A/N : I decided to write a part 2 to my New Year's Eve prompt. I know this fandom is still small, so I hope this helps those who like me, crave more fics for this couple. Thank you for reading and hope you all enjoy :)
Oh, God! This seriously cannot be happening again! Meredith thinks as she races down the halls, huffing and puffing like an out-of-shape couch potato—with COVID-recovering lungs, no less. Hayes is going to be so ticked off. How could he not be? She's finally made the first overture, and now she's late. Stupid interns! Who doesn't know how to put in a central line? After the year they've lived through? Seriously? UGH! Practically had to hold their hand through the whole thing. Useless, all of them.
She texted Hayes to let him know, but she can't tell if he's read it. Stupid man... Mysterious even in texts! He should come with an instruction manual, detailing all his different moods and quirks.
Her shift is mercifully done, her completed charts passed over to the night team. Her phone is on silent; her kids are snuggled in bed, having celebrated the turn of the year with her on Zoom hours earlier. This is happening. No more interruptions. Rounding the corner, she hurries those last few steps even more before bursting into the attendings' lounge.
"I'm here! I'm here!" Meredith exclaims, panting like she's just run—and lost—a marathon. She rests her hands on her thighs, inhaling big gulps of air.
Eyes wide at the abrupt entrance, Hayes stands quickly, rushing over to her. "I can see that! What's wrong? Why are you so out of breath? Are you okay?" His eyes scan her quickly from head to toe, assessing every inch of her body. Not finding anything out of sorts except for her rapid breathing, he turns his inquisitive gaze back to hers, pleading for an answer.
"I ran here. I didn't want you to think I wasn't..." Her voice breaks off sharply, not wanting to air out all her insecurities.
Understanding dawns on him, however. Mouth hooking to one side at her adorable—and unexpected—fluster, he replies, "You texted me... I knew you were coming."
Eyes narrowing, she snorts, "But you didn't answer."
He shrugs nonchalantly. "I didn't think it required a response."
What was she saying? Stupid men.
Fighting off an amused smile, Hayes pulls a chair for Meredith to sit. "You can't be gallivanting about like you used to. You should really take it easy."
She waves him off. "I'm okay. Just need to catch my breath. My lungs aren't a hundred percent yet."
Hayes nods, heading over to the makeshift kitchen cabinet to grab two glasses. "Considering where you were just a few months ago, it's...it's amazing how far you've come, truly. It's a testament to your grit."
Blushing, never one for excessive praise, she mumbles under her breath, "Thanks."
"Why were you late anyway?" He asks, as he places the glasses on the table before moving towards his cubby to retrieve the bottle of whiskey.
Dragging a hand through her loose hair, she practically whines, "Incompetent interns! What else?"
Hayes can't help himself. Boisterous laughter fills the room at her disgruntled expression.
"It wasn't so long ago that you were once there yourself, you know."
She rolls her eyes at the Irishman. "Never! I was never THAT incompetent."
"Mmhmm," hums an amused Hayes, playful skepticism crossing his features.
"I wasn't!" She shoots back, voice booming.
He purses his lips tightly, attempting to control the wry grin fighting to break free. "Guess it must have been someone else who once dropped a kidney on the OR floor..."
Her head rears back as shock floods her body. Eyes wide, she sputters, "Who...who told you about that?"
"Might have been a know-it-all cardio surgeon bragging about being the best," he confirms.
Meredith rolls her eyes, shaking her head in mock exasperation at the mention of her best friend. "It could have happened to anyone."
"No need to convince me. I believe you," he chuckles out.
"You better!" She says jokingly, pointing her index finger at him. "I'll remind you this is MY house."
Eyes dancing with mirth, he mimics a zipped mouth motion before promising, "My lips are sealed."
She sighs, "Fine, you got me. The interns might not be hopeless. Anyway, you ready to ring in the New Year?"
The bottle held gently in one hand, reverently even, he can't help expressing his gratitude for the thoughtful gift. "Thanks again for this. It's...it's a nice touch of home. Especially now."
"You don't have to open it right away if you don't want to. We can crack open the tequila if you prefer to save the whiskey for a special occasion."
