AN: this came to me the other day, and i have kind of always wanted to write a copdoc quickie since i adore the ladies who play them and its a unique crackship that provides for a ton of snark. Anyways, i am not sure where this will go, so i throw this tiny bit up to see what you think. I am starting to work on the other story while i edit RA, so be patient!

As always i own nothing Lost Girl, just the crazy hijinks.

Slurpee Saturday

I am a creature of habit and routine and currently that habitual routine has me walking into the convenience store by my house at two am for a Slurpee.

It started a month ago when on a whim I stopped on a hot Saturday night after my shift looking for something to chase away the weeks stress. Finding it in a frozen cola treat and three extra-large rice Krispy treats. Strange combination for an emergency room doctor, but I didn't care. I had no one but my empty house to judge me.

Walking into the bright fluorescent store, I nodded a hello to Moe, the bald headed fully bearded man that stood watch over the counter in a bright blue smock. "Good evening doc, in for the usual?"

I stood at the Slurpee machine, filling up the largest cup with brown frozen goodness, deciding to dump a shot or two of whiskey into the mix the moment I was home. "As always, Moe." I turned to the barrel of a man, watching his eyes roam over my scrubs like they always did in hopes of catching a curve or a glimpse of skin. I knew I was a rarity on this man's midnight shift, a young attractive sober female, a doctor at that, but I wouldn't budge. Keeping on the sweaty scrubs until I was in the safety of my car, backing out of the parking lot. I walked to the counter, scooping up two rice Krispy treats along the way, "How is your night going?" Moe and I had started a strange acquaintanceship born out of him being my sugar supplier and me being his favorite late night buyer.

Moe shrugged meaty shoulders, "Same as always. Drunks are starting to file in one by one, looking for Gatorade or beer." He glanced up at the clock, "Hoping to make it through the night without cleaning up barf in the bathroom."

I smiled tightly, handing over the cash. I had been thrown up on twice, changed bloody scrubs once and had to stitch up a drunk's forehead. I sort of understood Moe's pain. "I wish you luck then." I took the offered change, collected my treats and walked out, wishing Moe a good night.

Inside my car, I peeled off the sweaty scrub top and tossed it in a ball on the seat next to me. Sighing hard, I sipped the frozen cola, wondering if life would ever break from the routine on the outside of the emergency room. If my life would ever be more than lonely trips to Moe's store for sugary treats that would put me in a sugar coma and make me forget how lonely I was on Saturday nights.

Throwing the car in gear, I sped off towards home. Deciding that three shots of bourbon would be a perfect companion.

One week later -

I was in a foul mood, far more foul than the usual when the end of my work week came around. It had been a busy night and I was tired. Beyond tired and instead of going out with a few nurses for drinks and maybe snagging an overnight guest, I rushed out of the locker room and wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and sleep with the tv on.

Shoving the door open, I threw up a casual wave towards Moe, eyes forward on the Slurpee machine and the biggest bag of cheese puffs on the rack. I sighed heavily, filling up the bucket sized plastic cup, idly wondering why I hadn't heard Moe ask me the same thing he asked every Saturday night. I turned to look over my shoulder at the counter.

Moe was nowhere to be found, in his usual place underneath the cigarette racks was a tall, young, blonde woman, sitting up on the counter reading a tabloid magazine and gnawing on a beef jerky stick. The woman paid me no attention, giving me the opportunity to run my eyes over the woman, the very attractive woman swallowed up in a Moe size blue smock. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, giving full view of her jaw line, long neck, pink glossed lips that held the beef jerky with expertise. I couldn't tell what color her eyes were, her face buried with a furrowed brow into the exploits of the rich and famous sleeping with aliens and the president.

I felt my skin warm up, and not from the oppressive heat of the summer cursing the night, but from the simple beauty of the woman sitting on a dirty counter. I couldn't help it, and continued staring. It had been a minute or three since a woman caught my attention like this one did.

I went to turn away when big greenish blue eyes raised up from the top edge of the magazine and met mine, a confident smirk crossing her face, "Watch it hot shot, I just mopped the floor."

I felt my face turn a hot red, looking down to see my cup overflowing frozen cola all over my hand. "Shit." I set the cup down, grabbing a thick stack of napkins to wipe off my hands and the small blob that had fallen to the floor. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted." The woman's voice was borderline sexy in the tone and the way you could tell she was overconfident. She turned back to her magazine, tearing off another chunk of jerky like she was a ravenous dog. She was hot, but wasn't that hot. Overconfidence was a turn off in my book, regardless of how her eyes sparkled like the Mediterranean Sea.

I blew out a breath, tossing the sticky napkins, reaching for my cup and picking up a bag of maple bacon chips with my usual Krispy treats. "Moe off today?"

The blonde kept her eyes on the magazine, "Yea, he's on vacation for a while."

I nodded, setting my pile of crap food on the counter, "Lucky guy." I dug around in my back scrub pocket for a few bills.

The blonde slid off the counter, allowing me a quick peek at her label maker special nametag. "Tamsin? Is that Swedish?" My brain to mouth filter was clearly off for the night, and I cringed realizing I asked the question out loud.

