chaptered fic; between me and you (01: the first time)
pairing: aizawa kosaku/shiraishi megumi
word count: 2567 words
note: season 3 timeline, but probably following none (or very little) of canon events. I know where I want to take this and it's probably not what the Code Blue writers want, haha. I planned for a one-shot, but it was getting away from me, so I split it up. I don't plan for this to be long, but let's see where this takes me. More notes at the end. This is too mild to be rated M (for now), but things do get heated, so be forewarned.

The first time was an accident, he thought. Probably.

They had a long, harrowing day in Emergency, one of those days where they lost more people than they could save. No matter how many years it had been, no matter how experienced they were or how accustomed they should be in facing death, it was never easy. Hopping in and out of the Heli numerous times, to have patients die on site, en route, or in the emergency room, it took a toll on all of them, and they were all exhausted, drained and admittedly just a little emotional at the end of the day.

Aizawa was happy just to go home and collapsed onto his bed, before it all starts again in approximately eight hours. But somehow, he found himself dragged to Mary Jane's bar by Fujikawa, with Shiraishi and Hiyama in tow.

Before long, the lightweight among them, Shiraishi, was drunk. The other two doctors, having to take the nightshift in three hours, remained sober. And he, of course he wasn't drunk. It would take a lot, both alcohol and emotions, to get him drunk.

But as Fujikawa and Hiyama headed back to Shohoku for their nightshift, he found himself alone with a very drunk and very friendly Shiraishi. He contemplated just putting her into a taxi, and giving the driver her address, but then he found himself getting into the taxi with her, and helping her into her apartment, with her giggling incoherently and draping herself all over him at certain points.

It was all very disconcerting.

"Let's drink some more!" She cheered as he got the door opened, slamming it shut behind him. He rolled his eyes, grabbing her arm to steady her as she nearly tripped over her own feet. She burst into giggles, regaining her balance and poking her finger into his cheek.

"Thank you, Aizawa-sensei, you're sooooo nice…I'll reward you with sake…it's in the kitchen…" she lurched towards the kitchen, but he kept his iron grip on her upper arm and steered her towards what he thought should be her bedroom.

"No, wait, where are you going? There's no sake there! It's…"

"No sake. You're not going to drink anymore, if I can help it," he muttered.

He managed to get her to her bedroom, and sat her down on her bed carefully, where she promptly fell over, still laughing to herself. Fleetingly, he contemplated taking off her coat, but decided against it, instead moving to put her bag on her dresser, placing her keys next to it.

He didn't exactly know what compelled him to look for a towel and wet it with hot water, but he did just exactly that. When he emerged from the bathroom with towel in hand, she was lying down, eyes closed, seemingly asleep. Sighing, he sat down gingerly at the edge of her bed and placed the towel on her forehead. Just as he did, her hand shot up, and caught his. Naturally, his first instinct was to pull away, but then he saw a tear escaping from beneath her eyelids.

"They were children…" she slurred, curling his fingers around his wrist. "Three of them…they were four, six and nine…I couldn't save them…not even one…"

He still remembered. It was the first case of the day; three children and their mother crushed by falling debris from a construction. They had only managed to save the mother, who was now currently lying in Intensive Care Unit, her condition critical.

She gave a shaky laugh, as another tear slid down her cheek. "Aizawa…why doesn't it ever get easier? After all these years, I still cannot do what Kuroda-sensei told me to do from day one – keep my emotions, my feelings, separate. Steel myself. Compartmentalise myself. But it's still so hard." She opened her eyes then, and her gaze rested on his. "How do you do it?"

Aizawa looked at her, unable to say anything. Her tears were unnerving him, they always had. He hated seeing her cry. Mostly because he knew there was nothing he could do to make her feel better. He wasn't the sort that could say the right words. More often than not, he ended saying the wrong ones.

He momentarily flashbacked to that one time where Shiraishi had completely lost her composure in the train, after the train station collapse. He didn't know what to do either; the only thing he was able to do was to stand in front of her, blocking curious, prying eyes from her pain and despair.

Instead, he gently extracted her hand from his, and dabbed her forehead with the hot towel. "You should sleep," he said, his voice measured.

She laughed, and it was no longer giddy and giggly, it sounded sad. Defeated. "I should, but I know I won't be able to."

He sighed. "Shiraishi…"

He felt her fingers grasping his forearm, as she pushed herself up to his eye level. Her hair was dishevelled, her cheeks were flushed but her eyes were surprisingly clear for someone who had so much to drink.

She was beautiful.

But he knew that all along.

And this was dangerous territory. Extremely dangerous territory.

