#ft. yolanda garcia

[frthestars]

you keep pulling stunts like this and something bad will happen. (yolanda)

Yo snorts, shaking her head.

Christine's concern is sweet, but unnecessary. Yo knows which boundaries to trample, which ones to toe the line, and which to avoid crossing entirely.

"I'll be fine," Yo reminds Christine, placing an extra protein bar in her backpack. It's a Friday, she knows it'll be busy. There won't be any time to make it the cafeteria. "Dr. Drew's like a small dog - yappy."

[frthestars]

Frank tells Yolanda, "I don't owe you any explanation."

Yolanda rolls her eyes, uncaring if it makes her appear childish. It's fitting for this conversation, at least, Frank grating on her nerves as a young, annoying child would.

"Of course you don't," she says with a careless shrug, pulling her lunch tray closer to herself and picking up a fork. The cafeteria isn't her favorite place to sit, less so when it's busy, but occasionally she needs a change of scenery. And most importantly, a place to sit.

"But," Yolanda points her fork at him. "You sat down here. You started babbling - so obviously, you must want something. What is it, Franky, validation you're looking for?" // @drbrat

[frthestars]

my pleasures are my secret. (for yolanda)

Yo is winded, enough so that her harsh breathing frustrates her. It bruises her ego.

She's a surgeon. She's nearly finished with her residency. She spends long shifts on her feet working a very physical job. Jogging with her Christine shouldn't leave her winded.

But, she's a surgeon. She works long shifts. Certain things slip, and exercise is the easiest thing to let go off when Yo's overwhelmed with all that she has to do in her limited time off.

"How - how are you making jokes right now," Yo asks, annoyed and maybe a little in awe, as she slows her jog into a walk.

[frthestars]

🌿🍒 for yo <3

Yo lets herself be backed against the door frame. Cassie's smug smile is worth the show of vulnerability.

"You know," she says softly, not needing to speak so loud with Cassie close. Yo might have gone willingly, but she can't resist the snark. She can't simply let things be. "Holidays are a social construct."

As if everything isn't. As if Yo doesn't light candles every year. Well, she usually just pushes a button to light up her electric menorah, but the intention is there.

And it makes it that much sweeter when Cassie shuts her up with a kiss.

[frthestars]

what have i walked into? / for yolanda

"Nothing," Yo answers, not lifting her gaze from the chopping board before her.

She continues cutting the brisket into perfect two-inch chunks, her precision resembling her surgical technique. This portion of cooking is her favorite, the methodical process of prepping. Yo doesn't cook as often as she should, and she intends to enjoy every minute of the process.

"It's beef bourguignon," she explains once Cassie steps closer. "Though, I'm not sure Julia Child would care for my substituting mushrooms for bacon."

[frthestars]

Yo drops her half eaten fry back into it's basket, rubbing the salt off her fingers with a short sigh.

"I don't want to talk about love anymore."

She's not sure how their simple burger and fries wandered into such heavy, dangerous territory. They'd been laughing, talk switching between Harrison and oddball emergency cases with ease.

Then, likely springing off a case either had mentioned, their conservation had turned to first kisses. Yo hadn't minded at first, a little happy to tease.

But now her stomach turns, and she can't blame it on the grease.

#88 - Golden Age by E.thel Cain // @drb4ngs

[frthestars]

Cassie said, 'perhaps we can stave off the inevitable for a little while.'

Yolanda yawns.

She's not sure the last time she's been in the main floor's residents' lounge. The rare times Yolanda has a break long enough to assume a horizontal position, she usually claims a couch in the surgical lounge upstairs or, preferably, one of the on-call bunks.

"I can't fall asleep," she manages to say as her yawn subsides. No matter her exhaustion, which is immense, Yolanda had been too tired to make it to the elevator and had instead flopped here, it'll be worst with ten or twenty minutes of sleep.

Yolanda needs at least thirty minutes to feel properly awake. Too short a nap and she'll feel hung over, useless. Resting with her eyes open will have to do.

"I'm really trying not to think about how many butts have sat on this couch." // @drb4ngs

[frthestars]

Lucy says, "Least we'll give 'em something to talk about."

Yolanda sighs at the remark. It sounds almost sweet coming from Lucy, whose always dipping into the er and surgical floor with an upbeat step and a smile on her face.

It's commendable, even Yolanda can admit that. It's not easy to maintain brightness in the hospital. It's also annoying, more so given the tight quarters they're stuck in.

Fuck this stupid hospital and it's low budget. This is the third time an elevator's stalled out this month, trapping personnel inside.

Yolanda tips her head back, staring up at the emergency light. "I'd like not to be included in hospital gossip." Unless it's her name and a rock star surgical save, of course.