Author's Note: Before you get started with this story, I just wanted to say a really heartfelt thank-you for all of the wonderful reviews you guys have given the last story so far. You left me grinning like a fool at my computer screen, full of warm and fuzzy things that made me one of Cristina's happy pod people. Thank you SO much for the support. It means the world, and I appreciate it immensely.

STEP BY STEP

Derek Shepherd was tired. An hour ago, he'd felt lively for the first time in weeks, but now? Now, he was just tired.

An hour ago, he had been drinking, and laughing, and flirting up a storm with a cute brunette oncologist. It had been his first foray into the dating world after Meredith, and to say that he'd been apprehensive would have been a gross understatement, but the date had actually gone well. Rose, the oncologist, was essentially the perfect woman. She was smart, and funny, and gorgeous, and any other time, he would've been more than happy to lead her out of the bar and into his trailer for a midnight rendezvous. Unfortunately for Rose, the rose tint of the evening had been overshadowed entirely by the grey-green of Meredith's eyes as they lurked in the back of his head.

Rose was smart, and funny, and gorgeous, but she wasn't Meredith. In fact, her bright and shiny attitude made her the farthest thing from Meredith.

Apparently, in the month that Derek had returned to the dating world, "not Meredith" had become a dealbreaker. Because he had enjoyed the conversation immensely, and flirting was fun—he was delighted, after all, to discover that he could still have a positive effect on women—but the thought of playing tonsil-hockey with the cute oncologist had left him with a strange, nauseated feeling.

At the end of the night, Rose had leaned in to kiss him, and all he'd been able to think was, How in the hell am I going to explain this to Meredith?

He pulled up next to the trailer and heaved a painful sigh as he cut the engine.

A smart, funny, gorgeous girl had been very obviously into him, and he'd sent her home with a kiss on the cheek and the mother of all dismissals; "We should do this again sometime."

Exhaustion seeped deep into his bones, inciting more than a physical ache.

Life is not supposed to be this hard. Love is not supposed to be this hard.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he slammed the car door shut and began the short trek from the car to the front steps.

"Okay, seriously? Seriously?! I know you're all about melodrama and secret pain and cultivating deep, passionate love within unsuspecting females, but…this is low. Even for you, this is low."

When he didn't immediately recognize the voice, Derek looked up. As soon as he caught sight of the figure perched on his favorite porch chair, however, he decided that looking up had been a big mistake.

"That's my chair," he grumbled, directing his gaze back to the wet grass. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, it registered that the grass had gotten unacceptably long. How do you mow twelve acres of lawn?

"Is it? Would you be willing to fight for it?"

Derek shot his visitor an irritated look of disbelief.

"No, seriously. I'm just asking. Because you don't seem to have much in your life that you're actually willing to fight for."

He ran a tired hand over his tired face and tried to take in enough of a breath to keep a rein on his temper. "Dr. Yang…"

"You know what? Don't do that. Don't 'Dr. Yang' me. You're not my boss right now, okay? Right now, you're just the asshole who keeps screwing with my friend."

His eyes widened incredulously, and he gave a little snort of disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

She dipped her chin pointedly and glared—actually glared—at him. "Look…you get that the McDreamy thing is sarcasm, right? None of us actually think you're good enough for her."

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and ran a hand through his coarse curls. "I know."

"After she drowned, when we saw you sitting in the hallway, crying like a baby, we started to think you might be good enough. Well…not good enough, but not the soul-sucking disease with which you'd previously been identified."

Derek winced, and Cristina leaned back in the lawn chair.

"After today, though, I think we're all done accepting the excuses Meredith makes for you. You're a lonely coward who cares too much about his pride to actually make an effort with the woman he claims to love."

Derek slumped down onto the front step with a groan and leaned his head back, closing his eyes to quiet the noise in his head. "You say that like you're reporting post-op conclusions."

"I'm a surgeon," Cristina snapped. "It's my job to be precise."

Derek buried his face in his hands in a vain attempt to shut Cristina out of…well, anything, really. Be it the date, or the scotch, or the sudden, unexpected, and unpleasant company, he was quickly developing a migraine. He cleared his throat painfully and decided that distance was the way to go. Meredith's friend or not, this isn't her business Our not-relationship is none of her business.

