Disclaimer: I just wish I owned it. I don't own the Greg Laswell song either.

After watching the season five premiere, I decided I'd write a one shot. There were some things left unsaid, and I wanted to deal with them. Enjoy.

How my dreams they spin me 'round
And how my dreams they let me down
And how my thoughts they spin me 'round
And how my thoughts they let me down

You asked him to move in with you. You actually did it. And now, you're back at your house with the first shipment of Derek's things. After work, you packed up boxes and drove them back to your place. Apparently, that's what people did when they decided to cohabitate.

Does that freak you out? Of course. You wouldn't be Meredith Grey if something like that didn't stir up a panic inside of you.

Especially given the fact that the one person you rely on more than anyone else doesn't seem particularly supportive of your decision. And you can't really blame Cristina. Given your history with Derek, it makes sense that she'd be skeptical about such a big thing. Hell, even you're kind of skeptical about it.

But you're determined to do it anyway. Sure, it's new and uncharted territory for you. And yet, you know that you have to do it. If you're ever going to get some semblance of a happy ending, you have to bury your demons and just do it. Because not doing it is far worse.

Looking back on your life, you don't want to have regrets. Ending up like your mother isn't an option. So you're letting a boy move into your house, even if it makes you warm and gooey.

You've decided that being known as the warm and gooey girl is far better than being the girl who almost got her happy ending. So you're going to do your damndest to make this work. Because a happy ending is something you want.

So here you are, in what was formerly your bedroom, now the bedroom you share with Derek. Already, his hair products have taken residence in your bathroom. There's a ton of it too. More than you, Izzie, and Alex have combined.

Derek is unpacking his clothes while you clear out some drawer space for him. Sharing drawers isn't that big of a deal, or even making shelf space for the Derek Shepherd hair care line. It isn't until he drops his pillows beside yours on the bed that it really hits you.

You're living with a boy. And not just any boy. Derek.

From here on in, you're going to sleep next to him every night, and wake up next to him every morning. Of course, you've both had a taste of this a while back. But somehow, it all seems much more permanent this time around.

As in spending forever with him. The word forever is scary, and yet, you don't want to run this time. You've done enough running over the years. Finally settling down with him feels right.

Derek kneels down next to you and starts putting his clothes into the drawer you prepared for him. His Clash tee shirt he sometimes wears to bed sits atop the pile and you laugh in spite of yourself.

"What?" he asks amusedly.

You shake your head. "Nothing," you lie, unable to hide the smile on your face.

He notices you staring that the shirt and smirks at you. "I've lived with you for twenty minutes and already you're making fun of me."

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," you say with a small giggle.

"That's okay," he smiles, kissing your cheek. "So you're sure you're okay with this, right?"

"Yeah it's-we're doing this. We need to do this. I don't know how to do it, but we're going to try," you say with a nod.

Derek puts some more clothes in your drawer and looks at you. "We're going to try, and we're going to succeed," he says with a smile. It's comforting, and despite your fear about this, you trust that he's right.

"Okay," you reply softly, tucking some hair behind your ear.

"Well, that's everything for now. I guess we can go get the rest of it tomorrow," Derek suggests, closing the drawer.

You both climb to your feet and stand there awkwardly for a moment. "So, uh, what do we do now?" you ask regretfully.

If Derek notices your embarrassment, he chooses not to comment on it. "Whatever you want."

"We could go eat something..." you offer. Technically, he lives here now, so you don't have the obligation to make sure you ask him, but still, you do.

Derek smiles. "Okay."

Surprisingly, dinner with Derek isn't nearly as awkward as you thought it might be. It's feels normal, whatever that means. You're comfortable around him. Conversation always came easily to the two of you. And you secretly hope it's always that way.

--

Apparently, the spark is still there too. Because after you eat, you somehow manage to end up in bed, rediscovering each other's bodies again. Obviously, some things haven't changed.

