Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of ABC and Shonda Rhimes. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.
All it took was a slip, an incorrect angle, and a sickening crack to compromise the great Dr. Mark Sloan.
And now, as he lays incapacitated in the foreign, uncomfortable bed, he can't help but sulk in self-pity and see how far he's fallen. The physical pain was unimaginable; even the horror stories about penile fractures couldn't describe it enough. Of course, he's on enough painkillers that he can't feel a thing, but the mere thought of what happened in that on-call room is enough to make him cringe very hard.
The blow to his ego, though? Definitely worse. Much worse.
The humiliation is undeniably the worst part of this whole mess. He can't stand to be seen weak and vulnerable like this, especially by the very woman who caused the injury in the first place. He doesn't blame her, though. It was a freak accident that was probably somewhat karmic in nature.
But, of course, insult must be added to injury at all costs. Lexie opens the door and steps into the room, beholding him in all of his slightly druggy and broken glory. He feels his stomach turn, hating this moment when she's seeing him in this sad and indisposed condition. He can't stand it so much that his skin crawls.
"Hey," she says in a small, guilty voice.
"Please," he groans, "go away." Her dark eyes flash at him as she pushes the door closed.
"No," she answers. Simple and firm. He can see that your earlier success at keeping her away isn't going to continue.
"Little Grey," he pleads. She pulls the blinds shut and gives a tiny sigh.
"It's not Little Grey, it's Lexie." It's obvious even through his haze that she's wanted to say that for a while now. She approaches him, and he wants to fold into himself. "And, I'm sorry that I…I broke…" She struggles with the next word in that way he's grown increasingly fond of. "I'm sorry that I hurt you."
He closes his eyes, trying to find some way to disappear completely. Some way to vanish into thin air. She notices this, apparently, and continues in an apologetic tone. "And I'm sorry that you're humiliated. But…" She shrugs, arms akimbo. "I'm not going anywhere. I've got a friend who is guarding the door, a good friend, and since no one is going to be coming in, I'm…I'm now going to climb into bed with you and I'm gonna stroke your hair."
He feels his face turn into an expression of half-incredulity, half-terror. She doesn't allow him a second to think. "Because that's what I like to have done for me when I'm hurt," she finishes her explanation.
For a second, he thinks she's kidding. But only for a second. Because after that second passes, she really is resting beside him in that bed that's just a bit too small to hold two people. Her fingers are already stroking patterns in his hair.
He really wants to push her away. This is the last thing he wants or needs right now. But he can't find the words to say or the guts to do it. So, he tenses,
After a minute or two of her cuddling, his thoughts wander to Addison and what she would have done in this situation. She was a caring woman, a nurturer. Still, Mark can't picture her doing anything like this for him. Mark's muddled mind forms a scene in which Addison breaks his penis and gets angry at him for it.
Okay, so it probably wouldn't happen exactly like that. Still, no matter how she felt for him or how he felt for her, she always treated him like the bad guy. She always acted as though he was not to be trusted. If she didn't believe that, why couldn't she stay with him? He had been willing to change, but she couldn't allow him the time to do so.
Then there was Callie. If Callie broke Big Sloan, she probably would have made sure he was alright, be concerned for a while, laughed about it, and asked him when he'd be up and running again. That would be the extent of her reaction. Callie was one of Mark's best friends, he can't deny that. But it stung just a little bit that she had used him more than once: first to get her thoughts away from George, and then for her sexuality experiment. Mark had gone along with both situations willingly, but it was hard to get over being a lab rat vibrator.
Besides, Mark can't picture Callie climbing into bed to comfort him like Lexie is right now. The debacle of Erica "seeing leaves" indicated that Callie handles the mushy stuff about as well as him.
So, he concludes as Lexie's fingernails gently scratch his scalp in a way that feels kind of good, this is very different than anything he's experienced before. For some reason, he feels like his mother might have done this for him only once or twice a very long time ago.
It takes a few more minutes for him to truly relax. Lexie's right hand is still petting him gently, occasionally moving from his hair to caress his cheek or forehead. The fingers of her left hand are laced loosely in his. Her cheek is pressed against his face, soft and very warm.
He decides that, even though his pride is basically demolished, this isn't all that bad.
In fact, it's really nice.
It doesn't take much longer before he's dancing the line between lucidity and a deep sleep, perched precariously on the edge of consciousness. The combination of the drugs, Lexie's repetitive stroking, and her warm weight on his body is pushing him over that edge.
He wants to thank her and to apologize for trying to keep her away. But his vocal capacity is shot, succumbing to the drowsiness that's come over his whole body. All he can get out is, "Lexie." His voice is quiet and gravelly as he tries out her name.
She hushes him, gently squeezing his larger hand in hers. She huddles closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He inhales, taking in the fruity scent of her shampoo. He drifts off, then, as comfortable and warm as he ever was.
Lexie Grey is nothing that he's used to yet. He hasn't completely figured her out. She's just plain different.
Maybe different is what he's needed all this time.