"Well, Dr. Yang—as you so eloquently pointed out—right now, I'm not your boss, and we're not at the hospital."

She sounded remarkably unimpressed. "Your point?"

"You're not a surgeon right now," he concluded tiredly.

Her cold, detached tone morphed immediately into something sharp, irate, and ugly. "First of all, I'm always a surgeon. And secondly…I'm not acting as a surgeon right now. I'm acting as Meredith's person." She expelled an angry sigh, sending her curly locks astray, and leaned forward, planting her elbows in her thighs as she studied him with obvious disgust. "Do you even care about her?"

That question immediately permeated the exhaustion. Tired or not, Derek was instantaneously offended, and it showed in the glare he sent her way when he finally found the energy to glance up. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, please," she retorted with another roll of the eyes. "You went on a date with someone else. Meredith has me—me—plowing through psych books so I can diagnose her like the shrink that I most definitely am not. She's decided to abandon tequila—a decision which I detest to the utmost degree—so that she can, and I quote, 'fix herself.' I know you two are operating under the guise of sex and mockery or whatever, but…you're a neurosurgeon, Derek. You can't honestly be stupid enough to think that Meredith actually perceives this thing between the two of you as nothing more than sexual attraction. She's working her ass off to 'get ready' for you, and you're going on dates with other women." Finally spent, Cristina leaned back in the stolen chair and shook her head incredulously before leveling Derek with one of the coldest gazes he'd ever received. "Seriously. Stop playing with her head. She deserves better than you."

Derek was getting progressively more frustrated with his spiteful visitor, but he couldn't deny that the image of a sober Meredith thumbing through psych books with Cristina left him feeling strangely warm and fuzzy inside. She's trying. She's actually trying.

Meredith's progress, however, wasn't enough to incline him towards her bitter best friend.

"Dr. Yang," he began sharply.

"Oh, please," she grumbled. "You know what? You're seriously kidding yourself if you think this conversation is headed anywhere professional."

Derek rolled his eyes skyward and began a laborious count to ten. "You know," he began tersely, "there are two sides to every story."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cristina replied with mock concern. "Did I give you the impression that I'm actually interested in hearing your side?"

Derek met her accusatory stare with an expression somewhere between offense and incredulity. "You're really not a nice person," he returned, his voice belying his surprise.

She leaned back against the chair and folded her arms expectantly. "Then I guess we have something in common."

For a brief, wonderful moment, they sat in silence, and Derek closed his eyes to revel in the sounds of nature that were suddenly apparent. Unfortunately, Cristina broke the tranquility far too soon for his headache to subside.

"You owe her more than this, you know."

She was like a predatory bird, unrelenting and doggedly persistent as she swooped in for attack after attack, each one sharper than the first. She was angry and determined and relentless, and Derek…Derek was just tired.

"I know."

"So do something about it."

He gave a short, hollow laugh. "I did."

"You did," she repeated skeptically.

He'd never had someone doubt his character quite so vocally. The fact that the skeptic was his lover's best friend was more than a little unnerving.

"I did," he repeated firmly. His head felt like lead as he tilted it to face her. "I love her, Cristina," he said plainly. "Is that really so hard to believe?"

She arched a single eyebrow and pursed her lips angrily, then glanced out over the horizon. He couldn't tell whether or not she'd even heard him.

Thankfully, his vain attempt to clear his conscience was interrupted by the sounds of another, more distinctive engine cutting off, followed by an incredulous chuckle he would've recognized anywhere.

"Um…" Meredith's shoulders shook with unspoken amusement, her eyes glittering merrily as they danced between Derek's slumped form and Cristina's rigid posture. "What're we doing?"

The corners of her mouth curled slightly as she voiced the question, and the throb at Derek's temples became a dull ache in the warmth of her unexpected smile.

On the porch, Cristina waved a hand, gesturing loosely. "McDreamy need a lecture."

Meredith arched an eyebrow expectantly in Derek's direction, an amused smile still pulling at her features. "Is that why you called me?"

Before Derek could respond, the rigid, unrelenting resident on his porch let out a gasp of surprise and—of course—annoyance.

"You called her?" she cried in disbelief.

Derek's smile of amusement mirrored Meredith's as he glanced back up at Cristina. Before, her presence had been nothing but an obvious irritation, but something about the way Meredith was smiling at him made it okay that Cristina Yang had taken up residence in his favorite lawn chair.