"I think this qualifies, don't you?" He notes, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Celebrating a new year, after the hell we've lived through. Appreciating being alive to enjoy it. Embracing the challenges we've faced, commemorating the little joys in life, looking ahead to a brighter future...with a good friend."
"Hmm. Friends...is that all we are?" She boldly wonders, no longer scared to push her own boundaries, nor his.
Flush inching up his cheeks, he stares at her for a beat, sensing that invisible thread stretched tight between them loosening. The blissful smile he unveils softens his entire appearance as he confesses, "Not for long, I predict."
Flames dance in the depths of their expressive eyes as they continue to gaze at each other, letting the moment sink it. The moment they've built up for far too long in their minds, the moment they both fear can't possibly live up to their eager expectations.
Glancing away, lest he chickens out, he opens his gifted bottle and pours them both a generous portion.
Each raising their respective tumblers, preparing to clink them together, Hayes asks, "What are we toasting to? Any New Year's resolution?"
"Surviving another year? Not collapsing in another parking lot?" Meredith answers, in jest.
"Is that all? I imagine we can do better than that," he snickers.
Eyes beckoning, promises of a shared future lingering in their shadows, she offers, "To new beginnings?"
The whisper of a wish-filled smile tugs at the corner of his lips. It's been a fairly long time since he's felt hopeful. And yet, in this instant, his faith has never felt stronger, even in these dark times, even after tragedy upon tragedy. Hayes clinks his glass to hers, affirming, "To new beginnings."
They tip their tumblers back, bringing them up to their lips to take a much-deserved sip. Hayes moans as the spirit glides down his throat, savouring the trace of that heavenly burn. His enjoyment is interrupted by the ever-so snarky general surgeon at his side.
"Honestly can't tell the difference between this and a 50 dollar bottle of whiskey at Joe's," she jokes, mouth twisting to the side in a teasing grin.
"Blasphemy, you neophyte! Why would you even say that to me?"
"To see how cute you are when you get all riled up," she giggles.
He sighs before smirking, her unbridled enthusiasm a salve to his pummeled heart. God, she's beautiful like this. It's been too long since he's heard her memorable chortle. He could finally admit to himself that for a while, he was terrified they'd never reach this point. Deluca, COVID, vents and comas, their respective twisted histories... It felt so nice to no longer live with that dread hanging over him.
As her laughter fades, Meredith checks her phone. "Two minutes 'til midnight. Any final resolutions before the clock strikes?"
"Be more grateful for what I have, for what's right in front of me... And go after what I want. You?"
"To torture myself less," she declares wistfully.
"That's a good one. When's that resolution starting?"
"Right now." She beams, locking gazes with him—ensnaring him, really—leaving no room for confusion. This is happening...as it was always supposed to, virtually written in the stars for them by nosy friends.
She knows. Deep down, once she discovered Cristina had a hand in his presence at Grey-Sloan Memorial, Meredith knew her fascination with Hayes wasn't a coincidence. She knew this moment would come eventually. And for once, she doesn't fight it. She embraces it, trusting her gut—and her person's judgment.
Meredith approaches Hayes like she would a frightened child—slowly at first to not spook him. He moves back, planting himself on the top of the table, guiding her to stand between his legs so they can stand at eye-level.
He gathers her in his arms, settling his hands on her hips, a cherished, caressing touch that sends her heart hurtling off a precipice. God, she's missed this. The effortlessness, the intimacy, the butterflies. And the one thing she's fought so hard to get back…that feeling of home.
Doubts rise, as they inevitably do with a renowned tortured soul like herself. And yet, somehow, at this very instant, the years of tension, of uncertainty, drift away at last. Her body and mind at home in his soft hold, much more than she expected.
With others, the comparison to before plagued her incessantly—unfairly, even—always lurking in the back of her mind, ready to pummel her at the slightest hint of disparity. But with Hayes, the never-ending shadows dissipate. All that's left is the comfort, the understanding, the unexpected passion he provokes in her, the ever-elusive trust... She welcomes the free abandon like a breath of fresh air after drowning for so long—the reckless sensation of actually living in the moment. The usual nerves wash away, and all she feels is sweeping relief. The relief that their time has finally come; no longer a maybe, but a reality.
