It's been awhile...and it's about two days late. Oh how I have missed writing this pairing.
Disclaimer: don't own ER
She's sitting on a stool in the middle of the kitchen looking entirely pathetic. Her eyes are red, her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and her knuckles are white from her death grip on the edge of her seat. Ray knocks on the door frame. "Am I allowed to come in?"
"Oh go away," she mumbles. There's no force behind it so he enters.
"It's not that bad," he lies. Really, it's terrible. There's a half frozen turkey sitting on the counter, green beans are half mixed with the rest of the casserole ingredients, and a pumpkin pie can is open with the contents still inside. Not to mention half a dozen other started attempts.
"I said that I would help you."
"I don't need your help," she insists. "I've got it all under control."
"I can see that."
"Just leave me be," she whines. "I'm just taking a break." Her shoulders slump. "I don't understand. I can slice someone open and fix them up and I can't properly defrost a turkey. Or read directions, apparently."
He tries not to laugh. "Neela, you don't have to do this all by yourself. I can help."
"But you can't!" she can be very emphatic. "It's our first Thanksgiving as a couple and your Mum is coming and it has to be perfect or else she'll think that I can't handle it. If I can't handle dinner, how am I supposed to handle her son?"
Ray raises his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, handle me?"
"That's not what I meant. I just meant...how can I measure up."
"To what? Neela, you're a surgeon. You're smart. You're beautiful. Who cares if you can't cook a turkey or make green bean casserole?"
She sniffs. "I hate this holiday of yours."
This time he laughs as he reaches out to rub her shoulders. She leans her head back into him and he kisses her hair. "How about this," wraps his arms around her. "You crack open a bottle of wine-"
"Ray, no. This idea already sounds terrible."
"Okay, fine. Crack open a bottle of sparkling cider and we work on this together."
Her knuckles relax. "Fine."
By the time they're finished they've gone through a bottle of Merlot and haven't stopped laughing since Neela had awkwardly stuffed her first turkey. The table's finally set and they're all seated and Ray's mother insists they say grace. Neela raises her glass. "I just want to say," she turns towards Ray, "That I finally think I understand what this day is all about. I'm thankful for this wonderful man who can make even the most horrifying of tasks into something fun."