Tequila & Birdcages

Defiance |m.r|

As I close the door on the last patient for my list of rounds I sigh. I love my job, in fact I'm very lucky to work in such a nice place as St. Lucia Hospital. I often find myself feeling such strong empathy for the patients that it makes it hard to perform my duties. Some of the treatments are just so cruel and I don't understand the purpose of them.

It seems though, that ever since a certain redhead showed up, things have been changing around here. I'll admit, my first encounter with the strict nurse was not a pleasant one. I think we got off on the wrong foot but she seems to take first impressions very seriously. I suppose I should've known that given the way she dresses for her interview.

She takes herself very seriously whereas I don't think I could do so if my life depended on it. I figured she'd loosen up over time, everyone is nervous at first. Yet it doesn't seem to be happening and I've realized I'll just have to adapt. She may not have the titled of head nurse—yet—but she seems to have the authority of the position.

Even Betsy seems to revere her and Nurse Bucket doesn't bow down to many. I enter the break room to grab a glass of water when I catch the infamous woman sat at a table in the corner. She doesn't acknowledge my presence but I see the way she tenses. I grab my water as I think of what I can possibly say to her.

I've learned over time not to show weakness in front of Ratched. She's a pillar of strength that's not too concerned with emotions—or so it seems. "Good afternoon" I go with and she just stares at me blankly before going back to her food. "You're just never going to speak to me again?" I joke and she doesn't seem amused with my humor.

Yesterday there was a little mishap and a patient had escaped. In reality I had let him out, Peter is a quiet kid and just wanted some sunlight. Not many people engage with him so I try my best to be sweet. After he'd worked the courage up to come talk to me, let alone ask for something, how could I deny him?

Mildred didn't like that and, after I told her the truth of the situation, she was furious. I'd tried to diffuse it but she didn't seem interested in calming down. It was as if she had been looking for a reason to dislike me and I'd just handed her the golden ticket. She mumbles something under her breath and I set my glass in the sink, moving closer to her.

"What was that?" I tease, "you know, I really detest you, y/n" she groans. "Ok" I shrug nonchalantly, she said it as if it was breaking news. "That's it? Just 'ok'?" she counters and I see a bit of emotion flash in her eyes. I've never seen her look at me with anything but disgust or annoyance. So of course I noticed the change in her eyes when she questioned my response.

"Well, what did you expect? That we cuddle?" I taunt and her lips immediately shift to form a scowl. "Fuck you" she spats and for a second I'm caught off guard. She may be a bit rough around the edges but I never expected her to use such vulgar language. Like I said, she takes herself very seriously and part of me admires her for it.

Mildred Ratched is a classy woman and so to hear her say that, shocks me. Yet it sets a light off in my head, my demeanor is affecting her somehow. I think somewhere, deep down, she feels something other than irritation towards me. "When?" I joke, her eyebrows shooting up as far as they can in response. "You know I didn't mean it literally" she argues and I shrug, leaning down with my hands on the table.

I see her eyes dart to the very small amount of cleavage revealed by my uniform. I accidentally got them all a size too small so they've always fit snug. I never bothered exchanging them because I like how they fit, the flaps on the collar don't get in my way like everyone else's. Well, everyone except for Mildred's, of course.

"Your eyes say something different, Mildred" I point out and her eyes are glued to mine. I never use her name when addressing her, at least not out loud. I can tell she has some feelings about that, though I'm not quite sure what they are. Despite how harsh she may seem, I know she had a good heart.

She doesn't agree with what they're doing here either and it shows in the way she bends policies and rules. I've noticed in particular that she has a soft spot for those diagnosed with lesbianism and/or hysteria. She seems to act even more ruthless towards them but it's all a front, I can see right through her. I take a seat next to her and she scoots away from me just an inch.

I scoot even closer and this time she doesn't move but she doesn't look at me either. "I think you secretly like me, Mildred" I mumble and she takes a deep breath. "Now's your chance to deny it... to prove me wrong" I speak up and she remains silent, frozen to the spot. I examine her side profile, seeing her nose just barely twitch.

"Is this making you uncomfortable?" I ask sincerely, prepared to give her space but she just lightly shakes her head. "Look at me" I say and it takes her a second but she turns to face me. "You're really beautiful, you know that? I love your hair" I comment and see a light blush cross her cheeks. "Thank you" she whispers, "I think that's the first nice thing you've said to me" I reply lightheartedly and she cracks a smile.

"I think you're beautiful too" she utters softly, glancing back to her food as her blush spreads. A warm feeling settles in my chest at her confession. Finally some sense of confirmation that she at least doesn't hate my guts. "Thank you" I respond and she nods, her gaze traveling back to my own. "So... you don't hate me. That's a relief" I chuckle and she rolls her eyes playfully.

"I may even like you... just a little" she mutters, her tone quite and cautious. "Lucky me then. I quite adore you as well... just a little" I tease and she bites her lip softly as she smiles. A silence falls between us, the tension is finally gone and replaced by a much calmer atmosphere. "So..." she prompts, "so..." I echo trying to make her take initiative.

"I'm not sure" she admits, "would you like to get dinner with me?" I propose. She turns to face me, attempting to search my eyes for falsity. "Ok..." she whispers, "that's it? Just 'ok'?" I mock and she chuckles softly. I've never really heard her laugh and I find myself smiling goofily. I'm not sure what you're doing to me Mildred Ratched, but I'm excited to find out.