Title: Shifts and Changes (2/2)
Summary: What happened THAT night could change them forever--change their friendship, their outlooks, and their hopes. For better or for worse were yet to be seen, but they each individually knew that fighting the change would be futile.
Rating: M
Note: Rating is to be safe, as I would not pescribe the following as smut. I forgot to note that TV timelines are screwy, so in this timeline Lost is mid-season 2. Read, Review, Enjoy.

Izzie and Mark weren't sprawled out on different ends of the couch--they sat back to back, Izzie's head on Mark's shoulder, and vice-versa. Their legs laid on their own ends, but they kept their proximity to talk. Lost had only just ended, and like always, sparked a debate. This one, like most, of course consisted of the love triangle.

Thus far, the conversation had extended to 12 minutes, when suddenly Mark lifted his head from Izzie's shoulder, a signal for her to do the same, and he brought his feet to the carpet. Izzie gave her feet some footing too, and sat in a normal fashion on the couch, instead resting her head on the couch.

They sat back, Izzie waiting for Mark to respond to her question. After a few moments, Izzie said, "So, you going to answer?"

He smirked at her impatience, and decided to lean forward, elbows on his thighs, chin on his conjoined hands.

"They might just be actors, and all they got to go on is a script, but any actor with chops can interpret the reading between the lines--and can portray it on screen."

Izzie nodded in agreement, and leaned forward to meet Mark's stance.

"Look at you--all wise and insightful. If only Derek could see you now," she playfully mocked him.

"You know me," he mocked, "and it's either that or Matthew Fox and Evangeline Lilly are having an affair."

"You are disgusting!" she swatted his shoulder, "Tsk, tsk, tsk--just when I thought you were maturing."

"What fun would I be then?" Mark grinned.

"Well, that's partially true," she sighed, leaning back on Mark. She adjusted herself, moving Mark's arm, and resting her head on his shoulder blade.

"If it was Jack who was the ex-con, and Kate with the hero complex, would you still see them together?" Mark said out of the blue after some moments.

Perplexed, Izzie shifted slightly to look up at Mark.

"Because let's face it--the popular public would generally be more opposed to a woman with a respectable past and job getting with a guy with a criminal one, in contrast to a respectable man with a convicted woman. Gender roles and all."

"In society, neither would really be acceptable," Izzie stated.

"Right, but wouldn't the respectable female be protected far more than a man?"

"Well, yea."

"But I'm asking you--do you think that theoretical Jack would deserve theoretical Kate?"

"And this is all assuming that instead of Sawyer, there would be another girl?"

"Yea, like Ana Lucia."

Izzie turned her gaze from Mark's, thinking for a moment on the theoretical scenario. Gender-specific, there were still prejudices in society, and in people like herself. Should the good girl go to the bad boy, as opposed to the bad girl going to the good boy. And really, doesn't it depend?

"It depends," she answered.

"On?" he caught her gaze, so she wouldn't avoid the answer furthermore.

"It depends on the guy's heart--if, like Kate, he would have a good will and heart, then he would deserve that chance to be with the one he really loves."

"But with love, you never know, right?" he smirked, but Izzie caught the uncertainty in his gaze.

"That's the fun and horror of it," she whispered. Mark then took her hand in his, and moved to rest his chin on Izzie's crown.

"If you ever repeat this you won't have in on a surgery ever again, but--I really enjoy having someone to talk to like this."

Inhaling softly, she murmured," Me too."

Her soft murmur compelled him to shift his head, and move his lips to brush a soft kiss on her forehead. Involuntary, Izzie shivered under his tentative action, and she inched her head up to meet his eyes.

Their eyes locked for a moment, they stared, frozen in the moment. Something else froze this time. It wasn't Izzie, it wasn't Mark. It was the surrounding room, the stillness of the moment, the lack of disturbance. They knew they were leaning in, and they could not ignore the desire that slowly was exposing itself in the moment.

Before their lips could meet, Mark whispered, "Izzie."

And she, "I'm not drunk."

Smirking in response, he said, "I'm not married."

And their lips crashed, with no extenuating circumstances to damn them. Except maybe their friendship, but that issue seemed to pale in comparison to previous issues.

Her hands dove into his hair, as his hands cradled her face, their tongues fighting for dominance, lips bruising in the heat of passionate kisses, as they were sucked into a dance.

They cared for each other, and perhaps somewhere in between they had fallen in love. But the word love went unspoken, as they let passion override uncertainties.

They were stripped of clothing, precautions thrown to the wind, and they just let instinct control them. Bare and naked, they kissed fervently, touched as though they had been deprived of proper nutrition.

"Mark," Izzie whispered into his ear, her body writhing beneath him.

"Uh huh," he said against her soft breast.

"Now, Mark. I-I…," she tugged at his hair, gathering his attention.

"Now Mark," she said more firmly.

He nodded, and responded with a soft kiss--and by delving into her.

Izzie moaned, her head fell back, and she grasped the floor beneath her. Mark dug his head into her neck, nipping her skin, pushing into her. Hard. Back and forth, making her shiver and moan, making her grip his back and wrap her legs around him. She pushed him into her harder, felt him seep into her skin, and felt the pleasure ride over them in waves.

The moment would be over too soon, and he would rest his head on her chest, and she would trace invisible lines on his back. They wouldn't speak, because they knew that words would only ruin what had just occurred. Because what happened, wasn't supposed to happen between friends. But what they had felt, didn't happen to just anybody. And so they were without answers, so much so, they weren't willing to risk anything.

Eventually, they had to get up, had to get clothed, and eventually Mark had to leave (they were already fortunate enough to not have Meredith come home). In this time, no words were spoken either--they clothed in silence. However, Marks' departure had to be addressed in some way or another.

Izzie cleared her throat after Mark threw his coat on, readying herself to say something casual, but instead he laid his hand on the back of her head, and titled it up so he could meet her lips in a soft and sweet small kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he then said, and left the house.

"Yea," she barely managed to answer, still befuddled as to what all of this meant. Their state of friendship had obviously shifted, but only time could tell what else would shift between them.