Title: The Spirit Of The Season
Authors: Sara and Lizzie
Rating: T for language, maybe sex
Disclaimer: Obviously the show does not belong to two college girls.
Summary: Not knowing who he is, Meredith sleeps with Mark. Derek confesses his love to her, and then finds out about Mark. In a jealous rage, he makes a lot of bad choices that send him back to New York. With Christmas looming, Meredith has a choice to make. She can forget him, or she can bring him back to Seattle.
Author's Note: We couldn't resist a Christmas story. Especially not one that culminates in the only city that can really celebrate Christmas. NYC. (love new york. We're transferring back! For those of you interested in our personal lives. Its just that we feel like we know you guys.)
We're pretending the season 2 episode 'Yesterday' is set on Dec. 20th, and take it from there with us. Oh! And this is our first fic in first person POV. So show us love. Review.
You're so guilty it's disgusting,
he's been sneaking underneath your sheets,
and your hands have been places,
that they probably shouldn't go.
-Taking Back Sunday
Derek
Rage. That's the only way to describe it. Seattle is supposed to be the place where I don't have to think about the time I found my best friend screwing my wife. But it isn't anymore, because Mark is here.
This was my oasis. Seattle had everything I needed. Coffee, ferryboats, fishing and Meredith Grey. Now he's here and it's ruined. Dark clouds have settled over my oasis.
And the sun just started shining again this morning. I haven't been happy. That much I know. I've been less than happy. Addison and I, we're over. Emotionally, mentally, we're over. But she's my wife.
And she asked me to try again. And what kind of person would I be if I gave up eleven years of marriage with my wife? Only this morning, in the elevator with Meredith I realized that the trying was never going to work, and the oasis became sunny again.
Until Mark. Now I'm rage filled and I need somewhere to lash out this rage. That's the bad thing about your world boiling down to one person. When you're angry at the world, you usually take it out on them, because you know they'll forgive you.
That's what I do. And since, my world is Meredith, she's going to bear the brunt of this rage. Maybe her friends are right. Maybe I am an ass.
A feeling settles over me, like a rain cloud. I wait for the uneasiness to define its self and it does. Ahh, guilt. I'm planning to leave my wife now. It's tangible and in my head as a plan, a decisive move, not just an abstract fantasy. And it's tainted with guilt.
I'm going to Meredith first, because I've hurt her. I've hurt her endlessly, more times than I can stomach to think of, so she gets to be the first to know. And then I've got to tell Addison. I want a divorce.
I can imagine saying it. I can almost feel the words leaving my lips. It should make me feel better. But Mark being here? It fills me with rage.
Meredith
I'm smiley. It's kind of creepy, even to me. If all it takes is one little good moment in an elevator with Derek to make me smiley, what does that say about my resolve?
Nothing good. It's pathetic beyond all measure that I'm practically skipping down the hallway right now.
To add to my mounting embarrassment, I practically collide with Addison halfway down the hallway. For once, she isn't looking all put together and perfect. She's disheveled and has this odd look on her face. "Dr. Grey." She murmurs.
"Sorry." I say. She shakes her head and keeps right on walking. Whatever. Not my problem. Charts. Things to do. Right. I'm scribbling something down with pen that's slowly but surely running out of ink, and I feel eyes on me. I look up and connect with those blue eyes.
I smile. "Derek." I say, lightly, feeling slightly ashamed at my tone of voice. He doesn't say anything, just nods. "Got a case?" I ask looking at the file in his hands. He nods. "Need an intern? Any help?" I prompt. Where was Derek from the elevator, anyway?
He looks at me sharply. "Dr. Grey." He says, spitting out the name he never calls me. "If all you want is a case, why don't you ask your resident for one?"
Okaaay. Obviously something is bothering him. I reach over and lay a gentle hand on his arm. "Derek, what's wrong?"
He pulls his arm away from, like I'm burning his skin, and gives me this look. Not a good look. "It's Dr. Shepherd." He says coldly. "And everything is fine. Or it will be as soon as I find my wife." He stalks off, and I just stand there, staring after him.
Happy birthday, Jesus. Would it kill him to embrace the spirit of the season? Give me something? Or at least not act so helplessly bipolar. I like to think he doesn't mean it. That he does these things to me out love, or at least just carelessness.
But I can't ignore the way they sting.
Mark
I might be going for a world record. How many lives can I shatter in three days? Addison sees me, and her face just drains. Her jaw drops a little and she just stares. Like she can't even believe that I'm standing there.
Like she doesn't even want me to be standing there. Which proves that I was right. I came here, banking on the fact that the marriage Shepherd was pretty much over, and Addison was pretty much in denial about it.
And I'm right. Somehow I don't feel satisfied. It killed me to see the pain in her eyes, which was the first thing I noticed. That fire in her eyes, that icy blue flame that has never failed to fascinate, intrigue, and arouse me? That fire has died.
And then there's Derek. He sees me. His eyes register confusion. His eyes narrow. He shakes his head and walks away. He hasn't changed.
