-1Shock and Awe

"I need to get laid."

The words had slipped past Meredith Grey's strawberry glossed lips before she could stop them. No matter. Most of the Sunday football crowd had left, half exalting the triumph of their team, half sulking over a loss. Only a hand full of regulars were left, most of which were busy discussing the game, and her twin dickheads. She had known the dickheads since her freshman, and only, year of college. The pair were use to her some times crude outbursts.

Dickhead one, better known to the world as Mark Sloan, twisted her long, honey blonde ponytail around his wrist. The front of his body pressed against her back, shoving her small form forward. She gripped the edge of the bar, heart pounding, panties dampening when his mouth hovered near her ear. "Please don't do anything stupid," he whispered. She twisted her head around, scowling. He winked one smoky blue eye before moving away from her.

"What he's trying to say, and not very well," Dickhead two, aka Derek Shepherd, said from his perch at the other end of the bar, "is that you don't just get laid. You let all your girly hormones get mixed in with your over zealous emotions. Your one night stands always become a mockery of a relationship with a loser who isn't good enough for you. Which puts Mark and I in a really difficult position."

Curving the slender fingers of one hand around the middle of a half full bottle of tequila and reaching for a shot glass with the other, Meredith rolled her eyes. "Okay, first of all, I don't let my emotions become involved when I'm having sex." A scowl darkens her face when both men laugh. "Shut up. I don't. And secondly, I have never asked either one of you to run a boyfriend off, thank you very much."

"'Oh Mark, I can't get Jason to leave me alone. He's stalking me.'" There was no mistaking the high pitched whine in Mark's voice. It was to similar to the one she used when things were not going her way. Balling up her tiny fist, Meredith rears her arm back, socking him in the gut. Her knuckles connected with solid washboard abs. To her dismay, and disgust, Mark did little more than chuckle. "

"Let's not forget this one… 'But Derek…he won't stop calling me. Why won't he stop calling me?' Or…my personal favorite… 'Why does this always happen to me?'" If it was possible Derek's version of her whine was more effective than Mark's. It was hideous. A lesser woman would have been embarrassed. Meredith wasn't other women though. Oh no, she was Meredith and she could take a few barbs from well meaning friends. Especially when said friends were both sexy as hell. Derek with his black waves and piercing blue gaze. Mark with his sun kissed locks and smoky blue eyes. To bad their off limits, she thought. Both men were definitely her type. Or would have been if they weren't her friends…her Dickheads.

"I'm not that bad," Meredith defended. She lifted the brimming shot glass to slightly parted lips. Bracing herself, she tilts her head back, letting the hot liquid glide down her throat. It burned like fire, settling between her legs in a delicious pool of heat. What she wouldn't give for a different sort of heat to burn that same spot. Six months was entirely to long to go without hot, sweaty sex.

"You are that bad," Derek assured her. He closed one crystalline blue eye in a slow wink that sent a wave of butterflies prancing through her stomach. His lean body slid from the bar, his feet hitting the ground with a soft thump. Her belly did another somersault as he drew closer, the musky scent of his cologne assailing her gently flaring nostrils. "You are a bad girl, Mere, and you know it." He stopped an inch from her, the hard planes of his body fitting almost perfectly with her soft curves.

"A very hot bad girl," Mark whispered, pressing his body against her back once more. Moisture, hot and needy, gathered in the apex of her thighs. Her body throbbed with need. "Do you know what happens to hot bad girls?" Her heart drummed triple time, her breathing quickening to little pants as his large hands settled on her hips, drawing her closer. She couldn't resist wiggling herself closer still, a smirk tilting her lips when she felt the hard length of his cock.

"Why don't you tell me," Meredith purred. She knew the game they were playing. It was something they played often. A testing of how far they were each willing to go. She lifted her left foot, letting the Zebra print ballet flat she had worn fall to the floor, rubbed her foot up the front of Derek's leg. Her body fell back against Mark's as her foot slid higher, higher still, her toes stopping within inches of the bulge in Derek's pants.

"They get cooled off," Derek said softly. It was then that she noticed the glass of water in his hand. Iced water. Her green eyes widen, her mouth opens in silent no. She lunged to the left, not quick enough, frigid water coating the front of her.

"You mother fucker," Meredith hissed. Her fingers plucked at the damp material of her white fitted t shirt. The peach silk of her bra shown through, as did the hard pebbles her nipples had become. She reached for the hem of the soaked top, gripped it in her fists. She arched her back slowly towards Mark, dragging the sodden material over her head. She could feel Derek's hot gaze riveted on the swell of her breasts. Letting the shirt dangle from her finger tips, she moved towards him, brushing her damp breasts across his shirt. Puckering her lips she blew him a kiss before turning to Mark. "Here, traitor, you can have this dried."

Mark's hand flashed out to grab the bit of wet cotton before it hit the some what sticky floor. "I'm a traitor?"

Meredith nods. "Mmhm." Goose pimples pricked her flesh as a blast of cold air gushed out of the vent above her. "You let Dick head number two throw water on me." She shivered, rubbing her bare arms. There was an extra shirt in the office that she kept in case of emergency. If this didn't constitute as an emergency she didn't know what did.

