.
One note, written in Sharpie on a crumpled Starbucks receipt. Went to work. Text you later.
Brief and efficient. Very Natasha. Claire read it over six times in total, a stupid smile growing on her face, before it got too pathetic.
After texting a quick thanks to Natasha for the muffin, Claire dressed and went to work in a giddy daze. The smell of Natasha's perfume was still clinging to her hair, reminding her that last night hadn't been just a hallucination of her sleep-deprived mind.
"Dr. Benson, is something boring you?"
Claire blinked. "No, Dr. Blake." She tried to not let her annoyance show. Serena didn't usually let her personal life affect her work, but it was clear that Claire had been targeted on purpose. There were at least ten other bleary-eyed doctors that she could've chosen to pick on.
Luckily, a text came in from Natasha before the meeting ended, clearing her bad mood. Just a quick, impersonal how's work. Barely anything. It might as well have been from Tessa or Jake. Definitely not something Claire should be grinning over. But the fact that Natasha was texting her at all was something to be grinning over, so…
Under the desk, Claire tapped out a quick reply. Trying not to fall asleep. Morning meetings should be illegal.
Natasha: Stop texting me during your meeting, idiot
Claire: No
Claire: What ru doing
Natasha: paperwork
Natasha: so you promised me a date right
Claire: no, you promised me a date
Natasha: I don't recall using those exact words
Natasha: but how does tonight after your shift sound
Claire: Will I have time to change?
Natasha: No, come in your bloodstained scrubs. It'll be so romantic
Claire: what should i wear then
Natasha: nothing preferably
Claire sent the rolling-eye emoji and waited for a serious reply.
Natasha: just dress casual
Claire: shit gtg my boss is glaring at me
Claire shot an innocent smile at Serena, who was giving her a suspicious look. She tucked her phone in her pocket, resolving to be more professional for the rest of the meeting.
Claire's giddy excitement didn't last until lunchtime.
"Reschedule?" Lana Chang repeated.
Today it was only her and Alex in the room, besides Claire. Claire had wanted to deliver the news personally, aware that having an audience wouldn't do much to help the situation.
"Unfortunately, yes," Claire said grimly. "Due to the change in Alex's vitals, the risks of surgery have drastically increased. We'll be putting him on some new medications, but we need to wait for his condition to improve. It'll be a couple of days, or even weeks, before we can get him into the operating room."
Lana was clenching her hands so hard that the knuckles were turning white. Claire's heart went out to her. Sitting there with rumpled clothes and dark circles under her eyes, Lana looked utterly exhausted. She looked over to her son, fast asleep in the hospital bed beside her. "I just want this to be over."
"We all do," Claire said. "I know this is a lot to ask, but try to take it easy. Go home, get some sleep. We'll keep a close eye on Alex."
Lana shook her head vigorously. "I can't. I have to stay with him."
"I understand. Just make sure you take care of yourself as well." Claire went to stand up, but Lana's hand reached out to grasp Claire's.
To Claire's alarm, her eyes had filled with tears. "Just promise me," she said desperately, her voice trembling. "Please promise me you'll save him."
Those words filled Claire with a sense of dread. Doctors didn't promise things. It was dangerous, unrealistic, and brought sorrow more often than not.
"I will do everything I can," Claire said, squeezing Lana's hand, well-aware of how much of a half-promise it was. Lana sniffed and nodded, leaning back to dab at her eyes. Claire had known her for a long time; Lana wasn't a stupid woman. She knew the risks of the surgery, and she knew the underlying wariness in Claire's tone.
Still, she smiled tightly and said, "Thank you, Dr. Benson."
With Lana's expression haunting her, Claire spent the rest of the day meeting patients, doing research about Alex Chang's case in between. She tasked her residents with doing the same, making sure there was an equal distribution of work between Alex's case and other patients. There were only a few complications with his condition, but she knew that in his case, they needed to be prepared for the smallest of changes.
Her shift ended near the afternoon that day, but Claire stayed at the desk, tapping at her computer and reading studies.
"Knock, knock."
The words were accompanied by a redundant knock and the creak of the door opening. Jake's face, far too awake for this time of night, peered at her through the crack.
Claire glanced up from where she was researching Alex's case. "What's the point of vocalizing 'knock, knock' if you're going to knock anyway?"
Jake bounded into the room, two coffees in hand. "Someone's grumpy this evening. Latte?"
"I shouldn't, it's late," Claire said while taking one. "Is there a reason you look so chipper for the night shift?"
"Just got in. Big surgery today."
Claire suddenly remembered. "Oh, the meningioma?"
"Yep. Is there a reason why you look like you're in your zombie state?"
Claire rubbed her eyes. "Just doing research on the Alex Chang case."
"You should go home, get some sleep. Follow the advice you give to your patients."
"You're one to talk," she said, but she shut down the computer anyway.
She was one block down the hospital when she felt a droplet of rainwater on her head. Ten seconds later, it was pouring. Gotta love Mother Nature and her unpredictable mood swings.