He felt his escape mechanism kicking into place, as he removed his hand from her forehead, ready to take flight, but she closed the gap between their faces, and pressed her mouth against his.

Her lips were soft, tinged with alcohol and the salt of her tears. It wasn't a shy, hesitant kiss; it wasn't something he'd expect from Shiraishi. It was almost aggressive the way she melded her lips to his, nibbling and nipping as her other hand came up to grip his other arm, moving closer to him.

If he was honest to himself, he had thought of this before, perhaps even thought of it often. They had been dancing around each other for so long, over the years.

Therefore, the only natural thing to do was to kiss her back.

His lips slanted over hers as he moved his hands up her back, pulling her against his chest, and her hands slid up his arms to the nape of his neck. She opened her mouth to him, and his tongue slipped into the sweet caverns of her mouth.

She tasted like sake, like honey, like rainwater and autumn wind, she tasted like Shiraishi, and when her tongue met his, battling his in a possessive, un-Shiraishi-like way, he could feel the vestiges of his self-control slipping further. He couldn't remember the last time he had a kiss that made him feel like this, made him feel like he could lose control any given moment.

Shiraishi shifted herself, so that she was almost sitting on his lap, never lifting her lips from his as she continued exploring his mouth, licking and nibbling and sucking on his tongue. She tugged at his jacket, pulling it off, and just as quickly, he removed her coat, tossing it aside.

His hands slipped under her blouse, his fingers stroking the smooth, bare skin of her waist, as she busied herself with the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning one, and then the other, resting her hand on his chest as she kissed him.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, his inner voice was yelling at him. She was drunk, she was upset, and he was essentially taking advantage of her. That thought stopped him dead in his tracks, stifling his passion.

He would never take advantage of her.

"Shiraishi," he murmured against her lips, and then he tore away from her reluctantly, and stilled her wandering hands, pushing her away from him. "Shiraishi, stop."

She stared at him, her lips swollen from his kisses, and it was all he could do not to grab her, and take her mouth with his again.

"You're drunk," he said, matter-of-factly. "You don't want this."

She pushed back her bangs with one hand. "Maybe I'm drunk," she acknowledged. "But I'm not drunk enough to not know what I'm doing."

He shook his head, he wasn't convinced. His best move now was still to leave, and maybe it would be awkward tomorrow, but they'd managed it, at least, he knew that he would be able to. He wasn't quite sure how he would handle never kissing her again, but impossible was never a word in his vocabulary after all. He'd managed. Somehow.

"I should go," he said, pushing himself into a standing position, picking up his jacket from the floor. "And you should…"

"Aizawa," she interrupted him, standing up as well, swaying a little, teetering off balance. Instinctively, he reached out to grip her arm, steadying her. Their eyes met, and even before she spoke, he knew that it was futile, he wouldn't be able to leave her now. "Stay with me."

Shiraishi stepped closer and threaded her fingers through his hair, closing her eyes. And then she kissed him, and it had nothing of the urgency and passion of just now, it was slow and tender.

As their passion built, his jacket again dropped onto the floor, and she finished unbuttoning his shirt. As his shirt slid off his shoulders, he pushed her back towards the bed, and they fell into bed together, still kissing. His hand caressed the smooth skin of her stomach, inching up her ribcage towards her breasts, and he lifted his lips from hers, looking at her. He just had to ask, one more time.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

By the way of a reply, she tugged his head towards hers, and kissed him hard.

Both the alarms on their phones went off simultaneously.

Aizawa jolted awake at the alternating shrill ringing and monotonous beeping sounds, while Shiraishi groaned a little and pulled her covers over her head. Hazily, he groped around the floor, finally locating his jacket, pulling out his phone and turning off his alarm.

Her phone was still going off, however, the beeping escalating obnoxiously. He looked around for her coat, praying her phone was in there, for his head was about to explode from the beeping. He spotted her coat from the floor, where it was lying in a heap next to his jeans. Grabbing it, he rifled through the pocket, and to his relief, found her phone, and he switched it off.

The sudden silence that permeated the room was slightly perturbing, especially Shiraishi was still huddled under her covers.

He supposed he should maybe start getting dressed, and then maybe head to work. But he couldn't leave without speaking to her, and he'd be damned if he left her a note.

Quickly, Aizawa pulled on his jeans and slipped on his shirt, buttoning it. Combing his fingers deftly through his hair, he glanced at the lump that was Shiraishi, and sighed to himself. He rested his hand on her shoulder, and shook her gently.

"Shiraishi."

"Five more minutes, Hiyama," she mumbled, swatting his hand away.

