Musings on if the Berena kiss happened whilst Serena was massaging Bernie in the middle of their office because seriously what the hell that was SO GAY. (Also there's at least one typo in this which I lost when I forgot to save the correction, so if anyone spots it please do let me know!)
"Sit down. Let me take a look."
Bernie paused for a second, and searched Serena's expression for sincerity.
"Really?"
It was certainly predictable that a qualified and experienced doctor would want to examine any sort of injury, but this did not take into account the professional boundaries that had naturally manifested between the two as colleagues. In this office the extent of their physical contact merely comprised of when their fingers innocently brushed as Bernie passed Serena her morning coffee, and she uttered her routine thanks in return. It was the most insignificant touch, but Bernie always noticed whenever it happened.
Otherwise, they had become accustomed to the physical void that served as a space in order to separate their desks, and simultaneously their professional lives. The distance between them would only be filled by the sound of keys tapping rhythmically as Serena answered the considerable volume of emails she received on a daily basis, or the scratching of a biro on paper as Bernie filled in paperwork, or annotated reports. This room was dedicated to their work, and Bernie kept any deviation from this silent agreement securely locked inside her mind.
The truth was that Serena was the closest person to Bernie at the moment. She was the person that she looked to for advice whenever she was struggling with a patient, the person she confided in whenever she got a call from her lawyer regarding her difficult divorce, and the friend she clinked wine glasses with when they celebrated successful surgeries after work. These were all reasons why Serena was unquestionably dear to Bernie, who found this source of companionship invaluable to her wellbeing, but there was also an inexplicable longing for something more hidden deep within her. Her surprised question was a product of her being taken aback by the prospect of Serena breaking this established distance between them, and therefore the one boundary that kept these forbidden thoughts silent.
"Yes" replied Serena, in a tone of voice that made it clear to Bernie that she did not have a choice in the matter. It was the same voice she used for challenging patients who threatened to leave before receiving treatment, difficult board members who insisted on deviating from her professional ideals, and the one that prompted distracted doctors and nurses to immediately get back to work. It exuberated tenacity and self-confidence which made the receiver doubt that they had ever disagreed with her at all – and Bernie was quietly fond of it. Serena quickly pulled a chair into the centre of the office, and patted the seat impatiently in order to emphasise the futility of arguing.
"Well, that that … That would be nice" Bernie managed in response.
The thought of Serena's hands on her back left her feeling a little flustered, and the sudden nerves forced her pulse to quicken – she had had no time to prepare herself for this unexpected turn of events. The only response she had was to quickly take a second to close her eyes and mentally chide herself for allowing a stutter to escape and choosing an adjective as bland as "nice". At this rate her secret attraction was going to become common knowledge very quickly.
What heightened the significance of this situation was the fact that Bernie was well aware that Serena was not the type of person to offer assistance lightly – surely she was too busy paving the path which would lead her department to success to consider offering massages to aching colleagues? Bernie had realised how career-orientated Serena was in Albie's when she had, over a bottle of wine, described how she boldly fought to be appointed the CEO of Holby City Hospital – only to have the title snatched from her grasp by Guy Self and, later, Henrik Hanssen.
Bernie's eyes glazed over slightly as she allowed her mind to shift into a daydream. She had been listening in awe when a slightly tipsy Serena had leant close to Bernie's ear and whispered confidingly:
"You know he was going to call his department the Guy Self Centre."
Bernie had been taking a sip of wine at the same moment, and almost spat it out at the revelation. "Are you joking? At least he's honest" she had scoffed in amusement.
Serena had nodded slowly in response, her reaction obviously tainted by alcohol, but did not retract from her position which was unnecessarily close to Bernie, who was smiling widely at how her friend swayed slightly next to the now empty bottle. She had found the whole situation incredibly endearing until Serena leant forward a little more, and their lips were only a short distance from meeting. They had looked at each other in silence for a moment, and Bernie thought about how she wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them; to see what the wine tasted like from her colleague's lips. Serena's eyes flicked downwards and Bernie, if she did not know any better, could have sworn she was thinking the same. Bernie sat motionless with bated breath having neither the courage to move forward, nor the willpower to move away.
Then, Serena leisurely drew herself away and back to her original position. Bernie had blamed her actions, and her own thoughts, on the wine, and quickly looked down at her glass in order to allow her hair to fall and cover the pink blush that had suddenly stained her cheeks.
"Those men don't have a clue" said Serena quietly in the most exasperated tone. Bernie had laughed loudly at the unexpected words. Their moment of intimate silence was so easily forgotten in conversation, but she knew that she could never think of their relationship as strictly platonic ever again.
