The Seventh Sense is Love

Worried About Christmas Dinner

Later that same evening Meredith and Derek are having dinner together in the hospital cafeteria.

"Mer, are you having a bad day?"

"What? Oh, no Derek, I'm not having a bad day. I'm just a little distracted."

"Anything you need to talk about?" he asks, reaching for her hand.

She reaches out and laces their fingers together. She gives a little laugh and states, "Cristina said I should talk to you about it."

"Really?" he asks, trying to sound neutral as a little knot forms in his gut.

"Yes," she mumbles and pushes the remaining food on her plate around with her fork.

"It can't be that bad," Derek prods.

"Yes it can," she hedges. "If I disappoint you it'll be bad," she retorts, sounding sad.

"All right, you're making me nervous. You have to tell me what's going on."

"I'm sorry," Meredith stutters and squeezes his hand tightly in hers. "I'm just not a very good cook. I mean, I'm not the world's worst cook. I don't think so anyway, but I'm not a great cook. And I've never cooked a turkey. I just don't want to make everyone sick and ruin Christmas."

She finishes her mini-tirade and sneaks a glance at Derek for his reaction. To her astonishment he is grinning. And looking very much like he wants to laugh out loud.

"Why are you happy? Did you hear what I just said? How are we supposed to have a family Christmas dinner when I can't even cook the main dish?"

"Come here," he says and tugs her into his lap.

"Derek," she protests, "we're at work. In the cafeteria!"

"I don't care," he says and finally laughs. He then gives her a very loud, lip-smacking kiss. "You are so fucking adorable. How did I get so lucky?"

Meredith wiggles free and sits back in her chair then grumbles, "You won't be feeling so lucky on Christmas morning. When you wake up vomiting from salmonella poisoning."

Derek laughs again and reaches for her hand. She swats it away and says, "Seriously Derek, this isn't funny."

"It really is, Mer."

"It's not," she insists. "What are we going to do?"

"Have the dinner catered," he answers, sounding serious.

"Be serious," she groans.

"I'm quite serious. Like you, I have no freakin' idea how to cook a turkey. Plus, I don't think it'd be quite safe for me to do. And somehow fish, steak or pasta don't seem like the right things to serve. So, I made some calls and we're having it catered."

"Can we do that?" she asks, starting to sound a little relieved. "Is it tacky? We invited people over for dinner. Shouldn't we cook for them?"

"Not in this scenario," he answers with a shake of his head. "Like you said, no food poisoning on Christmas morning."

She jumps up and grabs his face in her hands then proceeds to give him a very enthusiastic kiss. "I love you and I'm the one who's lucky."

"Meredith," he teases, "we're at work."

"I don't care," she answers and kisses him again.