Before you continue, allow me to issue a couple of warnings.
1) The following chapter is a little short. Under 1,000 words. So if that isn't enough to satisfy you, please don't seek me out and strangle me with an extension cord.
2) There are but two words of dialogue. Please see Number 1.
3) Prepare yourself for mushy, gushy, make-you-want-to-drown-yourself-in-pudding piles of fluffiness. (Wow. That made very little sense. I suppose my brain is processing only gibberish today. Geeble kurk nibby zook.)
Translation: Enough with my useless babble.
When Carla barreled into the third floor on-call room, her feet froze solidly in place. She would have bet her life's savings that the scene unfolding before her couldn't possibly happen.
Dr. Perry Cox was slumped on the bottom bunk, cradling his head in his hands. His auburn curls were twisted painfully between his fingers, and glistening tears dripped rapidly down his face. Perry sniffed audibly, wiped his cheeks roughly with the back of his hand, and glanced wordlessly up at Carla.
An aching wave of tears swelled in the center of Carla's chest. She covered her mouth with her hand and blinked in disbelief, trying to maintain composure. After a few moments of deafening silence, her hand dropped to her side and she took three purposeful steps toward Perry.
The impenetrable Dr. Cox tilted his head back to watch her with bloodshot cobalt eyes. He ran a hand over his face and softly cleared his throat. "Hey," he whispered gruffly.
Carla kneeled in front of him on the cold linoleum floor, never breaking eye contact. She placed a hand on each of his knees. "Hey."
Without a second thought, Dr. Cox leaned over and placed his index finger under Carla's chin, tilting her face up towards his own. With every millimeter between their lips that disappeared, he became more positive that she would pull away. But she didn't. And their mouths met gracefully and harmoniously.
Carla's glistening brown eyes closed on contact, and she extended a quivering hand to rest on the side of Perry's face. This kiss was everything that Turk lacked. This kiss was comfort, music, poetry without words. This kiss was perfect. More perfect than she could have imagined.
Dr. Cox placed a hand on either side of Carla's chest and pulled her closer. He had been waiting for this moment ever since he walked into that tiny dump of a pizza parlor. Even after he met Jordan, even after Jack was born, he never could quench that ember that glowed only for Carla.
The moments following were blissfully silent. There were no smacking sounds, no gnashing of teeth, no moans of pleasure. Their kiss continued, chaste and tender, until Carla reluctantly broke away.
She opened her mouth and narrowed her glistening eyes, as if she were about to scold him.
Perry's eyelids closed to stem the flow of tears. His Adam's apple bobbed visibly in his throat, and Carla could have sworn she heard the slightest of whimpers.
There was no way she could leave him like this. Not Carla Espinosa, Universal Den-Mother.
She watched Perry's weathered hand close around her tiny fingers, gave him permission with a gentle squeeze.
He wiped his cheeks with his free hand and leaned in once more, waiting for a breathless moment before their mouths met. Closing his eyes once more, Perry gripped her waist. Their mouths opened in unison.
Carla gasped silently. Her brain screamed angrily in her ears: What the hell are you doing? What about Turk? How could you do this to him? But then Perry's hand crept to her upper arm and guided her into his lap, and Carla's heart didn't even have to answer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his, deepening the kiss to the point of no return.
Responding eagerly, Perry let go of her fingers and placed a strong hand on either side of Carla's face. He hated pity more than anything else in the world, but something told him that this was approaching something beyond the purpose of comfort.
He pulled away, panting softly, and peered deep into Carla's eyes. The desperately forlorn look in his eyes conveyed his unspoken message.
Carla nodded somberly and got to her feet, watching Perry carefully as he followed suite. Their hands didn't part ways until they reached the hallway, then rejoined in the elevator. Not out of romantic notions, just out of mutual need for physical contact, the reassuring feeling of their hands held steadfastly in one another's.
The lobby was unusually vacant at two o'clock in the morning. Even the admitting nurse had abandoned her post for a coffee break. The phone was persistently silent, and not a soul had stepped through the sliding glass doors in over an hour.
Which was just as well. Because no one was there to see the glistening tears in Perry's eyes. No one was there to see Carla's tangled curls and her tear-stained scrubs.
But most importantly, no one was there to see the long-term girlfriend of Dr. Christopher Turk walk solemnly out of the hospital holding the hand of Dr. Percival Cox.
Beek quirkle vrumbling. Snock yoodle bunging, chun, ix iffergibble shroof.
Translation: Please review. You shall receive cyberhugs, cookies, and my undying love and gratitude.
Not to be desperate or anything.