Bering and Wells Meet-Cute 2!
Hello @lady-adventuress! Here is the product of your prompt for a happy fun AU for the Bering and Wells Holiday Gift Exchange! Based on a real (platonic) conversation I had with a stranger after minor surgery.
(insert @ for the archive here, oh my god I don't know my own blog name)
The Melville Deli, snuggled against the CVS half a block from the hospital, ran a brisk business with the exhausted, disoriented shamblers in need of a non-medical meal. Salt, fat, and non-pureed meats were the specialties. Once a week at least, Greg the dishwasher was required to return a hospital wheelchair that had been rolled into the deli by an enthusiastic patron and abandoned after a hearty meal. Their signage was carefully placed so as to be visible to outpatient pedestrians traveling from the hospital doors to the parking garage, so no one need go to the trouble of moving their cars.
Thus was Steve Jinks pressganged into marionetting his delirious friend through the automatic doors and into the nearest booth.
“You’re lucky I’m hungry, too, HG, because I do not have to put up with this.”
“But you enjoy it so!” Helena bellowed, as if she were the lead in an impromptu lunch theater performance. The audience glanced up, then away. “And you have my deepest gratitude! And my credit card. Oh hello!”
She beamed at the server who’d arrived, her electric presence utterly uninsulated. The server, shocked, took their drink orders without even looking at Steve.
“Everyone’s being so kind to me today. Is it the weather? I do love this weather. We should go cycling! Grand day for--”
“I wouldn’t recommend that.”
Enter someone equally loud, stage left. Steve and Helena both turned, zeroing in on a curly-haired woman whose slack face was impressively stern, even from across the restaurant. Several patrons stared, variously shushed, kicked, or joined by their table companions.
“You’ve clearly had a procedure. You need to rest and allow the aneasthesia to fully leave your system. Riding a bike requires way more motor control than you’re capable of right now.”
Helena leaned forward, and it was unfair how well the numbed-out looseness worked in her favor.
“You don’t yet know what I’m capable of.”
The woman reared backward in offense, then continued tilting backward until her snickering companion tipped her gently upright again.
“I know about anaesthesia.”
“First-hand, I take it. How did your operation go?”
Steve watched most of the patrons return to their meals, several with a hand cupped around their eyes to block out the scene barraging them from either side.
“I followed all my pre-exam instructions perfectly. People act like a colonoscopy’s a big deal, but all you have to do is follow the instructions.”
The server delivered drinks, and Helena raised hers in a toast to these perfectly-followed instructions. Steve stood so he’d be ready to catch the cup before it spilled. The other woman’s companion wasn’t so quick, and a splash of water rushed down his sleeve while he corrected his friend’s grip.
“Your name is Mike?” Helena asked.
“Myka.”
“Myka! Lovely. I’m Helena, and this is Steve, my very good friend.”
“Pete,” Myka’s friend said, waving. Steve nodded, sinking back into his seat, but he refused to shout.
The server cleared their throat.
“Do you uh, know what you want to eat yet?”
Helena looked at the menu like it was an exciting math problem, then set it aside, calling out, “Perhaps my new friend will have a suggestion. She knows about anesthesia, let’s see what else she knows.”
Myka squinted, thinking, then growled, “You’re making fun of me.”
“Not remotely! I’m teasing.”
“You’re flirting,” Steve mumbled, to which Helena shouted, “Of course I am, do you see her?”
“What’s the difference?” Myka demanded.
“I’ll give you a few minutes,” the server said. Steve, head in hands, thanked them.
“Like me? You don’t know me.”
And then Helena stood up. She hung in the air a moment, arms out like a dancer whose performance hasn’t begun. Two diners instinctively moved their chairs away from her, and angled themselves slightly toward her to watch again.
She stood. And blinked. The dancer had forgotten her choreography, and perhaps what dance she was performing entirely. By the time Steve looked up to realize the crisis, Pete was already sailing across the floor, scooting between the tables and muttering the kinds of pleasantries favored by those who are polite for comedic effect. He bowed and swept his hand toward his and Myka’s table. Helena bowed back and proceeded, following the path Pete had already cleared.
Myka scooted into the corner of the booth as the two approached, clutching her coat to her like a loosely-clad virgin in a vampire flick.
Helena slid into the booth. Her approach toward Myka was stopped by her shoe catching on the leg of the table, a problem she didn’t bother to solve.
Steve trailed behind, carrying their water glasses.
“I don’t know about you, darling, but I am absolutely famished.”
Helena mirrored her, and they both nodded in sync for long moments, losing momentum as they went.
“Aaaaand she’s gone,” Pete observed, making room for Steve on his side of the booth.
Myka leaned forward to Helena’s sleeping face. She draped her coat over Helena’s lap, patting it in place.
“Rest is also good for you.”