As you lie there naked and sweaty, you look over to him. This time, he's staying. The S&M of months ago has been replaced with this strange new thing called a relationship. The kind where he spends the night, every night. Keeps his toothbrush in your bathroom. And has his own copy of the house key.

"You okay?" he asks. He's still regaining his breathing when he turns to face you.

"Yeah," you say in a whisper. His pillow is slightly overlapping yours as a result of the latest romp, and you can't help but recall what you were told only hours ago and had been mulling over in your brain ever since.

"...Little pieces of yourself get chipped away by another person, and you shave little pieces of yourself away so that you'll fit together. And one day you look up, and you don't even know who you are..."

"What's wrong?" he asks worriedly. He knows that you're usually not this contemplative after sex. You wish he couldn't read you like an open book. But because he can, and you know you can't prove otherwise, you decide that this is probably as good a time as any to spill. Maybe it's good that you're a little more willing to talk after sex.

"I'm not going to change myself just so we can make this work. I want us to work, but if it means I have to turn into someone else, I can't do it," you confess, biting on your lip.

He looks at you confusedly. "I would never expect you to change. I don't want you to. I love you for who you are."

Love. He said the "L" word and it doesn't cause as much of a panic in you as you might have expected. "Okay," is all you can say. And despite your better judgment, you smile.

"You have to stay you and I have to stay me. Otherwise, I'll be cheating on you with Cristina's husband in forty years. And that's not good..." you ramble.

"When did Cristina get married?" he asks teasingly, quirking his eyebrows.

"Shut up", you laugh. "That wasn't the point."

"I know," he chuckles.

"My point is...if we do this right, it's going to lead to...bigger things. The happy ending with the house on the hill, and the marriage, and the five chatty children with perfect hair because they'll be your five chatty children. And I want those things, Derek," you ramble. You even surprise yourself at your honestly.

He grins at you, and you can see the happiness in his eyes. It disappeared some time ago, but now it's back. And you don't want him to lose it again. "I want it too."

"I'm not ready for them yet, but I do want them eventually, okay?" you assure him, maybe more for your benefit than his. He's already confident enough for both of you.

"Baby steps," he whispers, wrapping his arm around you. You feel safe for the first time in a long time, so you move closer to him. "Speaking of baby...I never told you the joke Rose sprang on me today..." he begins.

Yep, he's chatty.

He tells you what she considered to be a joke, which led to the story of how he cut his hand. And because you give him sex when he's wounded, you go at it again. Eventually, the two of you fall asleep, his arm wrapped around you like old times. Just as you drift off, you can't help but think about how living with a boy may not be so bad after all.

--

Unfortunately, the one thing you thought might not happen tonight happens once again. You have the dream. The events always unfold in the same way. You're standing in your candle house, then you rush off to the hospital, and you're always too late. He's dead. For what seems like the hundredth time, you wake up with shaky breaths in a cold sweat.

Only this time, Derek is there when you wake up. "Meredith," he says worriedly. If he was sleeping a minute ago, he's wide awake now.

"I just...it was just a dream," you say uneasily, running a hand through your hair.

"Slow, deep breaths. It's okay," he whispers. He pulls you up against him and rubs your back. As you rest you head on his shoulder, it makes you thankful that you let him move in.

"I'm afraid," you admit shakily, trying to hold back the tears. "I keep having this dream...I'm afraid of getting the happy ending. You're always dead. And I just..."

"Mer, what dream? What's going on?" he asks gently.

"You're dead. In the dream, I always get to the hospital, and you're always dead before I can say goodbye. I never..." Before you can continue, the dam bursts and you cry. Crying may make you weak and pathetic, but right now, you don't care.

"I'm not going anywhere. It's okay," he says calmly, running his fingers down your bare back. "It's okay. You can cry..."

Derek is the first person that doesn't judge you for your tears. He takes you the way you are, issues and all. He wouldn't try to change you. And that's why you let him hold you. It's why you're not running away like instinct dictates.