"I told you I was doing something about it," he responded cheekily, his indigo eyes dancing in the porch lights.

"And what are you doing, exactly?" Cristina sneered, leaning forward in a menacing fashion.

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Cristina…" she began warningly.

"What? You seriously want me to leave you here with him? Alone?"

The girls exchanged pointed looks that Derek didn't understand.

Cristina exhaled incredulously. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. He went on a date! With someone else!"

Meredith heaved a sigh. "Cristina," she repeated, pleading.

"Fine." To Derek's surprise and immediate relief, Cristina Yang stood and brushed her pants off. He smiled brightly until she directed her reproachful gaze at him. "You'd better not do anything stupid," she grumbled threateningly.

He chuckled. "Cristina, I'm an idiot, not an asshole."

Cristina rolled her eyes as she strode purposefully down the steps and stopped in front of Meredith, looking her person solemnly in the eye. "Call me if he does something stupid," she told her seriously. "Call me, and we'll lift that ban on tequila."

Meredith smiled in a way that was amused and grateful, all at once. "Cristina…go home."

Cristina rolled her eyes for the countless time and began heading towards her bike. "I'm serious!" she called over her shoulder. "Shepherd, if you fuck this up, I know where you sleep!"

Her threat was punctuated by the roar of the Harley's engine, and she was gone before either of them could respond.

"So she cornered you?" Meredith began expectantly, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing.

He looked up at her, and the world stopped.

He'd forgotten how much he loved her smile. Lately, there hadn't been much smiling, what with the dark and twisty and the break-up and the…well, the sex and mockery had incited plenty of smiles, but none of them felt anywhere near as genuine as the one with which he'd suddenly been gifted. During sex, things were less about Meredith smiling and more about Meredith being naked. Now…now, it was all about Meredith smiling, and the light in her eyes made him smile with equal sincerity.

I love you.

The thought registered and faded without voice as Meredith sat down next to him and nudged him gently with her shoulder.

"Derek…"

His smile became a full-on grin. "What?"

"Cristina?"

"Oh!" He laughed. "She did. Corner me, I mean. She's…" He coughed, torn between the desire to tread lightly and the need to find the perfect word to describe the force that was Cristina Yang. "Charming," he deadpanned finally, trusting his tone to convey what his vocabulary could not.

Meredith giggled, and the headache fizzled and died.

"Shut up," she murmured, her smile apparent in her tone. "You're one to talk, you know? You were best friends with Mark Sloan."

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the lighthearted jab. "Now he really is charming," he remarked dryly.

"A quality which hasn't exactly certainly served you well, as I remember," Meredith shot back with a smirk.

"Whatever," he mumbled delightedly, bumping her shoulder with his. "He's tolerable now."

She glanced defiantly up at him, her eyes sparkling impishly. "Cristina's tolerable."

Derek groaned at the memory of Yang's carefully crafted tongue-lashing. "I beg to differ."

They were silent for a moment, basking in the glow of the familiar banter that they'd missed during the drama of the past few months. Derek was contemplating whether or not to chance snaking an arm around Meredith's shoulders when she broke the silence.

"You never answered my question," she mused gently.

He expelled a contented sigh. "Which one?"

"Cristina," Meredith clarified again. "Was she the reason you called?"

Derek gave a short, loud laugh. "What? No. No, I called you before I even knew she was here."

"Oh."

Derek winced. Despite the fact that Meredith rambled incurably, she rarely said anything that gave him any clue as to what was going on in her head at any given moment. However, every so often, she'd expel one word that would carry with it more emotion than he would've deemed it capable of expressing. That particular "oh" had been full of resentment, rejection, and, unfortunately, the loss of the evening's lighthearted mood.

After trying for a few minutes to decipher the inspiration behind the myriad of emotions, Derek gave up and decided to risk being direct.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She heaved a labored sigh. "Nothing. It's just…" She trailed off and sat a little bit straighter, ridding her tone of anything symbolic. "So you called for other reasons, then."

"Yes," he agreed tritely. His brow furrowed as he tried desperately to read her.

She shot a quick, fake smile in his direction and stood up, brushing herself off much the same way that Cristina had. "Well, then, let's get to it."

