Author's note: Title taken from Philipp Poisel, Wo fängt dein Himmel an.
I.
The haze is drowning her. No, she's on fire, she's sweating, she's dripping. God help her, this is not happening.
She doesn't know which way up or down. He's intoxicating her every nerve, and she needs him closer, give it all up, take all he has.
She's craved this feeling for so long, it splits her open and rips her into a million pieces. And every piece aches to get hold of a part of him, something real, and keep it.
Floating into him is easy. As if love is enough. The truth is, it's always been inevitable. Nothing's changed.
II.
She's drifting awake to warmth and safety. Stretching, she snuggles further against the body that's entangled with hers. His steady breathing tickles her skin.
Oh god, she's spooning with Mark Sloan.
It's enough to flood her with desire all over again. What is insane, because they've done it, about six, seven times, probably ruining some Archfield furniture, and she's definitely sore.
What is scary, because nothing has changed. He's still pushy, and she's not ready. They don't work.
Her stomach flips, the unshed tears sting, and she turns over into his chest and embraces him as tightly as she can.
III.
Breakfast is waiting. There's a cautious smile on his face, as if he's not sure whether she'll stay or storm off.
She doesn't know either. Her feet know, though, and she sits down on his lap, straight in a wet towel, and reaches over for her cup, as if that's the most natural of morning routines. The coffee's already poured, which kind of proves it.
They should talk. She's a great talker. And she hates secrets.
But she wants to make this last as long as possible, and so she straddles him instead. His smile is no longer tentative anyway.
IV.
He's sitting with the attendings, so she just smiles and passes him by. She'd rather kissed him, though. She'd better hurry with lunch, because this time, she'll page him.
Her smile must look suspicious, because everyone's staring at her.
"So, are you back together with Sloan?" Jackson spills immediately.
Oh dear. "I don't know," she says as nonchalantly as she can muster. "We still want different things." She sets down her tray. "And I'm still in love with him." There. She said it.
Jackson looks away. Alex nods. Meredith smiles. April rolls her eyes.
This sandwich tastes great. Just hurry.
V.
Oh god, the way he cradles her. She's losing her mind, she knows it. This is going to hurt like hell. She blinks a few times, but she knows it's in vain.
"Lexie," he says. "What's wrong?"
She shakes her head, for she needs one more kiss. No-one will ever compare to him.
"I love you," she says, "and I wish this were enough to make us work."
"Alright," he says at once, throwing off the covers, "new rule. Let's get dressed and talk."
And her heart stops as it sinks in that this is what he's been waiting for.