Second installment for my lovely friend Kris!

Prompt was: a one-night stand after they lose a patient. Years later, they haven't dealt with their feelings.

Eva entered her apartment in tears, slamming the door behind her and hurling her bag at the floor angrily. It wasn't fair, things like this should not happen.

Still crying, she collapsed on her couch, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed.

"Eva!" she heard someone call as they banged on the door.

"Eva, please!" he sounded desperate as he kept knocking.

"Go away, Chris, I just want to be alone right now," she said calmly as she could, hoping her answer would deter him, but she should've known better.

"I know you're hurting, and I don't care how much you tell me you don't need someone, we both know that you do! Now open the goddamn door!" he yelled back, but she stayed put. That is, until the knocking stopped and she heard a thump that told her he'd slumped down to the ground, defeated.

"Please Eva, I need you too," he said in a low, strangled voice, the strength gone out of him, and that did it. Wiping her tears away, she got up and unlocked the door.

Chris was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up slightly, his elbows leaning against them as he hid his face in his hands. Eva sank to her knees, curling into him as they both slouched against the wall and held each other tightly, his face buried in the crook of her neck, fighting back tears while he squeezed her from where his arm wrapped around her waist.

"It's not fair," she said, and he ran his hand up and down her back when she began to tremble.

"No, it's not," was all he could reply, holding her tighter.

There are days in the life of those in their line of work, where they are powerless, unable to help someone no matter what they do, and it makes them question everything, their sanity, their skills, their calling. After all, what good are you as a doctor if you can't save a life?

Today had been one of those days. A little girl died right before their eyes, even while they did the impossible to keep her alive. An armed jerk had opened fire in a playground, and this sweet child's life had ended in a matter of hours afterward. All throughout the process of attending to her, the one thing she had asked for was to see her mommy, and she didn't even get to do that because she died on the table.

It was the first time they'd lost a patient so young, and it had disturbed them, watching the life drain out of her while the man responsible for the three gunshots that brought her down left the ER with barely more than a scratch.

Though Chris had only known Eva for the eight months he'd been working at Miami Trauma One, they had become good enough friends that he noticed when she was down, when she needed someone. He noticed the way she retracted from the world, the way she closed in on herself and walked out without saying a word in protest when Dr. Rayner sent them home that day. The usual spark that made her her was absent from her eyes and Chris knew, he just knew that she needed him right now, probably just as much as he needed her, and so he had followed her home, because neither of them should be alone right now, not after what had happened today.

"Four years old and we couldn't save her," Eva's voice said from where her face hid on his shoulder now.

"We did everything we could," he said, but it sounded hollow, the automatic response he was used to giving families when he couldn't do anything for their loved one.

"What use are we if we can't save a little girl from something she has absolutely no fault over, Chris? What good am I if I can't…" but she couldn't speak anymore, she was shaking too much, sobbing too much, and he held her as he raised them both up, walking into her apartment with her and settling them both on the couch. His hands cupped her face, wiping away tears even as she refused to look at him.

"It wasn't our fault," he said, his eyes wild, he couldn't take the sight of her so sad and broken.

"It was our job to save her, and we didn't," she told him, shaking her head while he continued to hold her face in his hands, moving her and bringing their foreheads together.

"It wasn't our fault," he said again, whispering it against her cheek this time, his lips catching some of the tears that fell from her eyes. Eva sniffled and took a deep breath, trying to calm down the tremors that were running through her body. His touch seemed to soothe her, so with their foreheads still touching, he let his hands run down the sides of her face, to her neck and her shoulders and down her arms to hold her hands, his thumbs rubbing in circles on her skin when their fingers laced together, and she sighed before separating her face from his and resting her head against his chest, her hands letting go of his and going up so she could wrap her arms around his neck.

Something about the contact, the way they anchored themselves to each other, helped make her shallow breaths come easier, until her shaking had stopped and she was calm enough to look up at him. Her eyes were sad, and Chris raised a hand to her chin, holding it as he planted a kiss on her forehead and then, for some inexplicable reason, he leaned in and kissed her lips.

He had no idea why he'd done it, but he pulled away fast, apologizing over and over, until Eva shut him up by planting her lips on his again.

She was fire and he was burning, holding her closer, tighter, his hands roaming her back as she climbed on top of him and pushed him down on the couch, straddling him. It took a few minutes before common sense penetrated the haze of his befuddled mind, and he held her firmly and parted their mouths before speaking.

"Eva, this is… should we be doing this?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Probably not, but I don't want to stop," she told him.

"Neither do I," he replied, and after a few shallow breaths, they were kissing again, but this time it was sweet, unhurried, with a tenderness neither of them expected, and Eva's tiny whimper made Chris stop for a moment, moving to sit up on the couch. Slowly, he removed her shirt, his fingers lingering against her skin as he moved the fabric upwards, his lips flying to her neck once the garment was discarded.

His hands threaded in her hair as they kissed, and then he moaned when he felt her start to remove his shirt, her nails raking against the taut skin of his stomach. They tasted each other, learned each other, and it felt significant somehow, like it wasn't just two hurt people comforting each other, but more like it was something they'd been desperate to do and hadn't realized it until now. They'd always been attracted to each other, that much was obvious, but neither of them was prepared for the onslaught of feelings that this act was stirring in them. It felt wrong and it felt right at the same time, and Chris marveled at the beauty that was Eva, sitting on top of him in her jeans and bra, staring down at him with hooded eyes.

"I need you," he whispered, his words placeholders for all these other emotions coursing through him that he couldn't name.

"I need you, too," Eva whispered back, understanding exactly how he felt. She then leaned forward, her lips on his again, tongues dancing, savoring, enjoying.