She gave me a death glare, pushing keys on the cash register with force, "its nunya."

"Nunya?"

"Yea, nunya business." She glared at me harder, "Four fifty."

I frowned, suddenly missing Moe's annoying but far more pleasant demeanor, handing over a five dollar bill. "Sorry, I am tired. It's been a long night and I don't think well this tired."

Tamsin rolled her eyes, handing over the change, "I could care less about your life story." She smiled with an assy grin, hopped back up in the counter and returned to her magazine.

I clenched my jaw, trying to swallow the urge to tell this woman to find some manners, grabbed my things and rushed out of the store.

Backing out of the parking lot I shook my head, I hated it when beautiful women ruined the fantasy by being cocky bitches.

Two weeks Later –

The heat was oppressive and almost forced me to bypass routine to go straight home and sit on top of the vents in my house, the air conditioning blasting an artic chill up my scrubs.

But like every routine in my life, I found myself pulling into the parking lot without realizing I had even driven there. I sighed, resting my head against the steering wheel, I really needed to get a life or want to get a life. Work was swallowing me whole and as much as I loved my hermit lifestyle, I was craving more. So much more that I had actually started talking to the nurses in the break room, indulging in the vapid gossip that was the lifeblood of City Hospital.

I groaned, sliding out of the cool comfort of my car to be slapped in the face with a thick wall of heat, thinking how shallow I sounded. I was a polite, genuine person that treated everyone with respect, but stunk at being social. I was a huge nerdy brainiac that often chased people away with my desert dry intelligent humor that was laden with a splash of too much intelligence. I didn't know how to gossip, I didn't know how to interject into a conversation about last night's flower ceremony on TV, and I only knew how to insert a chest tube with a flick of the wrist or diagnose a patient just on how their breath smelled.

Dragging my messy, dirty hair in a bun, I pushed through the glass doors, making a direct line to the Slurpee machine. Side glancing a box of doughnuts as a possible add on. I kept my head down, too wrapped up in my self-loathing thoughts staring at the brown slush cascading into a cup.

I stifled a yawn when I heard a rough gravelly voice echo out into the gas pumps outside, "Hey dickface on pump 3, put the fucking cigarette out before I put it out on your face."

I spun around to lock eyes on the blonde, Tamsin, leaning over the microphone flipping the young kid pumping gas outside. She shook her head before plopping back up on to the counter with this week's tabloids and a giant bear claw she mauled in two bites.

I sighed, she was really attractive but she was rough like a trucker or one of those biker chicks I slapped a cast on a few hours into my shift. Clipping a lid on, I took my plastic cup of liquid sugar, grabbed the box of sugar doughnuts and headed to the counter. I kept my head down, hoping the blonde would ignore me and I could leave by just putting a ten dollar bill on the counter top.

"For a doctor you should know that the brown sludge is nothing but sugar and chemicals."

I glanced at Tamsin, "What makes you think I'm a doctor?" The egotistical shitty tone in her voice made me want to bite back.

Tamsin slid off the counter, tossing her magazine to the side and pointed at my chest with her last bite of bear claw, "Your ID badge, Dr. Lauren Lewis, trauma surgeon, city hospital." She tapped on the cash register, "You should probably leave your badge in the car, so people don't get ideas at this late of an hour." She smirked, then turned to the window, growling as she slammed her palm on the microphone, shouting, "Dipshit! What the fuck did I say?"

The kid shot his head towards the blonde, ripping the lit cigarette out of his mouth before stamping it out on the roof of his shiny Mercedes.

"Fucking people, gas is flammable. Not that hard of a concept." Tamsin rolled her eyes, tapping a few more keys.

I huffed, "Well, he looks to be barely driving age. I doubt by the car he is driving that anyone ever taught him the rules of pumping gas." I had no idea why I was defending the dipshit kid, but something about Tamsin made me want to rub her the wrong way.

She scowled at me, "Doc, I am sure you've seen a burn victim or two that would support my anger towards dipshitty kids." Tamsin poked at my box of doughnuts, "Unless you're one of those do as I say not as I do doctors?"

I looked up, meeting green eyes that were full of sass and mischief and for a second, made my heart skip at how beautiful they were. "How much?"

"Three fifty." She smirked, "Grumpy tonight Dr. Lewis?"

I threw a five dollar bill on the counter, "When does Moe come back?"

The smirk grew into a grin, "Like I said, not for a while, you're stuck with me."

Grabbing my Slurpee and doughnuts I turned to walk out when I heard in a less abrasive tone, "Leave your badge in the car, Dr. Lewis, no one needs to know who you are. These streets can be a shitty place late at night and I would hate for you to get hurt."

I threw her a strange look over my shoulder, nodding a quick confused thank you before the smirk returned, "See you next week for your sugar fix, Doctor."

Getting back into the car, I stared at the blonde sitting back on the counter, staring back at me with a soft look before she picked up her tabloid magazine and returned to eating a second bear claw like it was her job.

I sighed, sipping on the Slurpee, there was something in Tamsin's eyes that had me wondering more about her, wondering if her brash trucker attitude was just for show. Kind of like my polite, genuine doctor show I put on every day to keep my coworkers at a distance.