"How did I get talked into this again?"
"I believe it was a strong example of peer pressure."
"I need new peers". Derek stood in the lockerroom in a towel, his hair still wet from the shower.
"Or peers who are less controlled by their women." Owen pulled off his scrub top. "I'd never admit it to her face, but, for a petite little thing, Cristina can be rather intimidating."
"Petite and pouty would be my description of Lex." Mark buckled up his pants. "There's something in that pout that just… takes my nuts and twists them until I say 'uncle'."
"So, basically I'm doing this to save your two asses… or cocks?"
"No. No." Mark grinned, "You're doing it for a much more important cause. You're doing it so that Owen and I will continue to get laid."
"Great. Wonderful. Like you two need any more time in the on call rooms?"
Owen paused, "can you ever, really have too much time in the on call room?"
Mark smiled deeply, "The answer to that question would be 'hell no'. And you, my friend" Mark leaned against his locker and looked at Derek, "haven't used the on call rooms for the right reason in waaaay too long."
Boxers on, Derek pulled out the blue shirt he'd chosen for the evening, put it on and started to button it up. "Either one of you want to be a pal and give me a hint about my date?"
Mark looked at Owen, who looked back at Mark. In unison they stated: "No."
"You two are a big help. Whatever happened to bros before hos?"
"I think that rule was created by some guy who wasn't getting laid."
Derek sighed. "Is she at least cute?"
"I'd dare to say she's hot." Owen offered.
"Will we have anything in common? Where'd you guys find her?"
"First of all, 'we' didn't find her. This is all Lexie, Yang, and Grey's doing. They 'found' her. We're just their willing pawns in the game of love."
"Willing pawns… game of…?" Owen shook his head in Mark's direction indicating that he had officially entered the 'no 'nads' zone.
Mark flipped him the bird.
"Is it too late to back out? It's not is it? I could say I have an emergency. I'm a doctor you know."
"Unless you're prepared to face the wrath of 3 seriously scary women, I'd suggest you keep the date."
"Fuck. I'm not doing tequila anymore. Tequila's what got me into this mess! If I'd been sober when you brought up this stupid blind date idea, I'd be going home tonight instead of going out to Le Petite Singe."
"Yeah, you'd be going home – alone."
"I'll probably STILL be going home alone."
"Out of curiosity, how long has it been since you've been out on a date?"
"I date."
"I repeat, when was the last time you were on a date?"
"Three months ago."
"Three fucking months?" Mark dropped down on to the bench. "How is it your dick hasn't fallen off from disuse?"
Owen responded, "I'm guessing: self appreciation."
"I've been busy! Neurosurgeon here. Long hours, patients in need…, dating isn't easy."
Mark shook his head in disbelief. "You're seriously going to use the fact that you're a neurosurgeon as an excuse for your not getting any? Women clambering all over you is at least half the reason any self-respecting man goes into medicine. And you're a surgeon on top of it? You should be beating women away with your meat stick."
Owen laughed. And it was Derek's turn to flip his 'friends' the bird.
"Fine, I'm out of here. But if this date is a nightmare – which I'm certain it will be - I'm going to make the two of you suffer."
Wwiw wwiw wwiw wwiw
This is stupid. Really stupid. I indicate to the florist that I want five of the pale purple orchids. I don't want to go on a blind date. Yet here I am, at the florists buying 'just in case' flowers for a woman I've never met, so that I can go to a fancy restaurant, make awkward conversation, pay a large bill, and act like I'm going to call her 'sometime next week'.
Paying for the flowers, I head out to the car. "How the fuck did I end up letting Lexie, Yang, and Meredith, of all people set me up?" I mutter as I put the vase onto the passenger seat with a sigh.
Great doctors each of them, but…. What do they know about me? Okay, Meredith, she might know something about me; but… not enough. Not enough for it to work between us. I start the engine with a quiet groan. Of course it probably isn't fair of me to expect anyone else to know what I want when I don't even know what I want.
A pair of chocolate brown eyes flash through my mind. Again.
I know who the owner of the eyes is, but I also know thinking about their owner is the first sign of impending insanity. Not only is Torres NOT my type, I'm pretty damn certain that I'm the last man on earth she'd consider… well that she'd consider doing anything but surgery with.
None the less, it was Torres' smile and Torres' eyes that had been haunting me for the last… what six, seven months? Not haunting me in the stalker, scary, killer way, but more in the 'waking up with a hard on' way, or in the 'all I can do is smile in her direction like a dumbstruck teenager' way.
I really didn't understand why Callie was suddenly having this affect on me; why I was finding myself reverting to a pubescent boy when I was around her – wet dreams and all.
It's not like I am really interested in her. I'm not. I can't be. Not really.
Okay, I will admit to sexual interest, but anything beyond that…. Not a chance. The two of us aren't a possibility. We aren't even supposed to be on one another's radars.
But there you go. Apparently, my radar is fucked up because Torres is a most definite blip on my screen. A sexy, beautiful, sassy, blip... that I knew I didn't stand a chance with.
As I pull up in front of the restaurant, I try and shake off all thoughts of Callie Torres, and cracking my neck, I head to the front door.
Now I just needed to find my date for the evening. My instructions were to ask for table three, and look for the woman in the red dress.
I just hope she's cute.
Wwiw wwiw wwiw wwiw
Nothing worse than being the first person at a party. Callie thought as she sat in the middle of the restaurant impatiently shaking her leg back and forth.
It was girl's night out again and the venue of choice (Lexie's choice) was this chi-chi restaurant in the middle of Seattle's tony downtown area. They were all supposed to have met here at 7. It was now, Callie glanced at her watch again, ten after seven, and yeah, she was all alone, at a table in the middle of the restaurant, in a ridiculously fancy red dress, drinking ice water, and eating bread.
Sipping the water she'd 'ordered', Callie looked toward the door again. Why they'd agreed to meet on a Friday night was beyond her. Fridays were historically date nights. Lexie and Yang should have been spending time with Mark and Owen, but instead… they'd planned this all pussy parade. Not that there was anything wrong with pussy.
She had this last thought as her eyes skimmed past the entrance of the restaurant – again. Only this time, she did a double take and refocused on the door, or rather on the person who'd just walked through the door. Derek Shepherd. Callie's cell started to ring as a thought skipped though her head, causing her to flush: There's nothing wrong with pussy, but, nope, there's definitely nothing wrong with a bit of cock either.
As she watched him speak with the host, Callie flipped open her phone and barked a quiet, "Torres."
"It's Yang –"
"Where the hell are you gu—"
"Shut up and listen; you've been set up by the Seattle Grace Matchmakers. Have fun with Shepherd!"
As the dial tone clicked in, Callie cursed silently. Shit. Fuck. No. No, no, no, no. I'm going to go to jail for killing Meredith, Yang and Lexie! Fuck!
She watched as Derek turned his pretty blues toward the dining room and began to follow the host further into the room, his eyes scanning the diners until he saw her. A look of surprise registered on his face, then a smile broke across his cheeks; one of those smiles that made her weak in the knees. Good thing she was sitting down.
Looking up at Derek as he reached the table, Callie managed to squeak out one word, "Shepherd."
His eyes sparked and his smile deepened. "Torres."
Well, this ought to be interesting.