Imagine: It's your first day at Grey Slone Memorial Hospital
"Hi, I'm a little lost here, do you know where I can find Dr Webber?"
"I'll walk you to it, I'm heading there anyways"
"Sorry, I wasn't looking, hey are you a new intern here? I don't think I've seen you before"
"Holy shit you are Jackson Avery! And you are talking to me! I feel like I'm talking to a royalty of some sort!"
"I can't seem to get those chartings correctly, I thought being a doctor was about saving lives not doing paperwork!"
"Enough whining newbie, we've all been there, and before you know it, you'll have minions to do your dirty work for you... if you survive the internship program of course"
"Ortho is a great specialty for those who want to enjoy themselves while working"
Summary: you’re finishing your last year of university in london, and what better way do to that than with an internship at holland and osterfield’s?
Warnings: mention of sex, some embarrassment? i think that’s it
Words: 1.7k+
a/n: i’m sorry this took awhile. i’m also sorry it’s short and really bad. i promise it will get better with the next chapter
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Balancing the three cups of steaming Earl Grey, you enter through the same revolving doors you had entered through three days prior. As you do so, the clicking of high heels against tile and constant murmur of people talking greets you. This time, you are early enough to admire the beautiful architecture of the big hall.
The foyer is modern, and it is easy to understand that the two heads of the company are on the younger side. The same young woman is seated behind the welcome desk, but she doesn’t smile at you this time, focusing her eyes on the screen in front of her.
You head toward the elevator, deciding that would be the safest route to the fourth story with three cups of hot tea in your hands. The metal doors slide apart, and you step inside not having time to push the designated button before you hear someone call out to hold the elevator.
Harrison Osterfield slips inside just as the door closes. You only know it’s him because you recognize him from the pictures you had found online. After your quite humiliating interview with Tom on Friday, you had gone straight home to Google the two men behind the success. You found more information than you bargained for.
“What floor?”
You look up, not realizing you had been lost in your thoughts. “Oh, uh, fourth, please,” you mumble, unsure if you should introduce yourself or not.
“Hey, you’re Ms. Y/L/N, right? I’m Harrison Osterfield,” he extends his hand, biting his bottom lip when he realizes your hands are full. “Tom told me all about you.”
Your eyes widen involuntarily. What had Tom told him? Did he know you and Tom had slept together the night before your interview? You inwardly scold yourself, already feeling your cheeks heat up. You nod to confirm his assumption.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Osterfield. I hope he only told you the good things,” you smile, composing yourself. “Here. I brought you a tea. I wasn’t sure how you liked it, so I left it plain.”
Harrison grins, happily taking one of the teas from the tray on your hand. He brings it closer to his face, inhaling the steam escaping through the lid. You follow his movements closely without realizing. His captivating blue eyes meet yours, and you can’t make yourself look away.
“Mm,” he hums, his lips curving into a smirk. “Earl Grey. My favorite.”
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open with a ding. Harrison holds his arm out, motioning for you to exit first. With a grateful smile, you walk out, your heels clicking against the grey ceramic tiles. He follows you out, telling you to walk with him. You comply.
“Your company is very impressive, Mr. Osterfield,” you compliment, struggling to keep up with the man’s long strides.
“Please, call me Harrison. I know I’m getting older, but I’m not that old,” Harrison shoots you a smile and you can’t help but laugh. “I’m the one who’s impressed. I took a look at your portfolio and the classes you’ve taken over the weekend.”
You glance over at him and he’s already looking at you when you do. Biting your lip, you look down at your black heels, pretending to focus on where you’re stepping. You can feel the unwelcome heat spread across your cheeks, and you curse yourself for being so easily affected.
“Thank you,” you catch yourself, a small giggle escaping you before you can stop it. “Harrison.”
The two of you enter a larger room with five or maybe six desks, you didn’t have time to count them, too busy taking in the atmosphere. You follow Harrison toward a plain white desk against a wall. The desk faces the window and as you look outside, you realize once again how beautiful London truly is.
“Well,” Harrison begins, raising his eyebrows. “Get comfortable, I suppose. You’ll be spending a lot of time here.”
“What do you- wait, this is mine?”
He just nods, his lips pulling back and exposing his pearly white teeth as he smiles. Gently setting the cardboard to-go tray down on the desk, you look around your new workspace for the next six months. Maybe working here isn’t going to be so bad after all?
“One of the best views of London,” Harrison notes, watching you admire the view once again. “Of course, this has nothing against-”
“Tom’s office, I know,” you interject, catching yourself too late. “I-I mean, Mr. Holland’s office. I noticed the breathtaking view on Friday.”