And then there's Meredith. She's young, wide eyed and heart broken. She's still got a fire in her eyes. It hasn't died yet. I can tell she hasn't been dealt an easy hand, but she's still got the fire.
She was unfortunate enough to fall for Derek. She fell into their triangle, and I can use her. So I'm going to. God willing, I'm going to smile at her enough and sweet talk her enough to use her.
The return date on my plane ticket to New York is December twenty third. Three days from now. So, how many lives can I shatter in three days?
Meredith
"Grey!" Joe calls at I walk into the bar. It's not as crowded as it usually is. I lift a hand and trudge to the bar. I look at him, and his raised eyebrows and nod. He sets a glass in front of me and I raise it to my lips, tip my head back and feel it burn, all the way down.
"Bad day?" Joe asks, refilling my glass.
"Oh yeah." I say. "Started good, got better, and then it fell to pieces. He kills me, Joe. In a new way every time." Glass to lips, head back, burn. If I do that enough times, everything is just going to fade into numbness.
And I like numbness. I feel heat from a body sinking down next to me, and turn my head. The handsome stranger from the hospital. Joe raises his eyebrows, and mouths 'wow'.
"Meredith." He says.
"Meredith." I confirm. There's a clink as Joe places a glass in front of me. Lips, head back, burn. I nod for another glass and repeat.
The McSteamy Stranger lets out a low whistle. McSteamy. Hm, that's good. "You might want to slow down, Meredith." I smile, and tip another shot past my lips, down my throat.
"You keep calling me Meredith, but I don't even know your name."
He smiles. And what a smile it is. "Mark. I'm Mark."
"We're not in the hospital, anymore, Mark." I hear myself saying. "You're free to hit on me now."
Hours later, we're stumbling back into my house. At least, I'm stumbling. He seems to be pretty stable. At least I hope so, because I'm drunk, and I'm holding onto him. Mike. Or did he say Mark?
"Oh yeah. I'm drunk." That sounded so much louder than it did in my head. Was that out loud. It must have been because McSteamy Mark is chuckling at me. Or was it Mike? Damn it.
"You might be drunk." He says. I turn towards him and before my impulses can control themselves, I'm pressing my body into his, pressing my lips to his and pushing my tongue into his mouth.
And what a mouth he has. I can think of a lot of things to do with that mouth. Okay, Meredith, get it together. You don't know anything about this guy other than that he's Mark. Or Mike. Or Matt, maybe. Some 'M' name.
I'm still contemplating this as he's flipping me onto my bed and removing my bra. My thoughts stop when he starts using that mouth on what he's just freed from my lingerie.
"Jesus." I hear myself moaning. I reach down, and with surprising dexterity, undo his belt buckle. Before I could tell you that my name is Meredith Grey, he's naked, I'm naked and he's sliding inside of me.
And it's good. Really good. I mean, he's no Derek Shepherd, but lately, I have been indulging in a lot of sex. A lot of trying to get over the fact that the love of my life is married sex. And some of it has been good. But none of it has come close to this.
Oh yeah. This is really good. I feel my left arm fly behind my head, and I think my fingers actually grip the headboard. I have this horrible feeling my five other fingers are digging into his back. And with good reason.
This is motion, and bodies, and thrusts and heat. He kisses my collarbone, and slides his mouth down further, and even in my drunken, sex covered haze, I can hear myself making noise- a lot of noise.
Before I know it, the heat is rolling through my body in spasms, and I'm sure he's in the same place. Yup. As he rolls off me, gasping, I start to fall asleep. Or maybe I'm just passing out. I have one last coherent thought before I'm completely gone.
Didn't Derek know a Mark once?
I'm not thinking anything when I wake up. My eyes are shut, because my head is pounding and I know that opening my eyes is just going to make that a whole lot worse. Sadly, there's a pounding at my door, and then Izzie appears.
I'm about to kill her for the noise and the sound, and making me move that fraction of an inch, but when I open one eye, I see she's got water, coffee and, thank God, aspirin. I accept all three, and she sinks down onto the bed.
"So, Mark Sloan is our kitchen." She said.
"Who the hell is that?"
"You know. The plastics guy. From New York. Alex is like, salivating over his presence."
All of a sudden, I'm wide awake. Mark. Plastics. New York. No. I sit up with lightning speed, and stare, wide eyed at Izzie. "Oh my God." She looks at me, strangely. Ignoring the blinding pain behind my eyes, I'm throwing on clothes from the floor and running down the steps.
"Tell me you don't know who I am." I say.
He looks at me, still steamy, even the morning after. "The girl who's wearing my shirt? The girl who tightens in just the right way at just the time?" He winks.
"Ew." Says Izzie, behind me.
"Mark Sloan." I say. "Derek's best friend Mark." I don't look at Izzie, but I keep my stare fixed on him.
He nods. "That'd be me." He smirks. I freeze.
"You knew, didn't you?" I demand. He shrugs. What the hell did I do?
So now, she knows it's him. And Derek has decided to confess his love to her. Obviously, this wont go well. Reveiw!
