This was written for Bethany (Murgy31) for her birthday … a mermark one-shot
This is a rewrite of the ending scene of 3X07, Where the Boys Are.
Happy, happy, happy birthday, Bee! I need not mention how awesome you are … you already know that I think you rock! Luv ya to pieces (kiss kiss hug hug)
The McSteamy face … doesn't work on me; I'm immune …her words came back to haunt her. Immune … yeah, right, she thought, as she watched his teasing steel blue eyes twinkle in amusement at his blatant flirting. Okay, so maybe I'm not all that immune … but seriously, there should be a law against a man possessing all that charm and magnetism!
She tried really hard to stop herself from smiling so as not to betray her own amusement at his flirting, not to mention her realization that she was not exempt from the McSteamy charisma … but 'darn!' it was getting mighty difficult to prevent her lips from curling upward.
Agreeing to this toast-to-Donna drink he suggested after the surgery may not have been one of her wisest decisions after all. She had just spent the past half hour being enamored by his confidence and charm … and let's not forget his freakin' masculinity!!! Holy crap! But this guy exuded sex! Eye-candy indeed, she admitted with humor, remembering the term she had once overheard Addison use when she spoke about Mark.
A brilliant surgeon he was, and she had just spent the entire day as his intern, so she saw first-hand just how talented and skillful he was at his field … and it surprised the hell out of her that he agreed to do the surgery, but she must admit that she saw him in a new light because of it. She grudgingly owned up to her growing admiration for the enigma that was Mark Sloan.
And, dang, he's not a bad conversationalist either, she had to admit … not bad at all! He'd been telling her the most fascinating stories about some of the surgeries he's done in the past, and he had her roaring in laughter with all his anecdotes. He had a compelling way of speaking; his voice had a throaty timbre that made one pay close attention to him as he spoke. Well, it wasn't so much as the sexy drawl that held her fascinated as it was the excitement and candidness in the way he narrated his most successful and most hilarious cases. He spoke with such pride and enthusiasm, like a little boy showing off his first bike, that it was endearing to just listen to him.
His enthusiasm waned, the sparkle of enjoyment in his eyes replaced by a pang of sorrow, however, when he mentioned Derek's name as he was telling her about a case they were both working on in New York. The slight hitch in his voice betrayed his shift in mood, causing her giggle to falter, and the light atmosphere between them was dampened by that brief memory of his former best friend.
She watched him as he stared absently at his beer mug, pain and regret etched on his face as he, she strongly suspected, thought of the man who was the common thread between them, the one who 'made' them Dirty Mistresses. Concerned and regretful that he had turned morose, yet unwilling to startle him, she slowly leaned forward and wrapped her hands around her own glass, bringing it within a few inches of his mug, hoping that the slight movement would distract him from his contemplation.
It seemed to work because he shook his head ever so slightly and a mischievous glint replaced the sadness in his eyes. Throwing her THE McSteamy smile, he cleared his throat then lightly grazed her hands with his fingers, his lips curling amusedly before lifting his glass to take a swig.
"So … this could be just a drink," she heard him say huskily, causing her to shake her head, more in bewilderment and amusement than as an indication of dissent. "Or this could be more than a drink," he proposed, a promise of fun and excitement glittering in his steel blue eyes.
She continued to shake her head, her tongue unconsciously making a sweep of the edges of her teeth as she contemplated what she was going to say to him. Her first instinct was to violently react to his appalling proposition, but the impish grin he flashed at her made her lips curl upward, and she was unable to control the bubble of laughter that erupted from her throat.
Raising her eyebrow at him, she finally responded through her mirth.
"It isn't enough that you've slept with his wife; now you're propositioning his dirty ex-mistress," she scolded, making big eyes at him. Folding her arms in front of her, she leaned her body forward to bring her face closer to his. "Just what is your problem? I thought you were tying your damnedest to make up with him. Sleeping with me won't exactly endear you to him, you know."
Mark expelled a deep sigh and leaned back against the seat, wiping a hand over his face in frustration. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling for a few seconds, grunting and groaning unintelligibly before he brought his gaze level with hers again. His right hand stroked his beard methodically, as if he were deep in thought, while he stared blankly at her. At her concerned prodding, he released another sigh and leaned forward again, but he avoided her intent stare by looking at his beer.
"It's just that …" he began tentatively, clearing his throat again before continuing, "he went camping today … today of all days … he decided to go camping today."
"Yes, I know … he's somewhere in the middle of the woods … communing with nature … taking space … thinking and finding himself … being a mountain man in the wild … whatever," she replied, rolling her eyes in disgust. "And so?" she prompted.