Derek's look of intense study became a look of confusion. "What?"

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Sex and mockery, Derek. That's why you called me, right?"

His frown deepened. "Huh?"

"You know, for a brain surgeon, you're really not very articulate." She cocked her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Sex. You're horny, right? That's why you called."

His eyes widened at her implications. "What? No! No! God…Meredith…no. This wasn't a booty call." He reached over and put a hand on her leg. He tried to tell himself that he was reassuring her and not him. "I called because I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh."

There was that word again. It took every ounce of energy he had to keep his facial expression neutral as he watched her bite her lower lip.

"Meredith…"

She waved a hand dismissively as she sat back down. "No, it's fine. I'm fine. I…I get it. You had a date, and now you want to talk." She plastered on a supportive smile and turned to face him, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Well? How was it?"

Derek was very, very confused. Trying to read Meredith's mood swings was usually difficult, but after a thirty-six-hour shift and a date with the bright and shiny oncologist, it was damn near impossible. "How was what?"

"Your date." Something in her smile tightened. "How was your date?"

"Fine," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That's not…"

"It's okay," she assured him. Her tone was so painfully bright and shiny that it stabbed at his eardrums. "I…it's fine. We're friends. We're…whatever. You're dating. You're allowed to date. I'm fine."

Four sisters, Derek thought incredulously. Four sisters, and I still have no clue what she's thinking.

"You're fine?" he repeated in disbelief.

"I'm fine," Meredith concluded tersely. "Tell me about your date."

Derek stared at the ground in frustrated bewilderment. He didn't understand how the conversation had gone south so quickly.

"She wasn't you."

The words flew out unchecked and sounded bitter, even to his own ears. They sounded as though he was being spiteful.

He wasn't being spiteful. He wasn't being anything. He wasn't even tired anymore.

Beside him, Meredith pulled her knees more tightly to her chest. Her smile wavered, and she followed Derek's gaze to the ground.

"That's…good," she mumbled finally, blinking back the tears that were suddenly pricking her eyes.

Don't give up on me, she wanted to say. I'm reading books and disposing of ashes and trying really, really hard to be nice to my fake sister. I asked Cristina for psychological help. I read Susan's file to Lexie. I went trick-or-treating for ears.

She wanted so badly to say the words, but she couldn't. She couldn't say anything because she was dumbstruck by the fact that he'd been happy when she'd gotten there. He'd been happy, and someone else had been responsible for it, and now that she was here, all he seemed to be was angry.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. Just get through this. Working on things means getting through this. You didn't trick-or-treat for him. You did it for you. Because you'd never gone before. And that boy needed ears.

A snort of disbelief jerked her out of her shameful reverie.

"Good?" He laughed bitterly. "Meredith…it's not good. It's awful. It's…it's a fucking dealbreaker."

"What?" Suddenly, Meredith was the one confused.

His eyes met hers quickly, and the ugly, discontented look on his face transformed immediately into the wounded, mournful Derek look she recognized. It was the look. Their look. The McDreamy look.

She just didn't understand why he was using it now.

"She's not you," he repeated seriously, poignantly. He followed it with a smile that made his eyes sparkle, and her world stopped.

"Oh."

It was breathless and reverent and modest and full of sudden realizations.

"Oh," she repeated quietly. She seemed to be saying that word a lot this evening. "But…" she trailed off for a moment, trying to find the right words. "But you seemed happy. Earlier, I mean. In the bar. With the date."

He chuckled lightly, breaking their gaze to look out over his land.

"It should've been perfect," he admitted. "I mean, she was funny, and she was smart, and she…well, you saw her. You know she's pretty. She's an attending in the oncology department, so she understands the demands of a medical career. She's an interesting person, too. She just…" He trailed off and shrugged. "She's not you," he concluded, returning his gaze to Meredith. "And it was fun," he continued absently, "but the whole night, I kept wishing she was you."

Meredith expelled the breath she'd been holding and sought to strangle the tiny, cynical little voice that whispered "I hope this isn't going to be another wayward proposal" into the silence. She glanced up at Derek and offered him a small, modest, embarrassed smile and hoped fervently that he couldn't hear the way her heart was racing.

"So this talk," she began tentatively, hating how much she sounded like a frightened child. "It's not a bad talk?"

