Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.
Simple gestures – a slight groan as she huddles against him, a gentle kiss pressed by him against her lips – make for their simple morning routine. Sunlight washes over them from the tiny crack in the curtains, illuminating their bodies twisted underneath the sheets of the paradoxically comfortable hotel bed.
Mark is, as always, the first one to untangle himself and rise up, leaving Lexie to doze for a few more blissful moments while he washes his face and brushes his teeth. This is what's happened every other morning for weeks now, the mornings after the nights when Lexie doesn't stay at Meredith's.
He returns from the bathroom, toweling off his face. Lexie is semi-awake and sitting up. One of her arms is extended in a luxurious stretch, and the other hand is sleepily rubbing at her half-lidded eyes. Mark chuckles under his breath. She's really a sight in the mornings; her hair is a mess, hanging in clumps in front of her eyes and tucked behind her ears.
She's dressed in Mark's jogging hoodie – I heart NY – and his green athletic shorts. She's basically swimming in the outfit. The sleeves of the ratty gray sweatshirt make her hands disappear completely and the shorts fall to well below her knees. Whatever makes her comfortable, he guesses. Besides, he likes to see her in his clothes. They look good on her, like somehow accentuating her innocence (she does kind of look like a little kid in the oversized apparel). It used to make him feel a bit creepy, but not so much anymore.
"Good morning," he says, smiling charmingly.
"Mm," she groans. "Good morning." The reply is half-yawned and lazy as she pulls herself to a sitting position, knees tucked into her chest. She can't help but wake totally when her bleary vision finally clears and she sees him standing there, wearing nothing but boxers. She blushes slightly, allowing herself to gaze at his body. It still hasn't been six weeks since The Incident (they don't dare to address it at anything else, when they address it at all). Big Sloan still isn't running and definitely isn't ready to be up yet.
These "sleepovers" at Mark's hotel room are now just that, filled with actual sleeping and crappy movies and room service popcorn. Not since high school – or, in Mark's case, well before – has the term carried this nonsexual definition. Neither of them really minds, though. Lexie doesn't want to cause another penile fracture, and Mark has slowly discovered that it's nice to sleep with someone instead of sleeping with them.
But, even if she can't have or touch, she can still look.
Mark can tell that she's checking him out in all of his scantily-clad glory (the detection ability comes with experience), her dark eyes on fire with admiration. So, he grins and throws the towel at her, earning a sufficient yelp of surprise.
"You," she says smugly, chucking it back at him and missing wide right, "are a jerk."
"And you," he replies over his shoulder, pulling clothes out of his drawer, "are going to be late for rounds. You'd better hurry up and get out of here." That steamy smile crosses his lips as he points at the lock. She follows his gesture and groans exaggeratedly, pulling the pillow from behind her and burying her face in it.
After a moment, she sighs. "Oh well." She shrugs, pulling her hair into a haphazard bun. She always turns out to be late after their sleepovers. "I'll be a few minutes behind."
Mark scoffs, not buying it. He's quickly learned what a total perfectionist she is. He says nothing. She yawns widely again, smiling sleepily as she clutches her pillow to her chest. "Besides," she continues, "There's something I kind of wanted to talk to you about." The words come out suddenly hesitant and sheepish. "And it's important, at least it is to me, so I'd like you to really listen, okay?" She bites her lower lip, eyes instantly going into puppy-dog mode.
Damn, again with the cute, Mark thinks, knowing that the next words out of her mouth might start a conversation that he doesn't want to have.
"Go ahead," he tells her distractedly, stepping into a pair of jeans and pulling them up.
"Okay. Um." She swallows, concentrating very hard on choosing the right words. "I'd really like us to go public about this. About us," she explains, adding the last part hurriedly. "I mean, I know you have your reservations about this. And for good reason, bros before hoes, I know." She laughs lamely at her own joke: a very awkward defense mechanism. She clears her throat to get focused again. "But, even though a couple people already know, I sometimes feel like…like your dirty little secret or something." She takes a deep, shuddering breath, having used a lot of courage and sincerity too early in the morning.
