Work Text:
There was something of a sanctuary to the Turner bedroom. A place that was just them, and their secrets. Conversation of work sometimes slipped in, but it was never too much there. In the Turner bedroom, they were free to be people first, and a doctor and a nurse second.
"Shelagh, what do you think of men that take on the lives of women?" Patrick asked, as he settled onto the bed beside.
"Well, there's certainly research to it. They exist there's no denying it," Shelagh said. She hummed as she took off her glasses, and rested them on the bedside table. "There was oh what's her name, a few years ago. She was in Picture Post. And there's the reverse of course."
"Yes, Roberta Cowell," Patrick said.
"Patrick, why are you bringing this up now?" she asked. Patrick tried to smile at her reassuringly. "Are one of the patients asking about?"
"No Shelagh, it's me," he said.
"Oh Patrick," she said, reach over to tangle their hands together. "This doesn't have to change anything between us. And I'm sure that Timothy would understand too. Angela's a bit young, but-"
"I don't know if I want to do it all publicly," Patrick interrupted. She nodded. "I just know that at home I'd be much happier as your wife."
"Then at home you'll be my wife," Shelagh said.
"Thank you dear," she said. "I think I'd like a more feminine version of my name at home too," she added.
"Patricia?" she suggested. She paused for a moment, thinking it over, before nodding.
"Patricia, I think it suits me," Patricia said. Shelagh nodded, and squeezed her hand again.
"I think so too," Shelagh said.