His hands trembled when he attempted to remove her bra, and she stopped kissing him and moved her arms away from his bare chest in order to help him, undoing the clasp at her back and dropping the ice blue lace that covered her. Chris let his hands leave her waist, dragging them along her sides and up, up, up until he reached her breasts. She moaned at the feeling of his hands on her, and suddenly she was crashing her lips to his again, fast and hard and needy now as she began to rock her hips where she sat on his lap, and there was a primal, guttural sound that came from Chris as he felt the heat from her body. With fumbling hands and unsteady fingers, he removed the rest of her clothes, arching his waist up when she hurriedly hooked her fingers in his belt loops to do the same.

They were desperate now, needy moans and pants coming from both of them as they rocked into each other, and Eva's tongue traced a wet trail from his jaw and down to his chest, his stomach, and back up as she stroked him, her name no more than a whimper on his lips as he writhed under her touch. His eyes were closed so he saw nothing, but frowned when her hand left him, only to gasp when he felt her wet heat enveloping him as she sank into him.

"Oh, god!" he groaned, his hands flying to her hips and keeping her steady for a moment while he soaked up the incredible feeling, reveling in her warmth. She was gasping again when he moved his hands back to her breasts, teasing her nipples before sitting up and latching his lips to each hardened peak in turn, gently biting down on the delicious skin there while she rolled her hips and he thrust upwards and into her, hard and fast and perfect, and his name left her mouth in a cry of pleasure as her orgasm ripped through her, wave after wave, his breath heavy on her neck as he came with her.

Chris leaves Eva's apartment and neither of them speaks of that night ever again. That is, until three years later, when they lose another patient under similar circumstances, a boy this time, with a gunshot that goes straight through his left lung. They lose him seconds after they get him into surgery and the feeling of déjà vu grips them, and this time, when Dr. Proctor sends them home to take a breather because they are too overwhelmed to continue working, it's Eva who follows Chris home.

She doesn't even need to knock, as Chris leaves the door open for her, knowing she'd show up. Her arms wrap around him instantly.

"I'm so sorry," she tells him, and he trembles a little as he hugs her back.

"Me too," is all he says, planting a kiss on her neck. It's gotten easier to deal with the death of patients over the years, but this is only the second time they've lost a kid, and it hurts them just as much as the first one did.

They slip into their old pattern, where his touch and her kisses serve to comfort each other and they sink into the oblivion that they itch to provide one another, but this time, when it's over, she doesn't move from her spot next to him, doesn't scramble for her clothes. Instead, she holds him, her arm draped over his chest as he lies on his back with her curled at his side.

"I've missed you," he says quietly, and she freezes.

"Chris…" she begins, but he shakes his head.

"I can't do this, Eva," he tells her, and there's a panic in her eyes when he says it, but she misunderstands, because he wants her, of course he wants her.

"I mean, I don't want it to be just this."

"What are you talking about?" she asks.

"Why did you ask me to leave that night?" he retorts, memories of her hurried goodbye and her plea to never speak of what had happened plaguing him as he speaks.

"We were grieving, that's it, just like we are now. I didn't want it to be construed as something else. I didn't want you to feel like you owed me anything."

"Eva—"

"We were hurting and wanted to be there for each other, things got a little out of hand, and after it happened, I panicked. I don't regret it, not really, but you're my best friend, Chris. I didn't want anything to get in the way of that."

"And tonight?" he asks her.

"I just… needed you," she says, focusing her gaze on the lazy pattern she's drawing on his chest, and she's lost in the feeling of his skin beneath her fingertips. He holds her tighter, bringing her closer as he plants a kiss on her forehead.

"I needed you too," he tells her, "but that's the thing, it's not just this, it's not just tonight. I always need you, Eva."

His revelation catches her by surprise, and she props herself up on her arm to look at him.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"I want you. I want us," he answers simply.

"Chris we can't," she says.

"Why not? This works, Eva. You and me, it works."

"We could screw it up and then we'd despise each other."

"I don't think it's possible for me to despise you no matter what you do," he says, letting the back of his hand run up and down her cheek, and she closes her eyes, reveling in the contact. Chris presses a kiss on her brow, then another on her lips, soft and brief.

"What do you feel?" he asks her, and she takes a deep breath, looking down where his hand has just joined with hers, her hair falling to her face.

"I don't know what I feel… but I know it's never been like this with anyone else," she confesses.

"Is that why you're afraid?"

"Maybe," she admits still not looking at him, and he lets go of her hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then tilts her chin up so he can meet her eyes when he speaks.

"It's never been this way for me, either. Look, I can't tell you I won't mess up, because I'm an idiot when it comes to you, so of course I'll do something to piss you off at some point," he says, and they grin at each other because they know he's right, but they also know she can never stay mad at him for long, as he's always finds ways to make her smile, make her giddy. It's how they work, it's why they work.

"But I can promise that I won't ever stop being your friend. I don't just want this, Eva," he tells her, gesturing to their current state, "I want all of you. Every part of you, whether good or bad, I want it."

He kisses her once more, and when they part, she smiles, and there's an openness to that smile that lets Chris know he's got his answer, that there's the yes he's been hoping for.

"Are you sure about this?" she asks, hesitating for a moment, and he kisses her again, her warm, soft lips responding to his immediately.

"I've been sure about this since the day I met you, Eva," he says, smiling against her mouth before hugging her to him.

They lie in each other's arms, the promise of a future together lifting the somber mood that had settled in them earlier, and as his lips drop kisses in her hair, Eva sighs and drifts off to sleep with a small grin on her face, because she knows deep down that Chris is right, this works. They're good together, they're stronger together. They always have been.

Good? Bad? Beige?

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-B