He smiled softly and reached for her hand, warming her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. "No, it's not a bad talk."

"You're not mad," she continued doubtfully. "About the sex and mockery, I mean. You're not mad."

"I'm not mad," he assured her. "I…I have a proposal."

At the mention of the word "proposal," Meredith's mouth twitched, and Derek used every disciplinary tactic he'd learned to keep from laughing.

"A…proposal," she repeated, her tone relaying that which her expression held at bay.

The corners of his mouth curled in amusement. "I'd like to add to the S&M arrangement."

"Add to the arrangement?" She sounded fearful.

Finally, Derek gave in to the urge and allowed himself a chuckle. "You know," he told her, eyes sparkling mischievously, "this talk will be over a lot faster if you stop repeating everything I say."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Sorry," she grunted hastily.

"Now," Derek continued gallantly. "Like, I said, I'd like to add to this arrangement. Sex and mockery is great, and I understand that it gives us time to work through things, but…I'd like to propose that we embellish it a little."

Silence.

"With conversation," he clarified when she didn't immediately respond.

"Not to break the rules or anything," Meredith retorted sarcastically, "but…conversation?"

"Yes," Derek nodded, trying in vain to hide his smile. "Conversation. You know…the thing where two people talk to each other."

"About what?" Meredith muttered doubtfully.

"Anything," Derek shrugged. "Everything. Sex. Surgeries. Fake sisters. Unwanted landmates. The moments of our lives."

Meredith arched an eyebrow skeptically. "You know you sound like a bad soap opera, right?"

He rolled his eyes skyward and nudged her playfully. "Seriously, Mer. I want us to start talking to each other again. I miss that."

"The way I remember it, we never really did very much talking," Meredith pointed out.

"We flirted," Derek countered. "That's talking."

"That's foreplay," Meredith volleyed dryly.

"And I'm not complaining about the foreplay," Derek replied with a small smirk. "More foreplay, I say. I just...remember when I said that I wanted you to know me?"

Meredith sucked in a deep, exasperated breath and nodded.

"I still want that," Derek all but whispered. "I want to know you, too. I want you to be the girl I take out for drinks and conversation."

"You want to date," Meredith leveled with a warning glint in her eyes.

Derek knew that look. That look meant resistance. That look meant that she was getting ready to pick up and run.

"I want sex and mockery," he returned firmly. "I just want conversation when the sex and mockery is done."

She continued to look skeptical. He sucked in a breath.

"Look…think of it as a graduation. We're going from 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' to 'wham, bam, thanks and…by the way, how was your day?'."

The skeptical façade cracked when she started to giggle, and he knew he'd done something right.

"You want us to talk after sex?" she repeated in amused incredulity.

"Not after sex," he grinned. "Between rounds. We both know I'm unstoppable."

Her giggle became a full-out laugh. "You want to talk after sex! Next thing I know, you're going to want to cuddle or something."

"Hey!" he cried in mock protest. "Cuddling is fun!"

She rolled her eyes, but the smile remained firmly intact, and he knew he'd achieved a small victory.

"You are such a woman."

"Careful, Grey," he warned. "I have no qualms about taking you into the trailer and debating the merits of that statement…naked."

"You're instigating sex," she murmured, eyes twinkling.

"It's only fair!" he argued delightedly. "You instigated mockery!"

"You," she chuckled, "are incorrigible."

"Unstoppable," Derek corrected with a wry grin.

"Whatever," Meredith laughed. "Shut up."

"Now you're telling me to shut up? Abuse!"

"Seriously, Derek," she grinned. "Get in the trailer and take your clothes off."

"Gladly," he agreed, "but first…"

He trailed off and grabbed both side of her face, kissing her forcefully. He massaged her lips with the longing he'd felt all evening, and she responded in kind, briefly brushing her tongue with his. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless.

And then, in a flash, she was gone, and he was left staring incredulously at his massive front lawn.

"Meredith?" he called, turning slowly to face the trailer's open door. "What…?"

"Last one with clothes on has to instigate conversation!" she hollered gleefully.

She said it with such mirth that anyone else would've mistaken it as another joke, another line in the endless script of banter, but he knew what a big step she was offering to make.

His grin broadened exponentially as he slid his sweater over his head and slammed the trailer door. "You're on."