-1
Women who slept with their bosses where known as dirty whores. It didn't matter what the reason was. Getting ahead, or just because it felt so damn good to be fucked on the photocopy machine. Women who slept with their bosses where dirty whores. It was a mindset that never changed. It was fear of being labeled a dirty whore that had made Meredith ask questions. She could handle being called a dirty whore if she knew whose dirty whore she was. And, there was quite a bit she didn't know about Derek Shepherd. So, she had demanded answers.
Which was how she had ended up in the middle of nowhere, outside a trailer that looked like something her grandfather use to pull behind his old beat up Chevy on his fishing trips. She was cold, wet, and tired. Yet, there she stood, listening to him give her answers. Sisters, no brothers. Irish mother. Dead father. A slight mist had covered them both with a sheen a moisture, causing a lock of his hair to fall across his face. He looked so endearing, so sweet. She smiles, reaching out her hand. Together, they walk toward the Streamline trailer, neither saying much.
Closing the door behind them, Meredith turns to face him. She brushes the lock of hair from his face. "Thank you," she says softly.
"For what?' Derek asks, catching the hand that had just brushed his hair back. He kisses the soft palm. A surgeons hands were always soft. They had to be. He nips a bit on the skin between her thumb and forefinger.
"For caring enough to tell me the truth." She smiles, taking her hand from him. She pushes his red quilted vest off, letting it drop to the floor. "For not just being another guy after a piece of ass." She starts unbuttoning the red plaid shirt he had on under the vest. Once his chest is exposed she presses small butterfly kisses across the warm, tanned skin. She takes one of his pebble hard nipples between her teeth, nipping lightly. He shrugs out of the shirt. She kisses her way up his throat. "Just...thank you for being you."
This was the first time Derek had allowed himself to think of New York, of Mark and Addison; Addison in particular. A man didn't like thinking of his wife while he was with another woman. It had been the honesty thing. When she had thanked him for caring enough to tell the truth. If he was a stronger man, he would stop her. He would stop her and tell her that he was married. Explain about finding his wife in bed with his best friend. He wasn't stronger, though. Not when she was so near. He buries his fingers in her silky hair, tilting her head back. He catches her mouth with his, kissing her with all the pent up emotion he had coursing through him. Her arms twine up around his neck, her fingers lock at the base of his skull.
"It's I should be thanking you," he murmurs against her mouth. "Before you, I was drowning. Life was sucking me under...and you...you were the air I needed. You made me feel alive again. So, it is I who should be thanking you." She stares up at him, smiling. Her eyes were so full of trust. She was falling for him, he could see it. His spirit soars. Good. He was falling for her as well. He needed to tell her the truth, though. He starts to say something, but she presses her fingers against his mouth.
"You make me feel alive, too," she says softly. She steps away from him, blinking slightly, a sweet smile on her face. One by one, she undoes the wooden buttons holding her cream colored sweater closed. As they come undone, a pale pink blouse is revealed. The sweater drops to the floor. Reaching down, she tugs her heels off, tossing them to the side. "You make me feel like I'm special. Like I'm not just a girl in a bar." With shaking fingers, she plucks at the pearl buttons running the length of her short sleeved blouse. She lets it fall off her shoulders, her soft white skin taking on a luminous glow in the soft light illuminating from the lamp he had left on. Slowly, the blouse slides to the floor. "Nobody's ever made me feel special before." Looking down, she unsnaps her jeans, then shimmies out of them. They, too, are tossed to the side. She stands there, wearing only a light blue lace bra and matching panties, a shaky smile on her face.
Meredith could feel her heart pounding. This was the first time she had ever undressed for a man. Usually her clothes came off in a rushed race to the bed, or where ever they were going to have sex. It wasn't easy. Standing there in her underwear, waiting for him to do something, to say something.
"You are so so special, Meredith, don't ever let someone tell you otherwise," he says softly. He pulls her close. Instead of the kiss or the usual groping, he just holds her close. His arms tighten around her, his cheek lay against the top of her head. She lifts her arms, wrapping them around his waist. He kisses the top of her head. "You are special. You...you are not just a girl in a bar." He pushes her back far enough to look down at her. "Don't ever think that about yourself. No. no matter what...don't ever think that you are not special, because you are." He kisses her, so soft and gentle. His hands settle on her waist, then he lifts her, carrying her to the unmade bed. She laughs as they fall back on the bed. "Well, that was impressive," he chuckles.
"It was," she insists. "Really. It was." She smiles up at him, cupping his cheek in her hand. She tugs his face down for a kiss. Their tongues mate as her hands make fast work of his jeans. It didn't take long for them both to be nude. She loved the feel of his warm skin against her's, their two hearts beating as one. He moves away long enough to sheath himself in a condom, before settling over her again. With their eyes connected, he enters her, slowly. She tightens the hold she has on his shoulders, her eyes still locked with his. It wasn't like the other times, where they couldn't get there fast enough. This time it was about the closeness, about being connected. This time was also the first time Meredith had ever made love to a man. She'd had sex more times than she remembered, but had never once made love. Until tonight.
