He wasn't one to fuss over something so trivial; at least, that's what he liked to think.
His deep brown eyes flew across the words on the page in front of him, but the words only lingered in his mind for a moment before completely fading into the blackness that was a cluster of thoughts.
He ran his fingers through his brown hair, frustrated, as his hand came to rest on the back of his neck. He exhaled sharply, reading over the same sentence he had started a moment before, only to be interrupted again by the same cluster of thoughts that had rudely stopped him before. The void kept nibbling at his attention, causing him to lose focus again.
It was the third time he had tried to understand the sentence on the white page in front of him.
He hated paperwork. He hated it with a blind fury that could only be understood by him in his own jumble of thoughts that sporadically bounced around in his skull. He quickly picked up the page and put it back on top of the monstrous stack next to him, promising he'd get back to it later.
He knew he probably wouldn't, and he would get scolded for that.
Just as he had angrily forced the page back onto the pile, sending it from a neat, organized stack to one with papers sticking out in every which direction, he heard the familiar sound of the doorknob clicking and the hinges of the door squeaking ever so slightly, alerting him to someone moving quickly into his office.
He knew who it was just by the way they walked, with such an authority and quickness that was so professional, it was almost criminal. The soft click of heels on the floor also alerted him of the identity of the stranger now making their way to his desk, the atmosphere of the room going from frustration to urgency in the split second it took this entity to rush into the room.
"Doctor Stiles." The woman's voice scolded, a new pile of folders and papers being slammed down right next to his already messy pile he had just began to neglect.
"Are you really slacking off, again? If you keep neglecting your paperwork, I'm sure someone other than me is going to start being angry with you."
Her professional voice cut into the atmosphere of the room, causing the Doctor to frown deeply. He massaged his temples before adjusting his glasses, pushing them further up on his nose. He slowly lifted his head to look at his assistant, a disapproving glare on her face as she looked down at him, her palms on the front of his desk.
"Angie…" he began, exhaling again, "I just stopped for a moment to clear my head. You don't always-"
"Look, I really don't have time for your excuses right now, Dr. Stiles." She frowned, crossing her arms. "Did you forget you have an operation in ten minutes, Doctor?" She hissed the emphasis of the word Doctor as if she wished it didn't have to be spoken at all.
Derek stood up quickly, his brows furrowed. "No, Angie, I didn't." He spat, walking around his desk quickly. "I'm not a child, and I wish you would stop treating me as such." He slammed the door behind him after he walked out, leaving the Nurse glaring at the door. She huffed, walking towards the door to prepare herself as well.
Angie wasn't used to the Doctor being this, how could she put this, irritated in general. His happy, carefree demeanor seemed to be up in the air this morning, leaving his thoughts to plague at him. She wasn't sure what was causing him to act this way, but it wasn't doing much to help her mood, either. She quickly left the room and walked down the hallway the Doctor had walked down moments before, to go get ready for their next surgery.
Her feelings for the Doctor were what kept her jaded. She wouldn't show it, and she overcompensated hiding her feelings, making her always scold him and be snippy with him.
She now wondered, as she stalked down the hallway after their most recent operation, if this is what had sent him into his stage of self-reflection. She asked herself if her acting so cold to the Doctor is what had caused him to be so angry and irritated with every little incident that didn't seem to go his way this morning.
She felt as if she should go apologize to him, but she couldn't even begin to think of what to say. How was she supposed to explain her behavior from day one?
At first, her behavior was just her professionalism taking control of her. Being around someone as carefree as Dr. Stiles irked her, causing her almost OCD like behavior to strive for everything excellent to be even more potent than it usually was.
As her and the Doctor got closer, and he started to show that he was indeed up to the task of having the lives of thousands of people in his hands, she began to trust him more. But she also began do develop feelings for the man that she worked with every day, sometimes into the late hours of the night.
This sent her into a self-preservation mode, her personality becoming cold and unwelcoming to the Doctor. Of course, this wasn't anything new to him, it was just her professionalism again.
Or so he thought.
Of course, she couldn't explain to him that the reason she was scolding him so much was because of how she felt for him. That would have been ridiculous, and of course, unprofessional. She wanted to apologize, from the bottom of her heart she knew she wanted to apologize, but what was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to march into their office and tell him that she loved him?
That wouldn't have made any sense in the least.
So, she decided she would stop over thinking and go to their office, and apologize by just saying what came to her mind. Of course, she would watch what she was saying, so as not to let anything slip, but she wasn't going to spend any more time thinking about what could possibly be said to the brown haired master surgeon that she had worked beside for the past three years.
Angie hesitated at the door, pushing down on the handle of the door much more softly than she had before, almost shyly. She opened the door carefully, walking in and shutting the door behind her equally as quiet. She turned around to the room, expecting to see the Doctor sitting in his desk, slacking on his paperwork again.
That wasn't exactly what her eyes fell on.
The Doctor was sitting on the edge of his desk, facing the door, looking down at the tiles below his feet. He didn't even look up to her as she entered his office. He looked defeated, or like he was lost deep in his thoughts, not really realizing any of the events that were happening around him, or even aware of the time passing at all.
The usually confident, but now timid, Nurse clasped her hands in front of her.
"D… Doctor Stiles?" She questioned meekly, waiting to see if he was in the mood to even acknowledge her right now.
"Angie." He began, looking up at her. He pushed himself up off of the desk, running his fingers through his hair. "I need to apologize."
The Nurse looked at him, confusion washing over her face.
"What for?" She asked quickly, her hesitation fading as she let him take control of the conversation.
"My behavior this morning. Before the surgery. I shouldn't have snapped at you, and.." he sighed.
"There's really no need to apologize for that, Doctor… I was on my way in to apologize to you as well."
"Well, don't." He replied quickly, catching her attention. "There's something I need to say to you, Angie."
The Doctor stood there, his nerves slowly taking control of his demeanor. He wasn't often a nervous person, he was almost always in touch with his emotions and confident with whatever he did. This was different as he stood in front of the blonde Nurse, her emerald eyes probing at him, waiting for him to continue.
It was always like this with her. He always got nervous when he needed to talk to her about something that was other than their work. He could always talk to her easily about patients, because there was no depth to that, no way for her to judge his character by him talking about facts, not feelings or opinions.
He always felt like a fool in front of her, especially because out of his nervousness his clumsiness was born, making him seem like he was careless and living in his own little world. The truth was, every time he was near her, his thoughts bounced around in his head so violently that he couldn't think about anything else, especially what the outer appendages of his body were doing.
All of those thoughts that bounced around always screamed, each one fighting to be heard over another. They were almost always the same. They screamed for him to stop being such a coward, to stop fearing her rejection. He couldn't help fearing that, he couldn't help being afraid of the way her deep green eyes might widen and then look away, as if it pained her to say that she truly didn't feel the way he did.
It was always like that. He would protect himself with lame excuses, being branded as incompetent and neglectful, in her mind. He sacrificed his own self image to keep his feelings a secret, for fear of her never being able to talk to him the same way again.
He couldn't do that any longer. He no longer had an excuse.
But at that moment in time, as he opened his mouth to speak, words failed him. They disappeared into his void of thoughts the moment both of their pagers beeped furiously, signaling that there were emergency patients coming to the E.R.
Just then, his confidence would have to be stored away for later, and his thoughts would have to continue thrashing around vigorously in his skull, just as they had for the entire time he had known her.