Characters: Dr. Forrester (OC), Samara Forrester (OC), Harry
Word count: 587
Summary: Forrester learns that being a wizard's pet doctor can be hazardous to one's dinner plans.
Author's notes: Written for tigerkat24 who asked for 'Forrester - oh, ye gods, it's him again' and for the 'Work' prompt on my occhallenge table.
Forrester didn’t mind paperwork too much. He found it was a good way to the end the day and leave everything at the hospital when he went home. He could review the cases he’d worked on and file them away. Of course, in order to do that, he had to decipher the scrawled notes he’d made throughout the day. It would be an insult to doctorkind if his handwriting was actually legible, but still. It was embarrassing when you couldn’t read your own handwriting.
“Le...” he tried to sound out the word. “Lu...lupus? No, it’s never lupus.”
The phone on his desk rang. He picked up the receiver and absently muttered “Forrester,” into it.
“Hello Forrester. This is Mrs. Forrester,” Samara’s voice came through the line. “You may remember me from our wedding day.”
“You do sound familiar,” he said, smiling. “You’re the cute brunette bird, right?”
“I am the beautiful and intelligent brunette bird,” she said, primly.
“Ah yes, I seem to recall someone of that description,” Forrester said. He was still trying to figure out the word in his head. Lennox? It was definitely an L word. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Forrester?”
Dishes clinked in the background “I am inviting you to dinner,” she said. “At our home, where you live. Do you think we could arrange something for this evening?”
“Landau!” Forrester said, triumphantly. “Landau-Von Hippel Syndrome!”
Samara was too used to her husband’s non-sequiters to be perturbed. “Yes, love,” she said, patiently. “I am making vegetarian lasagna, if that further entices you.”
“Consider me enticed,” Forrester said. His fingers tapped at the keyboard to finish off the report. “And I should be home at the proper dinner hour tonight.”
“Excellent,” she said, sounding very cheerful. “I will - “
A beep over the phone line interrupted her. Forrester glanced down at the phone to see the second line was lit up. He glared at it, debated ignoring it, knew he never would and asked Samara to hold for a moment.
“Forrester,” he said, after pressing the correct button.
“Hey Doc, this is Nurse Laurie from, like, Emergency?” a young voice greeted him. Far too young to be a nurse, he always thought. “That Dresden guy just came in and I thought I should, like, let you know? You know, like a head’s up or whatever?”
Forrester rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What do you when he comes in and I’m not here?” he asked.
“We wait for you to come in,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Forrester had to grin at that, but it quickly disappeared along with the hopes of his vegetarian lasagna. “How badly is he hurt?” he said.
“Like, bad,” Laurie said.
“I’ll be down presently,” Forrester said, with a sigh. There was a confused noise on the other end. “Soon. I’ll be down soon.”
“Cool,” Laurie said. “Later, Doc.”
Forrester switched back to the other line. “Sammie?”
“I’ve already ordered pizza online,” she said, with amusement. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I love you,” he said, with feeling.
“You should,” she said.
Ten minutes later, Forrester arrived at curtain three in the ER, behind which a very battered looking Harry Dresden was lying on a gurney.
“Werewolves,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Of course,” Forrester said, getting to work in examining the wounds. “You owe me vegetarian lasagna, Mr. Dresden.”
“Uh, the werewolves took my money,” Dresden said.
And, weighing the enjoyment levels of vegetarian lasagna, versus hearing a tale of lycanthropic muggers, Forrester had to admit that it wouldn’t be a complete loss. Besides, after he wrote that book on his experiences with Harry Dresden, he could retire on the profits and have all the lasagna he wanted.