Innocent and in a trance
A dance that lasted for a while oh
Read my eyes just like a diary
Oh remember, please remember oh oh
Well I'm not a beggar, but what's more
If I hurt you then I hate myself
I don't want to hate myself, don't want to hurt you
The first thing I hear is music, The Clash specifically, and I immediately burrow deeper under my comforter and yell at Izzie to turn it off. With some swear words added, of course. The next thing I hear is a strained, off-key voice singing into my ear-a voice that's low and definitely not Izzie. When I crack open one eye blearily I see Derek, smiling at me through the chorus of Should I Stay or Should I Go.
"You should go," I mumble into my pillow, pulling my other pillow over my ears to block the noise and turning away from him.
"Aw, come on Mer," he laughs, moving to my stereo and pressing pause, "you didn't think I forgot about our date, did you?"
He pulls the blinds, sending light in violently and causing my eyes to screw back shut. He joins me on the bed and I stubbornly push him back, clutching my pillow tighter to my ear.
"You ignored me for two days," I say, still keeping my face buried in my pillow.
"I was getting ready," Derek says, like it's the most obvious explanation in the world.
"Don't screw with me at seven in the morning."
He chuckles and I open my eyes to find him staring back at me with glittering blue eyes.
"I was getting ready for our date."
"For two days?"
"Yes."
"But…you ignored me. You didn't request me, or flirt with me in the elevator, or give me the look…"
"I knew I'd give myself away," he replies simply, shrugging and bending closer to shift hair away from my eyes, "and I know how you love surprises."
"I hate surprises," I groan, a wave of nausea hitting me unexpectedly. I throw the comforter off me hastily and run for the bathroom. He follows me but I slam the door, hearing a low grunt of pain. I don't want him to see me like this, not when we possibly have a date later tonight. It's a rule; never let a guy see you throwing up in the bathroom twelve hours before you go on a date with him. It ruins the whole kissing thing.
He's banging on the door while I'm hunched over, and when I go to wipe my face on a hand towel the knocking gets worse. I turn on the shower to help drown him out. The water's so hot it burns my skin and I press my hand to my face to try and stop the aching cold. I can see Derek's worried face through the wood of the door, the wrinkles creasing his forehead.
--
An hour later I open the door and Derek topples onto my feet-he's been sitting outside the door waiting for me. There's a Hello Kitty bandage on his nose and my face softens as he scrambles to his feet awkwardly.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine," I grit, my face still tinged green and drawn. The worried look, the one I imagined would be carved on his face is staring back at me, "You?"
He touches his nose tenderly, smiling a small smile.
"Sore. And no you're not. Car. Now."
"Derek, I'm fine. Now leave me alone."
"Did I not explain why I haven't talked to you in two days? I'm sorry, but I was planning, and it's going to be-"
"Was," I interrupt, "It was going to be amazing but look at me!"
"Car, now," he orders again, holding my shoulders and ignoring my protests of a repeated 'look at me!'. I feel ashamed just to be going out in public like this. When I have my arms crossed in the passenger seat of Derek's car, though, I realize that he's taking me to a place where no one cares what I look like; he's taking me to the hospital.
"Derek Shepard you are not taking me to the hospital because of nausea. It happens every morning and-"
"Stop. I haven't been there for you and I want to get it checked out, just in case," he pleads, "For me?"
I let a sigh escape my lips and slump down so much that I can barely see out the window. He glances at me quickly, smiling again. I can't understand why he's smiling so much lately.
Another wave hits when Derek swerves into a parking space by the entrance and I have to claw out while the car's still on to empty what's left of my stomach onto the decorative hospital gardens. I feel warm hands rub circles on my back and lead me through the sliding glass doors. He takes care of everything, talking to the receptionist, filling out papers, consulting the doctor while I stare vacantly at the wall. This is becoming a regular occurrence for me.
It takes a while to register that my doctor's addressing me.
"Meredith?"
"Yes?"
"I'm calling Chief Sloane to arrange for you to have the day off. Take this medication," she says while scribbling out a prescription in chicken-scratch handwriting, "every day twice a day. That should help the nausea."
"Thanks," I say, accepting the slip of paper because I'm too exhausted to argue.
"See you tomorrow, for the treatment?"
"Yep."
Derek and my doctor exchange a few more words, Derek's tone hushed and concerned while the doctor speaks calmly back. We leave, Derek stopping to help me back into my coat.
When we get back to the parking lot Derek has a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face.
"What?" I snap.
"Now we can have our date," he exclaims, "and you don't… you know…have to dress up or anything."
I laugh, opening my car door and climbing in.
"It's okay Derek Shepard, you can admit that I'm not the hot intern you once knew."
"Don't worry Meredith Grey," he assures, "you'll always be hot to me."
"Good," I answer, tilting my chin to one side and opening the passenger door self-satisfactorily, "but I still need the full six hours ahead to look presentable."
AN: Undergoing MAJOR writers block here-hence the not-so-good chapter. But, still, I have some idea about where the 'date' will be heading. I hope. But it may change. Review!!
Song is Your Winter by Sister Hazel