It took two blocks of walking in the pouring rain for Claire to duck under the overhang of a closed bakery. Why hadn't she thought of bringing an umbrella? She should really start checking the weather before walking to the hospital. She wrung out the sleeves of her coat, thinking of her next course of action.
Going back to the hospital and waiting for Tessa's shift to end? But her shift ran late today. The idea of sitting in the waiting room in Claire's drenched clothes wasn't appealing.
Maybe she could hail a taxi. But the thought of waiting around for one as well as paying the fare put her off immediately, just wanting to get home as soon as possible.
With this in mind, Claire steeled herself for the walk home. She set a brisk pace, but she wasn't even halfway to her apartment before her coat was completely drenched, the rain soaking through. She tucked her bag close to her chest, hoping that the papers inside wouldn't get wet.
Claire passed into a street that wasn't as well lit as the others. Her pace increased until she was just a few steps away from a jog. She rummaged through her bag until her numb fingers met the canister of pepper spray she'd bought on Amazon. The mugging that happened a few months ago had rattled her more than she'd like to admit.
Claire was just beginning to rethink hailing a taxi when three loud honks, quick in succession, blared right behind her, making her jump. What the hell? She whirled around, ready to give the driver a piece of her mind, when the Corvette shot forward and immediately slowed, in line with Claire.
The window rolled down ominously. The driver, on the other side of the car, was shouting at her, words unintelligible through the downpour. Claire started walking faster, thinking of making a run for it before one word in the unintelligible jumble stood out to her.
"Claire!"
She froze and turned back. The rain was making it impossible to get a good look. Claire got close enough to peer at the driver's face. She caught a flash of red hair, and her heart did a weird gymnastics move in her chest. "Natasha?" she called out uncertainly.
"What the hell are you doing?" Natasha yelled. It was her.
"Uh… walking?" They were closer now, but Claire was still half-shouting.
"In the rain?"
"I don't have a ride!"
The taxi behind Natasha honked loudly. Natasha ignored them. "Get in the car!"
Claire declined on reflex. "Oh, that's okay—"
Natasha gestured impatiently. "It's thirty degrees out and raining! Get your ass in the car!"
When a pretty girl tells you to get in her fancy sports car, especially when you're at risk of catching pneumonia in the cold, you don't refuse. Bunching her coat around her shoulders, Claire hurried to the passenger seat. An inciting rush of warm air when she shut the door behind her.
Claire shivered as she awkwardly maneuvered her sopping coat from her shoulders to her lap.
"You can throw that in the back," Natasha said as she cranked up the heat a couple notches.
The taxi behind them was getting impatient. Three loud honks, followed by angry shouting in Italian.
Natasha threw a narrowed look over her shoulder to the taxi driver. "Asshole," she muttered. "You have your seatbelt on?" Barely waiting for Claire's confirmation, she floored the accelerator and the car came alive with a roar, pitching forward into the road.
Claire had never been much of a car fanatic, but even she could tell how nice of a car this was— shiny black exterior, gorgeous leather seats, sleek red console. She felt uncomfortably out of place in her muddy Vans and dripping clothes. "Sorry if I'm ruining your seats."
"Don't worry about it," Natasha said, gaze fixed on the road. "And that's another Coke, Benson."
Claire groaned. "We're still doing that?"
"Unless you're ready to admit that you apologize an embarrassing amount."
"I'm just trying not to be a dick. This is a really nice car." Claire ran her hands along the shiny buttons.
"Careful with that," Natasha said, smirking when Claire jolted, hand whipping away from the buttons. "Some of them shoot lasers."
"Ha-ha," Claire said, but didn't touch the buttons again.
"Seriously, don't worry about the car. I know a good dry cleaning guy."
Using one hand to turn the wheel and the other to fiddle with the radio, Natasha flicked through stations until she landed on one that wasn't blaring top 40 pop music.
Claire noticed that she didn't turn the volume up loud enough to sing along to. "Not a fan of mainstream music, huh?"
"Nope." With absolutely no transition in between, Natasha said, "We should talk about self-preservation skills, and your lack of them. What possessed you to walk home alone in the dark when it's pouring outside?"
She said it so flippantly, but there was an undercurrent of disapproval running through the words.
Claire, still blinking from the abrupt change of topic, said, "Didn't feel like waiting for a taxi."
"Isn't waiting better than getting mugged?"
"I have a can of pepper spray in my bag," Claire said defensively. Natasha looked unimpressed, so she felt the need to add, "And I watched a Youtube video on how to poke a man's eyes out."
"Yes, because a mugger's going to sit there patiently while you figure out how to insert your dainty little fingers into their eye sockets."
"Don't call my fingers dainty. These fingers save lives."
"I feel like we're focusing on the wrong details here," Natasha said, clearly not letting up.
"Nat, it's fine," Claire said, but a warmth bloomed in her chest at the thought that Natasha cared enough for her to complain about the safety of her transportation habits. "It saves money. And I can't drive, so the only options are walking or public transportation. And I don't know if you've ever taken the subway, but—"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Natasha asked with a small frown.
