It's been a long day. Or, days, I should say. Considering I've been working for the past twenty-six hours. I've never really minded the long hours, though. Constantly seeing patients and dedicating all of my time and energy into figuring out complex neurons, it's... Well, it's what I need.
Because, let's face it, I'm an addict. I'm using an old approach, of course. The same one that I used when I decided to go to med-school in the first place, putting my nose in the books, and spending every free minute studying or being with other people. I know myself well enough to know that in these first few years, at least, alone time is the opposite of what I need.
And even though I have considerably more friends than I did when I first moved to Seattle, they're mostly all paired off. So on the off-chance that they do find time in their ever-so-busy schedules to hang out with me, it's not something I'm all that interested in anyways. Not getting laid sucks, but hearing about other people, and their super hot sex lives? Yeah, that sucks even more.
But lately I've been hitting it off with Owen. Interesting, I know. I never pictured myself being attracted to a taller-than-average red-head, with an equally tragic background. But I am. I really freaking am.
At first I wrote it off as general horniness, with maybe a touch of loneliness. My conversation with Meredith, Maggie, and Bailey did make me reminisce about the days when I had a warm body in bed next to me. But, if I'm being honest with myself, it was something more than that. Even at the beginning. When my addiction confronted me at work, yet again, he just seemed to get it. And not in the "Oh, it's so admirable that you're getting your life together!" way that people usually see it. He understood my pain, which on some weird level, was sort of gratifying.
We kissed, of course. Weeks after I started to notice that I spent way too much time thinking about what it would feel like to have him in my bed, his hands roaming my body, his lips at my throat. Yeah, weeks after that, I finally decided to get my ass in line, and go over to his trailer. I was awkward and freaky, and I didn't even end up being the one to initiate the kiss, but it made my knees weak all the same.
I got busy with the Herman case after that, but it doesn't mean that I didn't spend every free second of my time thinking about how good it felt to kiss him. I've dated quite a few guys in my lifetime, but none have ever been as genuine as Owen. I was so tuned into Herman's issues, and proving to myself that I could be the right Shepherd, that it probably appeared to Owen that I had completely forgotten about him. I couldn't even find the courage to kiss him, so of course I couldn't tell him that I spent most of my down-time thinking about him.
But, without fail, he was always there when I needed him. Just when I would start to feel as if I couldn't stand up for a second longer, that I couldn't analyze Herman's charts for one more second, he would be at my side with a cup of coffee. And that fucking addicting smile. When I needed reassurance or just someone to listen to my craziness, it was like he appeared out of nowhere. Once I finished the case, and allowed myself about a thousand years of sleep, I think I realized just how much I wanted Owen. Obviously in the sexual form of the word, because I'm not dead, but in every other form, too.
When the case with Ruby came up, it was like I was drawn to him. I couldn't resist putting my hand on his shoulder to comfort him, or to seek his eyes out during the hard parts, just to make sure that he knew that I was right there with him. I've never had that urge before. I've never felt so connected and protective over a man before. Yeah, like I said, I've dated quite a bit. And I've had serious relationships. But there was never this... profound sense of understanding and comfort that I had with him.
So it didn't surprise me all that much when I had him pinned up against a door in the on-call room after I finished surgery. Yeah, I may be cowardly when it comes to the first kiss, or in this case, the first hug - though I did have some awkward part in that - but I have no problem finishing what he started.
There's a lot of kissing and heavy breathing, and I keep thinking to myself that it feels so incredible to just be here, with him, that I almost don't want to move. Of course, I'm also a realist, and beyond familiar with a doctor's schedule. So I push my hips against his, sort of grinding against him in a way that I know is bound to get things moving. He picks me up, something I wouldn't usually like, but for some reason, with him, it's incredibly sexy. It's a short walk to the sad excuse of a bed in the on-call room, but I don't even notice that we've hit the bed. I'm too busy tasting him. Cataloguing the feel of his stubble against my face, the hard press of him against me, and on top of me. The way his breath sort of hitches when I push against him again, and start making a trail down his neck. All very, very nice things.
Pagers go off, interrupting what was going to be a very promising first encounter. And all through that day, I was reeling from it. I was pissed as hell, of course, when our second attempt was interrupted. It was starting to feel like the universe was getting back at me for not jumping him sooner, and god, do I regret it.
And that takes me to now, where I'm just coming off of my twenty-six hour shift. I look up from my cell phone to see Owen, and even the sight of him manages to give me those stupid fourteen year old girl butterflies. But he doesn't have to know that.
We're still awkward, at this point, so he does a little wave that just about melts my heart.
"Hey."
"Hi. Uh... Are we still- Did you want to, uh, you know?"
His inability to form words is cute, and as I'm about to respond with something equally as awkward, suddenly, I yawn. Really sexy, I know.
"Hey, look. If you're tired we don't have to, uh... We can always try again tomorrow."
And I can't believe that I'm about to say this, but I'm relieved that he's offering me an out. Because as much as I want him, I want sleep even more. But you know what? I'm a goddamn neurosurgeon, so I can find some middle-ground somewhere.
"I'm exhausted, actually. So do you think that we could just sleep?"
I hope that I put enough of an emphasis on the 'we' part for him to understand that I have absolutely no intention of going home alone tonight. Just because I'm not getting laid, it doesn't mean that I can't enjoy waking up to a man in my bed. And if we have a little extra time in the morning, then who knows? Maybe we'll make the best of it.
He's smiling at me now, which means that he's finally caught on to what I'm saying. But then he does the unexpected, though not at all unpleasant: he kisses me. Just a quick, soft, and entirely work appropriate kiss. Then he puts his arm around me, and we start walking to his car.
It's about forty minutes later, when we finally get to his place and get all settled in, that I realize how happy I am that I had the courage to request a sleepover. After a slightly awkward and yawn-filled conversation about what time we both needed to be up in the morning, and when he was absolutely sure that I would be comfortable in his big t-shirt and my underwear, we turned all the lights out.
His kiss goodnight was a little longer than your typical goodnight kiss, and there was tongue, for which I'm entirely grateful for. And then, just as I'm about to roll over, he grabs my face.
"I'm uh, I'm really glad that you're here. In my bed. And in Seattle. You're just... incredible."
I blinked for second so that he couldn't see my eyes start to water, because it's been a long day, and I'm a little bit emotional.
"Me too."
And we kiss again, shorter this time, and I finally roll over. Seconds later, he's at my back. His arms slip around me, and I can feel his solid chest against my back. I'm thankful the lights are out, so he can't see me grinning like an idiot, because it just feels so good. Even in the cold Seattle weather, he's so warm. And I'm surrounded by his smell, on the t-shirt of his that I'm wearing, on his pillows, and on him.
Which is why it isn't surprising that I'm fast asleep about ten minutes after he settled against me. We may not have "sealed the deal," so to speak, but if I'm guaranteed this level of comfort every night, there's no need to rush. I could lay here like this forever.
