Mr. Perfectly Fine

Brunch, Bad Jokes, & A Peculiar Diagnoses

1:30PM, Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital- Second Floor

By the time you'd snapped off your gloves and poked your head out of the lab, the hospital only seemed busier than the way you left it. Though, you supposed, you should've known better. In one hallway, nurses bustled around with patients of every sort: amputees, post-ops, children, the psychologically ill- the list could go on. More independent individuals had the freedom to walk around the section although they remained bridled to their IVs, stuck making sure that the delicate tubing didn't get tangled or snagged on a stray door handle. Passing by one room in particular, you glimpsed at a patient tossing their medication back before washing it down with ginger ale and a chunk of their sandwich.

You crinkled your nose- medicine and ginger ale did not seem like a pleasant combination, nor did the addition of stale-looking bread.

Rounding the corner, you were greeted by a trio of elevators and-

"Dr. Cuddy?"

Dr. Cuddy was beautiful, firstly (you felt as though this was important to mention). With sharp eyes and dark, wavy hair that smoothed over her shoulders, you would argue anyone who thought otherwise.

She turned her head and smiled. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon." You replied. "How are things?"

Cuddy smirked and took a sip from her thermos, undoubtedly filled with french roast. "Interesting, that's for sure. How are the labs going?"

"It's been going in circles, to be honest with you. Really, really fast circles."

You watched the gears in Cuddy's head turn as she tried to comprehend your god-awful humor. Eventually it hit, and you could only relish the way she looked at you, as if you'd made something explode or spilled milk on a laptop.

"No. No, absolutely not," she said, trying not to grin while you could only laugh beside her. "Do not make me implement a 'No Dad Joke' rule in this week's memo. Christ.." She chuckled, taking another drink from her thermos. "Getting lunch, then?"

"That's the plan," you breathed, trying to control any residual cackles. "Hopefully they have something good."

Ding!

"Have fun with that," said Cuddy, walking into the 'up' elevator.

Before you could reply, she winked, and the doors closed shut with a gentle thump.

Well, that was encouraging.

When your elevator arrived- which was mere seconds after Cuddy's -your mind had already started to drift towards what you would get for lunch. Veggie burger? Chinese? Hospital food wasn't exactly what you would call 'proper' dining- it was barely the definition of dining anyways. Nine times out of ten, it was overly salted, generic, never quite failed to make your toes curl as you felt the unmistakable twinge of hypertension rush through your veins.

Ding! "First floor."

Walking out into the food court, you slowly knit your eyebrows together. Instead of the typical cardboard-like smell of overcooked green beans mixed with body odor and bagels, the cafeteria leeched a sweet, cinnamon-spicy aroma that you could only describe as heavenly.

"Since when does it ever smell good in here?" you muttered under your breath.

Wandering out into the area, you were glad that at least some things hadn't changed. Per usual, the WiFi dads had clustered amongst themselves, sharing their phones amongst one another and raving about the newest ESPN updates as their kids smeared ketchup on their faces. The ER moms were a bit more scattered around, though you found them easier to spot as their children often clutched to them like koalas.