"When are you going to stop calling us Dickhead One and Dickhead two?" Derek asked. Somehow, without her noticing, he had removed the pale yellow button up shirt he had worn. He draped it around her shoulders, his hands lingering a bit longer than necessary. She raised her chin, daring him to slide his hands lower. He wanted to. She could see it in his eyes. He wouldn't though. Derek was nothing, if not a gentleman.

"When you stop acting like dickheads." Meredith answered. She snuggled into the still warm shirt, tying the tails at her mid-drift. "Seriously. You two need to grow up."

"And you need to get laid," Mark teased. The man had no idea how right he was. She needed to get laid. She needed for some man…any man…to spread her legs and shove his cock, preferably a long, thick one, inside her wet and willing cunt. Oh yes, that is was she needed.

She can't help but let her gaze drop the hardness swelling the front of Mark's pants. He would be a fantastic lover. Correction. He was a fantastic lover. Not that she had any first hand experience, but women talked. Mark's women talked. And they all purred like kittens when it came to dishing out the goods on her best pal. Of course, Derek's women did almost the exact same thing. The few women he brought around, at any rate.

"More than you know," Meredith sighed. God, she really did need to get fucked if she was having crazy cock thoughts about the Dickheads. It was one thing to play around, to engage them in sexual banter and a few innuendos. It was another thing to think about the size of their cocks and wonder if the rumors about their love making skills were true.

"You know, we could help you out in that department," Mark wiggled his eyebrows. A lump formed in Meredith's throat. He was only kidding. She knew that. She almost wished he wasn't.

"You're insane." Derek shook his head. A dark lock fell across his brow. The fingers he lifted to brush it aside shook a bit. "He doesn't mean it Mere. Ignore him."

Meredith wanted nothing better than to ignore him. She couldn't though. Not with her mind conjuring up images of Mark, then Derek, thrusting himself into her. It was sick, this new fixation she had on her friends. "I usually do. Ignore him that is." The words didn't come out as flippant as she had hoped.

Mark stared at her for a moment. An understanding came into his blue-gray eyes. "It's not insane if you think about it. We know her. We know what she likes. What she doesn't like." True. Very true. She had bitched on more than one occasion about some loser who hadn't pushed the right buttons. "Who better to scratch her itch."

"You're forgetting one thing…she gets attached." Derek ground out from between gritted teeth. His whole body was tense. Meredith could almost feel his muscles coiling up.

"Which is why she won't know which one of us it is," Mark said proudly. He crossed his arms over the dark gray t-shirt he wore. The thin cotton material practically strained over his muscles.

"Now I know you've really lost it. This is Meredith we're talking about here, Mark. Meredith." Derek shook his head again. Disgust was written across his face.

"Are you saying you've never thought about me in that way?" Meredith cocked her head to one side. "Because I've thought it. I've thought about what it would be like to feel your naked body pressed against mine." She couldn't resist. She lifted one hand, splaying it across her breasts. She trailed one finger into the valley of her cleavage.

"You have?" Derek stared at her. She nodded, dipping her finger lower. "You've thought about…us…you and me…like…that?"

"Mmhm. I've thought about it. About us. I've thought about…" She looked to Mark, smirking, "us as well. The problem is…I can't ever make up my mind which one of you I would rather get naked with the most." Her heart started pounding in earnest. She was crossing a line, one that she wouldn't be able cross back over. It should have scared her. It didn't. She trusted these two men more than she had ever trusted anyone in her entire twenty-six years.

"I think we're more than capable of making it up for you," Mark murmured.. "How about you leave the door unlocked tonight? Maybe forget to put anything on after your shower?"

"This isn't funny anymore, Mark," Derek bit out. It if was at all possible his body had tensed up even more. "We're friends. You. Me. Meredith. We don't need to screw that up by…just stop, okay?"

Meredith laid a hand on Derek's rigid forearm. "Relax. Nobody going to mess our friendship up. Mark and I will stop teasing. Right?" She glanced over her shoulder, imploring Mark to agree. It took a moment but the other man finally grunted his consensus on the matter. "There. See. We're done joking around. Now, if you two don't mind, I'm going to find something that is dry, and fits."

She hurried through the swinging door that led to the stock room behind the bar. She didn't stop until she reached the small office at the back. There she found the extra shirt. Her hands shook as she replaced Derek's shirt with the black fitted t shirt that had a white Playboy Bunny emblazed across the front of it. She tugged it on, then took a few minutes to compose herself. Derek had been right. It was one thing to joke about screwing each other, it was another to act on it.

"I really need to just go out, find some stranger, and fuck them till I am blue in the face," Meredith muttered, exiting the office. The ache between her legs was starting to cloud her judgment. Derek and Mark? Celibacy was doing ugly things to her. She lifted her hand to push the swinging door open. Instead of wood her palm came in contact with a thick envelope. Frowning, she tugged it free of the tack holding it to the door. A note written in undistinguishable block letters and a black bandana were inside. "Leave the door unlocked. Wear nothing but this."

A smile curved her lips. So, she wasn't the only one who wanted to cross the line…