"Shiraishi," he repeated, his voice firm. "Wake up."

He saw her shoulders stiffened as his voice permeated into her sleep-addled brain, as she processed the fact that the person shaking her at that moment was not Hiyama. With a gasp, she turned around, and sat up straight, her eyes landing on his face, her blankets slipping off her body.

It didn't help to make things easier when his eyes involuntarily slid towards her very naked torso. She gave an embarrassed squeak, and scrambled for her blankets. He was proud that he managed to keep his face fairly impassive.

She tightened the blankets around herself and averted her eyes. "Uhhhh…good morning."

"Morning," he returned.

"Urm, would you like some coffee?" She attempted weakly.

He shook his head, and then decided to just plunge right in. "Shiraishi, about last night...I'm…well. I apologise. You clearly weren't in the right frame of mind, and I shouldn't have…"

She stared at him. "What are you talking about? I know I was drunk, but I remembered…well, some of it…" her voice trailed off. "Please don't apologise. You have nothing to apologise for."

"All the same, I…"

"Aizawa," she cut him off. "It's fine. We're both adults, consenting adults. We can be mature about this. It was just…well…things happened. We can put this behind us, and be the way we always are…" She knew that she was babbling, but it felt like that was all she could do at the moment.

The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like he had taken advantage of her, when it was practically the other way round. She didn't remember all that happened last night, but she clearly remembered jumping on Aizawa. And he was probably too polite to push her away. And one thing led to another, and as stoic and ice-king as Aizawa was, biologically he was still belonged to the male species.

Thank goodness she could, and would be adult about this. It probably wasn't a big issue to Aizawa, knowing him, so long as he didn't feel that he did anything wrong. And he didn't.

"I mean, it's okay. I'm okay. It's just…a thing."

A shadow of emotion flickered past his eyes, but just as quickly, it was gone. "A thing," he repeated, looking away from her.

An awkward silence settled between them before he cleared his throat and stood up. "Well. I'll see you at work later, then."

She nodded. "Urm…I hope you don't mind if I don't see you out." She was still naked, after all.

He tilted his head slightly to acknowledge her, and then he was gone.

As she heard her apartment door shutting, she fell back onto her pillows and let out a frustrated groan. I am never, ever drinking again, she vowed.

"Well, don't you look refreshed!" Hiyama said chirpily as Shiraishi walked into their office. "I expected you to look like a complete wreck after your drinking adventures last night."

She gave a start, staring at her friend. Did she mean…"What?"

"Oh, come on," Hiyama teased, poking her at the side of her ribs. "You know how you are when you're drunk. What did you do to Aizawa after we left?"

What did I do to Aizawa...?! She could still remember some of the things they did yesterday...

Shiraishi sputtered her face red, and pushed the images out of her head. She was about to give a vague answer when a shadow fell over them. "Hiyama," Aizawa said curtly. "I believe patient in 5B was yours. Her husband has a few questions for you."

"Good morning to you, too." Hiyama quipped sarcastically.

As Hiyama left, Shiraishi turned to her work station, opening her laptop and grabbing a nearby file. Aizawa was still standing where he was, looking at her, but not saying anything. She looked up after a while. "Do you need anything, Aizawa-sensei?"

"Do you want to have lunch together later?" He asked abruptly.

In all her years of knowing him, she could count on the fingers on two hands the number of times he had initiated lunch with her, or with any of them, for that matter.

"Uhhh…sure? I'll tell Hiyama and Fujikawa?"

She saw his eyes shifted, and then he gave a curt nod, picking up his stethoscope, heading towards the emergency room.

She let out a breath. Act normal, she told herself. Everything is normal.

As normal as things could be after sleeping with Aizawa Kosaku, anyway.

A/N: So I've never really written for this fandom before. The only time I ever wrote Code Blue fanfiction was all the way back in 2009, where it was actually more of a Kurosagi fanfiction rather than Code Blue. I borrowed Aizawa to make things complicated for Tsurara, and threw in Shiraishi for the heck of it (it's actually still alive at my defunct livejournal: *at* kohee (search the yamaki tag - yes, I was a huge Yampi/Maki fan)

Code Blue has never been about romance but to be honest, Aizawa x Shiraishi was my OTP since season 1, even though I knew it wasn't happening. Season 2 was hopeful, but still kinda nah. Season 3 right now, though, the first episode itself had me going sdgsldkfslkdfsdl! I know it eventually died down (damnit), but still, the first episode allowed me to imagine…hence this fic.

(Also the fandom is dead, I just want to have something in this section)

Reviews are very very much appreciated!