Derek held her in his arms, savoring the feel of her body cuddled up next to his. He had made the decision. They had to talk. He could put it off, but there really was no point. Sighing, he places a kiss on her forehead. "I meant everything I said."
"I know," Meredith smiles, cuddling closer. Her breath tickled his ear.
"When I was telling you about my family...about...about who I am...I forgot something. Someone..." he pauses. "No. Not forgot...I intentionally didn't tell you because I knew...I knew you would...I can't lose you, Meredith. You mean the world to me."
Meredith lifts her head up, a slight frown marring her face. "You mean a lot to me, too." There was confusion in her voice. She props her head up with her hand. "Whatever it is...you can tell me...I'll understand. Unless you have a wife," she teases. "Then I might have to kick your ass." He looks away. She frowns, sitting up. She drags a sheet up over her naked breasts. "Oh God...you...you don't have a wife and kids do you? I mean...I'm...I'm not really a dirty whore, am I? A dirty home wrecking whore?"
"You are not a whore Meredith...and...you didn't wreck my marriage," Derek snaps. 'She shouldn't talk about herself that way' he thinks angrily. She wasn't either of those things. She was smart, beautiful. She made his world a better place. Hell, the world in general was a better place because she was in it.
"Oh my God! Derek!" She cries, backing away from him a bit. Hurt and tears blurred her eyes. Her lower lip trembled. She wraps her arms around her waist, not caring that the sheet had fallen.
"Just...listen. Please. That's all I am asking. That you listen," he pleads. She wanted to run. He could see it in her eyes. She wanted to grab her clothes and run. "Just...listen. No lies. Nothing held back. Please."
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Meredith fights to remain calm. She had found the man of her dreams. Her McDreamy. Only, he wasn't her McDreamy. He belonged to a Mrs., who was in New York. "Five minutes. You...you have five minutes!" She scoots off the bed, standing on trembling legs.
"She cheated on me, Meredith. I came home. Found her in bed with my best friend. My best friend. In my bed. Which had my favorite flannel sheets on it, by the way," he sighs. He wraps the sheet around his waist, following her the mere two feet to the living/kitchen area. She was pulling her clothes on. "What are you doing?"
Meredith doesn't look at him. She couldn't. If she did, she would cave. "What does it look like I am doing?" Her blouse was still damp. It was cold against her skin. She shivers.
"It looks like you're getting ready to run. Did you hear a word I just said?" Derek stands in front of the door. Like hell he was letting her run.
"Your wife fucked your best friend on a pair of fucking flannel sheets. Which, is sad. Really. It is. Wanna know what's even sadder? You. Being more upset about the sheets. That's what's sad." She picks her sweater up, and slides her shoes on. "Move."
"No. My five minutes aren't up yet," he snaps.
She
crosses her arms, not caring that the cold, wet sweater was seeping
through her blouse. "Fine. Take your fucking five minutes! I don't
care.! Nothing you say is going to matter. You lied to me. You lied!
So...take your five minutes...do your best...it isn't going to fix
things!"
"I never lied to you, Meredith. Omitted some of the
truth, yes. Lied, no. I'm not going back to her," he states
firmly.
She laughs. "Right. That's what they all say."
"I'm not other guys. I meant what I said. I'm not going back. You're right. I was more upset about the sheets than her actually cheating. Do you know why? I fell out of love with her. I'm not sure when it happened. Hell, I'm not even sure I ever loved her to begin with. Not the way she deserved. All I know is...I...I am not going back because...dammit...I think I'm falling in love with you! And we owe it to ourselves to find out!"
Meredith stares at him, stunned. She didn't know what to think, what to feel. She looks at the floor, tears running down her cheeks. "How can I ever trust you again?"
Derek tentatively takes her in his arms, pressing her head against his shoulders. "I don't know. You just have to make that choice, I suppose."
She stands there for a moment, her head on his shoulder, breathing slowly. 'He didn't have to tell you,' she tells herself silently. 'He could have kept it a secret. Let his wife show up one day, and then be like, oh here's my wife. He didn't do that though. He told you.' She lifts her head, stares at him for a moment. "My choice?" He nods. "And...and no matter what you'll respect it?" He nods again. She steps away from him, unbuttoning her blouse.
"What are you doing?" he asks, a slight frown on his face.
"I'm cold and I'm wet. Not to mention, finding out my boyfriend has a wife is a bit exhausting. I'm going to bed," she sniffs, shoving her pants down. She trips a bit kicking them and her shoes off.
"You're staying?" He seemed amazed.
"Yes. Just...one thing...No. Wait. Two really." She moves toward the bed, yawning.
"Anything." He would move the heavens and the earth for her.
"I sleep on the right side of the bed, not the left...and...I'm only willing to be a dirty mistress on a temporary basis, so you better find a good divorce lawyer!"