Bernie sat down in the chair. The ache of her back was considerably more comfortable than the butterflies in her stomach. An oblivious Serena reached out and pressed her palms firmly against Bernie's shoulders, and in turn she fought to keep her reaction to the contact neutral.
Serena's hands moved across the entire area of Bernie's back as she tried to identify the source of the pain. They were warm, slow and caring – she was obviously taking her time searching for tense regions, and massaging them until the pain dwindled and melted away. Bernie focused on the gentle rustle of her scrubs as Serena's palms moved over them at various paces, and the heat from her fingers which radiated through the fabric – she had to swallow down her emotions at such tender contact. Eventually, Serena's hands returned to Bernie's shoulders. She moved to brush some of her hair away from her face, and Bernie could not help but lean into the touch.
"Serena" she started to say, unable to contain the affection she felt for her colleague in such an intimate moment. She regretted letting the word escape the second it slipped from her lips. Serena's hands stopped brushing through her hair, but they did not draw away. Bernie was too mortified to turn around and gauge her reaction properly. "Sorry" she mumbled instead – the apology was offering to take back the fantasy she had carelessly revealed, to fix the precious closeness between them if it had been broken, to Serena that she could forget that her name was ever said with such tenderness.
"What for?" answered Serena – perhaps she had not heard the word that was spoken so softly in Bernie's blissful relaxation, or she was rightfully choosing to ignore it completely. Whatever the reason, Bernie had become quite overwhelmed. Serena's face was incredibly close to her shoulder, and the breath when she spoke served to send a pleasant shiver down the length of her spine.
Bernie began to turn around. It was time to tell Serena to stop. She felt vulnerable with the confession of her attraction balanced so precariously on the tip of her tongue, and she felt embarrassed that the start of that very confession had made itself known in the breathy announcement of Serena's name. She wanted nothing more than to escape this situation, to wash it away with a glass of whiskey, and to wait for morning to come so it could be forgotten with the new sunrise.
As she turned she found herself face-to-face with Serena. Their lips were even closer to touching now, but still neither of them drew away. The moment was filled with impossible tension, an incredible amount of uncertainty and weeks of unspoken desire. Serena's eyes were cast downwards and fixed upon Bernie's lips, with her own parted ever so slightly. It was unimaginable that Bernie would turn away from such a beautiful sight. The question seemed to loom above them – how would this moment be broken?
Bernie's mind frantically recalled the weeks they had worked together – perhaps she had become so intent on blocking the thoughts that she was attracted to Serena that she had ignored all the signs that Serena was, in turn, attracted to her. The way she securely grabbed Bernie's arm to guide her to a new patient, or let her hand linger across the small of her back when they were discussing test results. The routine high five after successful surgery, or the gentle smoothing of her shoulder when Bernie was having a bad day – it was possible that she had become so accustomed to this comforting touches she had failed to recognise them as romantic in any way.
And, now, Serena was mere inches away from her face with her hands firmly on Bernie's shoulders – a confident and sturdy touch that Bernie trusted, because this was the woman she depended on more than anyone else. The feeling was so natural that she had barely realised how completely she had fallen for Serena until this moment. And, if there was any doubt left with all this evidence on mutual feelings, it was completely abolished as both women moved forward in unison in order to close the space between them.
It seemed that each startled the other with their boldness as they stopped just before their lips met. Bernie could feel Serena's breath tickling on her lips, smell the perfume that always reminded her of no one else and, finally, feel Serena's hands shift to grasp her face as she gently pulled her into a kiss.
It was the most tender first kiss. Under the golden glow of the lamps, which they had purchased together in an attempt to create a calmer office ambience for the night shift, everything seemed completely calm and quiet. It felt as though time had stopped for a moment in order to admire how their relationship had transcended from colleagues into something much more beautiful, and infinitely more meaningful. Serena's hands moved to grasp Bernie's hair as she explored her lips with her own, and Bernie reached to hold her wrists in order to feel as close to her as physically possible. There was no rushing, secrecy or expectation – there was only them, and the realisation of what they craved. It was the sweetest kiss that made Bernie's heart ache for more the second they pulled away.
"I don't think this is what Hanssen assumed when we decided to work together" Bernie said softly, breaking the magical silence that had enveloped the room.
"I really couldn't care less about what Hanssen thinks" Serena shot back. Bernie smiled in response. It seemed that their relationship was going to bloom beyond the label of colleagues.
Reviews / Comments / Requests are welcome and, indeed, encouraged! This is my first piece of Berena so I hope it was enjoyable at least. Ok fangirl out. xoxo