This was bad. He couldn't even sleep. Well, he never slept, but right now, he was thinking. Thinking unwelcome, inappropriate thoughts about her. The damn forbidden intern. The way she treated him. Not like he was damaged, not like he was broken, she treated him like a person. But it wasn't just the way she acted, it was the way she felt. The was she felt pressed against him, the way she felt when her hips grinded against him. And all it was , was pool. He sighed, turning off the light. Mark hated himself for these thoughts, he hated Derek for making him feel like this, and he wanted so badly to hate her for doing this to him, but he couldn't. He couldn't stop seeing her when he closed his eyes, and he couldn't mash down the excitement that bubbled up inside of him when he thought of seeing her at work.

Mark sat up in bed, turning the light back on.

Work was exactly what he needed.

Find a trauma, do a surgery, work an ER shift. Find a trauma, do a surgery, work an ER shift. Do it every night until he couldn't. And he did. He went three days without seeing her, and her mint shampoo was almost wiped from his memory. Almost.

. . .

Thirty Six hours, no sleep, and Mark wasn't even tired. He hadn't been on a high like this since he was a resident.

"Gauze…" he muttered, flipping on the lights in the supply closet.

"Oh, uh, D-Doctor Sloan, hi!" she stuttered, looking up. Their eyes met, and all of his feelings rushed back.

"Doctor Grey," he said softly.

"I"m sorry, I'll, uh, I'll get out of your way."

"No, don't. I could use the company." He sunk down next to her, pulling his legs up to his chest. "You doing charts?" he asked, grabbing one from the large pile that sat next to her.

"No, no, not doing, rewriting. There's a difference." he chuckled, flipping through the chart.

"Holy Crap, how do you read these?" he asked, looking over at her, diligently scribbling.

"I don't, mostly," she shrugged, "I was on most of the these cases, and with the photographic memory…"

"Ah, the return of the photographic memory." he mused, leaning his back against the wall, causing her to laugh. He felt his heart flutter and he coughed awkwardly, shaking it off.

"It's not that amazing, you know." she said, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

"It has it's perks, don't get me wrong, but," she sighed, and he quickly cut her off.

"What possibly could be bad about this? Sure, you see a dead bird or something when your seven, and maybe hear something on the news that freaks you out a little, but you can remember anything! Just like that, you just flip through pages in your mind palace." she giggled, brushing back her hair.

"Yeah, the mind palace thing is pretty cool, but you said it yourself, I remember everything. Sometimes there are just things you want to forget."

"The other night, was that something you want to forget?" he asked quietly, leaning into her, causing her breath to catch.

"I'll never forget that night," she murmured, eyes darting to his lips. They were parted slightly, and the scruff above them was teasing her.

"Do you want to?" he whispered into her lips, and her eyes fluttered shut.

"No. Never."

"Good," he whispered, and his breath was taunting her. "You're gonna have to tell me to stop," he whispered, lips brushing against hers and she made the smallest noise, a mix between a whimper and a moan and he could swear in front of God that it was the sexiest thing on earth, "Because If you don't stop me, I'll take you right here in this closet and you'll scream so loud that…"

"Stop." she whimpered, "Please, stop." she scooted back, collecting the charts. He wanted to shoot himself. He was an idiot. Lexie stood up, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just not… I'm sorry… Doctor Sloan." The last part hurt the most. It felt like she had ripped his heart into millions of pieces.

"Lexie," he muttered, reaching up to grasp her fingers. She pulled them away after a second of connection and turned away from him. She quickly left the enclosed space, closing the door gently behind her, but somehow, the noise was exaggerated in her mind. She leaned against the wood, tears threatening her eyes.

"Damn it…" She muttered, walking away.

. .

"Callie?" he asked, walking towards her.

"Yeah?"

"I screwed up, kid." he muttered, running his fingers through his graying hair.

"Who'd you sleep with?"

"The question is, who I didn't sleep with. And, rather, why."

"Okay, then, Mark… Who did you not sleep with, and why did you not sleep with her." Then, her head shot up, and she dropped her pen. "Please tell me the said person is female."

"Yes, Callie. It's a girl."

"You know, for future reference, don't call a woman, a 'girl'."

"What if she's twenty four?"

"That would be the correct term." she nodded, and suddenly stopped. "What'd you do to Little Grey?"

"How'd you…"

"Lucky guess. So?"

"I got cocky, pushed her too hard."

"Woah… Way too graphic, man."

"No, I told you, I didn't sleep with her."

"Good."

"But I was going to."

"Not good, Mark! You heard what Derek said, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but, I can't fight it. It's just… I don't have control over it."

"It being...what?"

"Love." he muttered so quietly, she barely caught it.

"Oh, sweetie." she patted his back, knowing that now wasn't the right time to laugh. "What'd you do?"

"I told you, I got cocky."

"So, you said something?"

"Yes."

"What did you say to her, Mark."

"I might've told her that… um, I would uh… 'Take her right there in that closet.'" He slowly turned, pointing to the closet he was in just a few hours ago.

"You didn't!" she exclaimed, shock shown in every one of her features.

"Oh, it's not that bad… Ok, well, yeah, it's that bad. But, I, she, she gave me the green light, so, I just kind of, you know, figured,"

"That she'd want you to fuck her in a closet?" he laid his head in his hands, moaning.

"I'm an idiot."

"Yep." she muttered, leaving him to his thoughts.

. .