Complications Chapter 2

Andrew rubbed bloodshot eyes, blinking furiously to bring his laptop screen back into focus. He had been working on the university commencement article for over a week. Unfortunately, he had only managed to scrummage a few nonsensical senses about the esteemed surgeon Meredith Grey. Exhaling, he let a stressful breath flow between gritted teeth. In 5 days, he would fly back to the East Coast to attend his commencement. Then he'd be permanently back in the Emerald City to begin a residency at Seattle General. This thought gave him a bit of excitement; being the honorary doctorate, would Meredith be on the same flight? Would he even have the nerve to speak to her if she was?

A satisfying ping pulled his attention from the task at hand as he hovered the cursor over his inbox. His stomach filled with butterflies, a sense of excitement overcoming him as he read the subject line of the message "Residency Offer – Grey Sloan Memorial, Surgical Program."

Nervously he scanned the letter, soaking in Richard Webber and Miranda Bailey's signatures, gracing the bottom of the page like fluid brushstrokes of abstract art. He took a long drag on the beer he had been nursing and opened a new email message. The liquid courage may not have translated into a productive writing session. Still, the least he could do was thank the woman responsible for this opportunity.

"Dear Dr. Grey,

I am excited to inform you that Grey Sloan Memorial has offered me a last-minute position for their residency program. Albeit a fantastic opportunity, I can't help but wonder if an internal referral strengthened my application.

Nonetheless, I am forever in your debt.

Kind regards,

Andrew Deluca"

With a swift and confident motion, he clicked send and then panicked – what had he done? He doubted residents emailed Dr. Grey, especially, oh god, was it really 1 AM?

Ping.

"Oh fuck" he muttered. She had already responded she must think he was out of his mind.

"It was well earned, Andrew; just don't kill anyone. I am sure we can find plenty of opportunities for you to prove yourself.

Mer"

He gulped, rereading her message. Being a general surgeon, it wasn't unforeseen for her to be up this late, especially if there was a trauma. However, being the chief of general surgery, there was surely a fellow on call that could cover the odd late-night appendectomy. He could feel the beer slowly kicking in, and he blinked his strained eyes to bring the email window back into view. Another distinct ping rang from his computer, and slowly, he hovered over a chat request.

1:03 AM: MGrey: Up late? Writing, I presume?

Staring at the message, he tried to recount the beers he had – one with dinner, another at the hotel bar with a friend who was helping his apartment search, and then the flat half-open bottle sitting on the desk. He was sober, yet this felt like a fever dream.

1:05 AM: ADeluca: How did you know?

1:05 AM: MGrey: Presumed, I hate writing. Need some inspiration? Emerald City Bar. 20-minutes?

He gulped. Did she really want to meet him at a bar at nearly 2 AM? He hesitated. Dr. Grey didn't seem like the kind to pursue a student. However, she dated an attending herself. He brushed the thought off. Surgeons had a warped sense of time anyways; she was probably on call and extending an offer of mentorship. His internal debate was interrupted by another aggressive ping.

1:08 AM: MGrey: I lost a patient tonight and could use a drink. Plus, wasn't liquor Hemmingway's inspiration?

He trembled. It seemed like Meredith was heading to the bar, anyway, probably just looking for company. As glamorous as it was, the life of a surgeon could be quite isolating.

1:10 AM: MGrey: I can fill in any blanks on your article.

1:11 AM: ADeluca: Okay, let me call a cab.

Nervously, he stumbled out of the Uber, the damp air clinging to his skin. A familiar musk of beer and spilt alcohol greeted him as he opened the heavy bar door. Surveying the room, he was disappointed to see Meredith sitting at the bar with a colleague who he presumed to be Alex Karev. Her long fingers clasped his bicep, their faces engrossed in deep conversation. Her piercing blue eyes darted at him peripherally, and she motioned with her head for him to grab a table to the right.

Nodding in response, he awkwardly slid into a booth, a chirpy waitress appearing almost imminently with a glass of water and a coaster. "Last call is at 2 AM, Hun," she drawled, "Are you waiting for someone from the hospital?"

"Ugh, I'm not sure," he stammered, looking over to Meredith. Her blonde waves had fallen over her face, beautifully framing her delicate features. Her lips were still pursued with concern as she stroked Dr. Karev's arm. "Can I … ugh… grab whatever beer is on special tonight?"

"Sure thing, doll, back in a jiffy."

Anxiously he peeled the label of what he presumed to be a local IPA. While doing so, he watched a group of interns, soon-to-be first-year residents, get progressively worse at darts. He could feel the sexual tension between them; it was heavy, filling the room, an erotic smoke, as they danced around each other like exotic birds.