You know that if you're ever going to get some semblance of happiness, you can't pretend that everything is fine. You tried that before, and it didn't work. So you let it out. And in doing so, you lean into the fear. This time around, you're not going to let it get the best of you. You're going to face it head on.

When you fall back to sleep, Derek keeps his arm around you. He's here for you. He's not hovering, making you talk, or rushing you into something you're not ready for. But he's here, and that's progress.

--

When you wake up in the morning, he's no longer sleeping next to you, and yet you can already smell his scent on your sheets.

But that smell is soon overpowered by breakfast down in the kitchen, and you know exactly where he is.

You go into the bathroom, and you know he's already showered and dressed for the day. As you walk down the steps and into the kitchen, it looks so perfectly ordinary. He's sitting at the counter reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee; breakfast is ready and waiting for you. Your chatty, perfect haired boyfriend is good for something.

"Hey," you say softly. Your hair is still a mess of waves, and you're wearing some comfy pajamas. It's not glamorous, but neither of you care.

"Morning," he says with a smile. He stands up and gives you a hug and a kiss. He doesn't comment on the nightmare you had, but the way he gives you a gentle squeeze lets you know that he's here if you want to talk.

You stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. You're not known for showing affection, but then he gives you a smile that you wish would stay planted on his face forever, and you vow to do it more often.

While you're eating breakfast, he looks at you and smiles. "So you think I'm chatty, huh?"

You laugh. "Did I say that?"

"You did," he says amusedly.

"Well, it's true," you tease. "By the way, this food is good."

"I happen to be a good cook," he points out, taking a sip of his coffee.

You smile slightly. "I didn't know that."

"Well, I didn't know you thought I was chatty, so I guess we're even," he jokes.

"Okay then."

"So I was thinking we could go to dinner this weekend..." he says casually. "If you don't want to, it's fine. I just thought it might be nice."

"Yeah?"

He shrugs. "We could."

"Okay," you say with a smile. "We can do that."

"Real food, waiters, big chunks of carbs in a basket?" he muses.

You giggle. "Of course."

This is all you've ever wanted. Eating breakfast with the man you love is so completely normal, and you begin to wonder why you were so scared in the first place.

His pillow is next to yours, his hair products are in your bathroom, and his clothes are in your drawer. Eventually his fishing gear will probably end up in your garage. His shoes will wind up next to yours in the entryway of the house, and you'll know when he needs more shampoo. And you've decided that it's okay. You can be happy, healthy. It's possible.

Little things like this can lead to big things. The stuff of dreams. And you want the dream. It's not always going to be magical, but that's life. It has its ups and downs. But you'd much rather be experiencing those ups and downs with him than doing it alone.

So maybe people don't have happily ever afters, or even ever afters. But that's never been you anyway. The things you dreamt about as a child didn't include Cinderella and the castle. You just dreamt about getting a little happiness. To do what your mother didn't do.

This is all new and different to you. It's scary, even. But the fear, well, it's there for a reason. And now, you're even more determined to kick fear's ass. Otherwise, what's the point?

You want the fairy tale, even if everyone around you keeps telling you it doesn't exist. You want the house in the wilderness, and the chatty husband, and the five chatty children. That in itself is a miracle. Just because your mother couldn't do it doesn't mean you can't.

To your surprise and relief, you don't have the nightmare again. Instead, the nightmare is replaced with the dream. The dream of you and Derek getting it right. Of getting your own little imperfect fairy tale. You're not striving for perfection, just some happiness. That's all you've ever wanted anyway.

And then there's you
Then there's you
And then there's you
Then there's you

I wanted Meredith to have a little hope, because let's face it. She needs it. So that was my goal as I wrote this. I wanted to give her a taste of happiness, even if it's something as normal as eating breakfast in the morning with Derek, because that's all she really wants. Hope you liked it.

Reviews make my day! :)