Work Text:
A Joke
by Margaret Newman
"So... this guy goes into a doctor's office." Tom feigned an uncomfortable composure, as if he were unused to telling a joke. Sloan smiled at him, eyes bright and full of confidence in him. "And the female... at the desk... a receptionist?"
"Yes, a receptionist." She nods encouragingly.
"Asks him what he is there for." Tom frowns, glancing down at his cup of coffee as if reviewing the joke in his head. "The man says `shingles'. The receptionist then has him sit down in the waiting room, and he fills out forms. He takes the forms back up, and a different lady asks him what he is there for, and he replies `shingles'. He is instructed to sit back down, and he does. He waits. Finally, he is called in to a room..." He frowns as if trying to think of what the room might be called.
"Exam room." Sloan nods again, hanging on his every word.
"Yes, that's it. Exam room." He pauses, taking a sip of his coffee. "The nurse asks him what he is there for, and he replies again, `shingles'. She asks him a few other questions, and leaves. Several minutes later, the doctor comes in and asks him what he's there for."
"Okay." Sloan waits expectantly for the punch line. Tom takes another sip of his coffee. She frowns at him. "You forgot the punch line."
"Punch line?" He blinks innocently. "No, I didn't forget the punch line."
"Then what is it?" She is practically out of her seat now. He's finding it hard to keep his grin to himself.
"The man replies." He draws a breath. "Shingles, out in the truck. Where do you want them?"
"Ah!" Sloan yells in mock fury, acting as if she were going to throttle him. They laugh together, and for a moment it's just them. The outside world has ceased to exist.
Tom reaches over and takes her hand, bringing it to his lips, kisses her fingertips. He was going to have to buy a joke book, this was simply too much fun.
end