"Now that's not a source of inspiration," a familiar voice laughed. He smelt her before he looked up to meet her gaze. The sweet floral essence of lavender filled the air between them. He opened his mouth to protest; however, Meredith was already flagging down the wait staff.

"How long till last call, Joe?" She bellowed. He couldn't hear the bartender's response over the loud music and intern mania, but Meredith seemed oblivious to the ambiance. "4 tequilas on the rocks, you know, the drill," she gestured between them, "then I will close the tab for this table."

"Excuse me," he choked, taking a drag on his beer.

"My sister has the kids," She paused, "It's a rarity, but we knew this surgery would likely be an all-night-er. If only we had a better outcome, stage 4 pediatric cancer. Dr. Karev is taking it hard. Kids are always the worse. I was just consulting on the case - it just makes you think, though, how impermanent this all is."

He nodded, trying to understand. However, he had been shielded from death as a medical student. He had only seen a few patients pass on his geriatric rotation, but even then, death felt like a welcome blessing.

"I don't get you to understand yet," she smiled, "and it gets easier. I've just always believed it to be important to surround yourself with people after you know. Finding your people when in residency it's important."

Reaching across the table, she pulled his beer from his clasped hands, sending a jolt of electricity through his body as he watched her take a long drink.

"But I digress, Andrew. Tell me about yourself. What brings you to Seattle? Who are you running from, family? An ex-girlfriend?"

"Isn't that an inappropriate question for an attending?" he chuckled, grabbing one of the tequilas that had been placed in front of him.

"I've never really been on to follow program orders, plus I know you didn't come here for the weather" she smiled sheepishly, clacking her glass against his, "cheers."

He studied the map of her face, elegantly creased with age. He loved how small branches formed at the corner of her eyes when she smiled, marks of a woman who has a story, who has seen both the beauty and pain the world has to offer. She maintained eye contact with him during the lapses in conversation, scanning him like a barcode.

"It was an ex-girlfriend," he sighed, nursing the tequila. Meredith had already moved onto her second glass; meanwhile, he felt his head spinning. "That and the ferry boats are kind of cool."

Guiltlessly she swallowed back the second glass of tequila, her eyes narrowing on him. It was a familiar glance, the same one she had given him in her office a week ago. Nervously he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to ignore the sweat pooling at the nape of his neck. Then, without permission, she reached for the third glass, pulling it closer and wrapping her hands around it. He could help but stare at those hands, the power they held. Her hands saved lives, contributed to medical breakthroughs, and kindly sewed buttons only her children's coats. Yet he couldn't shake what it would feel like to have those hands on his thigh, running across his back, tugging at his hair.

"Hmm.." she grinned, his voice cutting the tension between them like a knife, "ferryboats, you say."

Throwing back the third glass of tequila, she folded her coat over her arm and stood up to leave. He followed suit, admittingly struggling to empty his own glass. "Shall we go wait for a cab?"

He nodded, following her out of the bar. The interns were still going strong. They had shifted from darts to clumping into a tiny booth. However, two of them were noticeably absent. A cackle erupted from the men's washroom. Meredith laughed at the look of horror on his face motioning for him to pass through the bar doors.

"You'll learn this place has a reputation with doctors," she grinned, "I met a boy in this bar long ago."

She leaned against the brick wall, exhaling as if she was a smoker, her right leg propped up, revealing a flashy pair of heeled boots. In heels, she was barely his height. He hadn't realized how petite she was. It was even more amazing how so much power was contained in such a small woman. He joined her against the wall, turning his head to face her.

Long fingers reached into his jean pocket, causing an undeniable twitch within his groin. He closed his eyes, oblivious to how she had stolen his phone.

"I hope you don't mind if we share a cab. I left my charger in the on-call room."

He obediently nodded as she called for a cab. However, as she moved to slip the phone back into his pocket, he found that she had moved in front of him. Resting her left arm near his shoulder, she slowly slipped the phone back into his pocket. He could feel his body shiver with anticipation. Then, whispering a subtle "thanks" in his ear, she teased him by pulling away just far enough that she could look him right in the eye.

His legs we beginning to go weak as she hovered in front of him, the intoxicating smell of lavender sending him into a trance. Grinning, she ran he finger down the side of his face, lifting his chin slightly before giving him a gentle kiss. Instinctively his hands found their way to her waist, signalling her to deepen the kiss. He moved to turn the tables and flip her against the wall, but he felt her protest by pushing her knee against his crotch, her weight gently pushing him back into brick. The move of authority made him shudder, a burning ache centring in his core.

A cap honking pulled them apart, and before he knew it, Meredith Grey was pulling him into a cab and rattling off an address to a part of Seattle he knew he couldn't afford.