Not bothering to butting or zip his pants, Mark sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, looking sympathetically into Lexie's entreating eyes. "I'm sorry you feel like that, Lex." She fights back a smile at the nickname. She loves the way he says it. "I don't mean to make it come across like that. What we have going here is a good thing-"
A wonderful thing, a quiet but stubborn voice in the back of his mind adds.
"-but I just can't come clean about it. Not yet, at least. I can't tell Derek yet."
"But do you really think he'll care that much?" She narrows her eyes, looking at him hopefully. "Just because he's dating my half-sister doesn't give him the right to say who I can and can't have a relationship with. You and I…we're both adults and everything, and everything we've done has been, um, consensual." She cringes at how bad that just sounded.
"But that's the thing," Mark half-exclaims, the words filled with exasperation. Not at her, but at his whole situation in general. "It's not even about you anymore. It's about his ability to trust me. He specifically told me not to go after you, and what did I do? I went after you." He pauses, thinking about this for a second. "Well, technically, you seduced me with your striptease and semi-dirty talk, but that's beside the point." He can't help but smirk a second before reverting to seriousness. "The point is that I deliberately betrayed him. I went against his wishes and got involved with you."
Lexie moves closer to him, touching his shoulder gently. "It would be better if he heard it straight from you rather than finding out on his own," she offers. "I'm sure he'll forgive you."
Mark rolls his eyes and snorts at the hilarity of her statement. "Yeah, he'll forgive me. Eventually," he sneers. "I don't know if I can take another eventually after last time."
This time it's her turn to scoff. "If he could forgive you for sleeping with his wife, he can forgive you for sleeping with me." She gasps and clasps her hand firmly to her mouth, eyes instantly widening. That was meant for her mind, not her mouth. Mark's head whips around to stare at her incredulously, mouth slightly agape, bewildered that she would say something like that. "Um, uh, it's kind of common knowledge around the hospital, sorry," she stammers squeakily, the apology muffled by her hand.
He shakes his head at her, brown furrowing. "You don't even know the half of it," he says gravely, locking eyes with her. She shrinks a bit wincing, and part of him wishes that the words hadn't come out so harshly. But only a part.
But Lexie couldn't have picked a worse time to bring this up, to drag out these skeletons. She's reminded him of why today, which was off to a great start, just plain sucks. Today sucks because Addison Montgomery just can't leave well enough alone. She just has to come back just when he's managing to find real happiness with another woman. Sure, she's only coming because of her sick brother (who is still a prick), but definitely will still be torture.
Mark exhales harshly through his nostrils, turning away form Lexie, burying his face in his hands. He's almost sickened for an instant when he considers that she might have already arrived at Seattle Grace Hospital. She might be walking the halls and maybe, by some incredibly cruel twist of fate, she might be standing in the exact spot on those stairs where, almost a year ago, he forced himself to let her go at the cost of a great part of his own heart.
Lexie kneels behind him on the mattress and wraps her arms around his bare waist from behind, in another hair-stroking-esque comforting gesture. Mark doesn't know what to do, either to pull away or to lean into her. She rests her cheek on the back of his neck, and his skin is hot with stress. She's heartbroken to see what she's caused. This is new. She's never seen him like this.
"Mark, I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean anything, I was just…" The sentence dies prematurely on her lips. "You can talk to me if you want. But only if you want. I'll understand if you don't." She holds him firmly, doing her best to transmit support, like her mother used to for her.
Mark laughs bitterly, running his hands through his hair before returning them to his face. He can't get past Addison. He'll always care for Addison. That can never and will never change. But things also can never and will never go back to the way they used to be.
He really wants to tell Lexie this. He can't keep it hidden for much longer if he wants this relationship to become something more, for it to really mean something. He feels like there's something in her that he can trust with this information.
"If I tell you this," he murmurs cautiously, "you have to promise that you won't run for the hills. You have to promise that you won't because that's the last thing I need." This is the most he's bared his soul in a long time.
Lexie is slightly discomforted by this, but she has to do it. He feels her nod against his neck, hears her whisper, "I promise."
He braces himself against all of those terrible feelings in the pit of his stomach as he speaks, each word clear and distinct.
"I loved her."