"With every single male he knows in Seattle, except me," he said sulkily.
"Surely you didn't expect him to invite the guy who slept with his wife, did you?"
"Yeah, well …" he said in resignation, wiping his hand over his face again. With another sigh, he continued sullenly, "He did this on purpose, you know … he could have gone another day, but he chose this day to go camping."
"Mark, what the hell is so wrong about him going camping today of all days," she asked exasperatedly.
"We used to do that every year on this day, ever since we were twelve. It was our thing … and even if I hated camping … being in the woods … away from civilization … away from women … it was our thing. We went camping every year on my birthday."
Watching him intently, she chewed on her lower lip as she took in his slumped shoulders and defeated expression. After a minute, she swung her arm toward him, her opened hand palm up between them.
He stared at her hand for a few seconds before he looked at her face to see her raised eyebrow and skeptical smirk. Amusement at her suspicious expression, the corner of his lips lifted as he leaned to his left to reach for the wallet in his right back pocket. He sniggered as he took out the card and placed it with flourish on the waiting hand, mischievously covering her hand with his.
She tugged at her imprisoned hand, tsk tsk tsking at him when he wouldn't let it go. Pursing her lips in feigned annoyance, she threatened him with her eyes till he released her hand. Throwing him one last scolding look, she brought the card within reading distance, and then rolled her eyes at him when she heard his I-told-you-so laugh.
"Okay, fine, you were telling the truth," she conceded grudgingly, tossing his driver's license across the table at him. "So … what does Derek going camping on your birthday have to do with you propositioning me, hmmmm?"
He burst into laughter at that, a deep rumble of uninhibited enjoyment, the kind that pulled at one's heartstrings. Unfortunately for her, it was her heartstrings that were being pulled. Ignoring the voice of reason, she shrugged, and then raised her glass to her lips, drinking the remaining beer in one swig. Laying the empty glass on the table, she slid out of the booth and stood at the corner of the table, looking at him expectantly.
When he sat unmoving, his triumphant smirk and glittering eyes the only evidence that he understood her invitation, she rolled her eyes again in exasperation, and then extended her hand to him, jerking her head toward the door.
He saw the very slight uncertainty in the way she shifted nervously, but the twinkle in her eyes and the unwavering smile on her lips propelled him to take her extended hand, grasping it tightly in his as he moved to stand in front of her. He looked down at her with a wolfish smile and tugged her closer to him, 'McSteamy'-ly leaning over her. He chuckled heartily when she instinctively pulled back from the proximity, her startled eyes meeting his as her hand clutched at his arm reflexively, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to prevent her from falling backward.
She playfully pushed at his chest when she got her bearings, laughingly berating him for the stunt he had just pulled. Biting her lower lip to lend credibility to her feigned outrage, she good-humoredly swatted his arm and made a face at him. Chuckling even louder, he drew her against him, letting her brush against his body intimately for a few seconds before he allowed her to pull back, though only enough to give her room to breathe.
Those few seconds held against his hard and oh so deliciously tempting body were enough to send her pulses racing, and she clamored to hide that fact from him, the warning bell in her brain pealing very loudly, signifying that she was in dangerous territory. She was unable, however, to control the shiver of anticipation from dancing along her spine, and she saw the wicked gleam in his eyes, an indication that he knew of her sexual awareness of him. The few inches that separated them weren't sufficient to cushion his overpowering sexuality, and his irritatingly sexy smoldering gaze didn't help either. Holy crap!!!
"Okay, you," she said breathlessly, pushing at his chest to escape the confining sexual tension, breaking away from his embrace, albeit grudgingly she must admit, "you have to stop that! I'm immune to you, remember," she stressed, poking at his chest before moving towards the door, not bothering to check if he had followed her.
She didn't need to … coz she could feel him … she could tell by the goose bumps on her arms and the way the hair at her nape rose … he was indeed following closely behind her … dangerously close!
"Immune, huh? You sure about that?" he drawled against her ear, walking a step behind her as they exited the bar.
"Shut it!" she hissed, sending up a prayer for some strength to resist the man sending dangerous swirls of excitement coursing through her body.
Well, this was supposed to a one-shot, but I wanted to put this up for Bethany's birthday, which is today, the 11th of September. Hopefully, the part two of this story will be up in a few days; it will pick up from where this part left off.
(her prompt: it's Mark's birthday, no one remembered to greet him, Mer takes him out, fluff!)
Hope you liked this, Bee! Again, happy birthday, luv! :)