"Nothing, nothing," Claire backtracked. "You just seem very… well-off."
"Between the two of us, which one is a doctor with a six-figure salary?"
"I think you mean the fresh-out-of-residency doctor with crippling amounts of student debt." Claire shook her head. "But it was dumb of me to assume."
Natasha chuckled, then asked, "Why can't you drive?"
"I grew up in New York. Never needed to."
"Maybe you should consider learning."
Claire shrugged, even though the idea of driving made her feel uneasy. The amount of surgeries she'd done on crash victims… "Maybe."
Natasha, seeming to sense her shift in mood, changed the subject. "You didn't answer my texts. I was going to pick you up at the hospital."
Claire winced, suddenly remembering their plans for a date that morning. This is why I don't do relationships, she was reminded. Forgotten date nights, forgotten anniversaries— what was the difference? It wouldn't be long until Natasha grew tired of her negligence, and abandoned her like all the others.
Whoa there, Negative Nancy. Hearing her own pessimism, she forced herself to back up a few steps. Natasha didn't look angry, and Claire really needed to work on spiraling to negative conclusions before they even happened.
"Sorry," Claire said, hating the taste of old familiarity the apology had on her tongue, "I had my phone turned on Do Not Disturb. To be honest, it's just been a shit day. I have a patient— this sweet kid, Alex— with spinal osteomyelitis. It's this vertebral infection that…" Claire stopped herself short, remembering that Natasha probably wasn't interested in hearing doctor jargon.
"What, you don't think I can handle big words?" Natasha said, her expression too blank to be joking.
"Wha— no," Claire sputtered. "I just—"
Natasha looked unamused for a couple seconds before her blank mask broke. "No, you're right. I have no idea what that means."
"Jerk," Claire said with no bite. "Anyway, there were complications with his chart, so his surgery got delayed. Really sucks. His family is really counting on this surgery, and I just don't want to..." She sighed. She was making no sense.
"So I take it you're not up for a date tonight?"
"No, I am," Claire insisted. "It'd be a good distraction, actually. I just need to get out of these clothes."
Natasha smirked. "I'm not stopping you."
"Are you always dirty-minded?"
"Only when I'm given the opportunity to be," Natasha said. "But I do have some clothes in the back."
"Aren't we going back to the apartment?" Claire glanced out the window, trying to make out the landscape through the blurriness of rain. She realized that they'd been driving for far longer than it normally took to get to the apartment.
"We're taking a little detour."
Claire frowned. "You know those words make you sound like a serial killer who lures young women out to kill in dark parking lots, right?"
Natasha smiled like it was a compliment. "I'd tell you that I'm not a serial killer, but that'd be exactly what a serial killer would say, wouldn't it?"
"Thank you. Super reassuring. I feel very safe right now."
Natasha slowed to a stop at the red light. With the red light illuminating her features, she turned and gave her a smile so creepy that Claire physically shuddered. The spell broke when she started laughing at the look on Claire's face.
Claire looked away, grimacing. "That was too good to be fake. Are you actually going to kill me?"
"Not tonight." Natasha turned into a brightly-lit area. "It's for our date, and I think you'll love it."
"A gas station?" Claire said, looking at the flickering neon sign. "This is your great, big 'I think you'll love it' date destination?"
The rain had ceased for the moment, so she was standing outside the 7-Eleven, having changed into the clothes that Natasha had in the trunk. (During which Claire made a comment about "trying not to think what else might be in your trunk, after that serial killer conversation.") Wearing the heavy winter coat enveloped her in Natasha's perfume, even stronger than the traces of it still in her hair.
"I never said it was that big," Natasha said, stepping out from the car to stand beside her. "Plus, you still owe me a soda."
"Well," Claire said. "I've never had someone take me to a gas station on a first date."
"It's romantic, right?"
"No, you're just really bad at this."
"Don't be a priss, let's go." With that, Natasha pulled on her hand— Claire hadn't even realized she'd taken it— and started leading her towards the store. Claire tried to not let her limbs jerk awkwardly at the electric thrill that ran through her. "You're getting me a Slurpee."
"You're going to make me pay?" Claire said. "This was your idea!"
"You're the one who asked me out."
"Only after you—"
Before they reached the doors, Natasha suddenly stopped and yanked Claire towards her. Claire stumbled forward, right into Natasha's lips. The kiss shocked her silent, almost forgetting to respond. After a moment, she moved into it, angling her face for better access.
Quicker than Claire would've liked, Natasha pulled back, that smirk back in place. Without another word, she turned and strode into the 7-Eleven, leaving Claire gaping after her.
"That's not fair," Claire muttered when she regained her senses. "That is not fair."
Ahh I love writing their dialogue. There's way more of Natasha and Claire in this chapter. Tell me your thoughts on this chapter! It was going to be longer but I cut it off because you guys deserve an update. Next chapter will continue their date.
Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! I'm a little worse at responding to reviews now, but just know I appreciate all of you :)
also i've decided to change my name to av0cadotoast. i don't know why, don't ask, just felt like it was time for a change