You notice a smirk growing on his lips, but he composes himself and nods with a gentle smile. It dawns on you then that they both enjoy teasing others, and you understand why they are best friends in the first place. Another picture from Google pops into your head suddenly, one of Tom and Harrison together at a club, and you quickly shake your head to make it disappear.
“Yeah, Tom’s office is pretty neat,” Harrison affirms, his eyes meeting yours once again momentarily. “He’s not here today though. Has a few meetings. I best be off. I’m expecting a call in ten minutes. If you need anything, my office is down the hall from Tom’s and to the left.”
Then, he’s gone. You plop down in the white leather chair with a sigh, staring at the faint steam escaping the two remaining cups. Well, that had been a waste of money. Harrison, at least, seemed to appreciate the gesture. Opening your laptop bag, you pull out your Macbook, setting it on the desk. It isn’t until after you have logged in with the information they had sent you that you realize you have no clue what you’re supposed to be doing.
You contemplate your options briefly; you try to figure it out by yourself or you go to Harrison’s office to ask. You’re halfway out of your chair when your laptop beeps, signaling a new e-mail. Sitting back down, you click on the notification bubble and wait for the e-mail to load. You ignore the slight increase in your heartbeat when you notice it’s from Harrison. Realizing it’s a list of tasks, you decide to get right on it, desperate to get away from your inappropriate thoughts.
Three hours later, you’re standing outside of the building with your phone in your hand. One of the many attractive women working with the company had informed you that it was your turn to take lunch. You take a sip of the cold tea in your hand, having been too busy to enjoy it while it was hot.
“Cece, I swear, they’re both inhumanely attractive. I get flustered just at the thought of them.”
Your best friend Cecilia hums teasingly at the other end of the receiver, and you know she’s smirking. The two of you had never met until the first day you moved into your apartment. After finding her post online about needing a roommate, you e-mailed her and the two of you quickly came to an agreement. When you knocked on the door on your first day in London, the rest was history.
“I still can’t believe you slept with him. Out of all the men in the bar that night, he was the one you went home with.”
“Yes, I know. Just my fucking luck. I slept with my boss the day before my interview. Tom’s not even here today. I even brought him tea-”
“You brought me tea?”
Cecilia gasps loudly at the other end, having heard the question too. You whip around, too quickly it seems, because your fingers slip, the cup of tea falling and splattering on the ground. Tom’s lips curve into a smirk, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. He removes them, cocking an eyebrow.
“I-I- Harrison, I mean, Mr. Osterfield told me you weren’t going to be here today,” you excuse weakly, inwardly scolding yourself as you hear your best friend’s faint giggle crackle through the phone.
“I wasn’t,” Tom confirms, reaching up and effortlessly pulling the brown sunglasses off his face. “My meeting finished early. Besides, I figured it was best to check in on our new intern.”
He smiles at you, almost innocently, and you swallow the frustration growing within you, figuring out it’s best not to yell at your boss on your first day of work. You merely nod, staring at the wet stain the spilled tea had left on the asphalt.
Momentarily, the pictures you had seen while doing research pop into your head. You ignore the twinge of jealousy that comes with the various pictures of Tom with different women on his arm. There had been too many to count, and you had quickly ended your search.
“Well, I’m fine,” you state sharply. “Actually, I better get back to work. Harrison has a few more things he needs me to do.”
You bend down, not caring about your skirt riding up to expose more skin. Picking up the cup from the floor, you toss it into the nearby trashcan, not sparing Tom another look as you head toward the entrance.
“Harrison, huh?” Tom’s voice comes out from behind you, slowing your movements. “Since when are you on a first name basis with my best mate?”
Turning around, you meet his eyes. He had put his sunglasses back on, but you know he’s looking at you through the lenses. Silently, you curse the universe for being so cruel toward you. It’s not enough to work with the guy had a spent a wild night with, he also enjoyed teasing you about it.
“Since your best mate told me to,” you reply, turning back around and entering the building.
As you trudge through the crowd of people, you briefly consider acquiring a new internship. It is only your first day after all. You quickly throw the thought away, knowing how unrealistic it is, but you desperately need to think of something other than the underlying tone of jealousy in Tom’s voice.
He had no right to be jealous. The two of you had shared one night together, although it had been a night you won’t forget anytime soon, it was still just that; one night. You aren’t his and he isn’t yours. In any other situation, you know his envy would be flattering.
It isn’t until you reach the elevator and reach out to press the button marked four that you realize you’re still on the phone with Cecelia. You slowly bring it up to your ear, hearing her call out your name questioningly.
“These six months will be the death of me,” you inform her, watching as the silver doors close in front of you. “We’re going to the club on Friday.”
tagging people who told me they liked it: @chamilsanya @spiderbiteholland @curlytoms @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @obsesivesun @hollandcentral