"Wasn't sure we'd ever get here, honestly," he finally permits himself to admit out loud, mirroring her thoughts as he so often does.
"I'm sorry it's taken this long."
He shakes his head, absentmindedly circling patterns at the small of her back. "Don't be. I probably wouldn't have been ready before."
Suppressing a quiver of uncertainty, Meredith's voice drops as she asks, "Is this still your first?"
She thinks it is, but who knows what happened while she was down for the count. She hopes nothing has changed for him. But so much has transpired in such a short period of time...and feelings can change at the drop of a hat.
His gaze is penetrating, sprinkled in with a tinge of bashfulness. "Aye...this is my first," he finally shares. He runs his hands up and down her back, soothing their nerves.
Skin prickled in delight at his strokes, she rasps out, "Are you sure about this? No pressure."
He gently pulls her closer to him, her body obeying without hesitation. She fits so snugly against him, he can't help but notice. "I've never been more sure," he promises, willing her weathered heart to understand.
Her hands are splayed across his shoulders, her fingers kneading them back and forth. Sparked by her touch, warmth spreads throughout his body as he teasingly wonders, "Are you? Kind of feels like you're trying to convince yourself?"
She lightheartedly slaps his shoulder as she coyly says, "I'm here, aren't I?" In truth, she wants nothing more than for his mouth to brush up against hers—hungers for it, really—her eagerness a welcomed ray of light after an eternity in the dark.
She licks her lips, trying desperately to control her stuttering heartbeat. They've never been this close. His gaze drops to her mouth, focusing intently, as lust fills his eyes. His hands perform a slow dance up her back, traveling all the way to her shoulders and neck, before both his palms finally reach her face, sliding across her cheeks.
Brushing tendrils of hair away from her eyes, Hayes cups her cheeks, admiring the unimpeded view of her desire. His fingertips brush lightly against her silky skin, his thumbs inching ever so slowly towards her mouth, circling the edges, tormenting her. Hovering, grazing, and finally...stroking her lower lip.
Not one to be outdone, Meredith grips the back of his neck, clinging to him—practically dragging his face within an inch of her own, the wait no longer amusing to her. Her lips linger above his, suspended for a moment, tempting him. Shallow breaths escape her lungs, the frenzied anticipation—the craving—almost too much to bear. She needs this. And she wants to remember this—their first kiss. Her eyes scrutinize every minute detail of his awed expression, committing it all to memory. A hurricane couldn't force her to look away.
This moment—in the safety of his strong arms—burrows itself into her heart and soul. It's been a long time since she's felt this valued, this taken care of.
Pulled by the imperceptible string between them, she sinks into him, almost every inch of their bodies converging. She drapes one arm around his shoulder, the other drawing up the back of his head as she leans into him.
As tension hangs in the air, she can nearly taste his warm breath. At long last, their lips touch, tentatively at first, before melding together perfectly, blazing away any reservations. The volcanic eruption consuming her chest is unavoidable, the crackling heat reverberating all the way down to her toes.
He takes his time, exploring her lips to his heart's content. Feather-light to start, like he's afraid she might disappear at a moment's notice, and then, more fervently. She bites down on his lower lip, teasing him, guiding him cautiously towards what she truly desires. Ever in sync with her needs, his tongue finally seeks entrance to claim her completely. Her mouth falls open, a rush of sensations washing over her as his tongue gently tangles with hers.
His hands travel to her lower back, grazing the peeking skin below her shirt. Flames burn through her at the unexpected contact, his careful ministrations a master class in igniting her feverish body. She digs her nails into the toned muscles of his back as his tongue continues its sensual tango with hers, their perfect rhythm a refreshing—and appreciated—delight.
He tugs on her hair, tilting her head up, desperate to drop kisses along her jaw and discover every inch of her. He turns his attention to her neck, nibbling on her taut skin, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Her entire body shivers, the experience overwhelming for her brain. It's been so long since she's felt this good.
He just can't seem to get enough of her, especially after the agonizing foreplay of the last year. He finds her lips once again, like a magnet drawn to metal. His spine tingles with every scorching stroke they share. She deepens the kiss, grasping the back of his scrub shirt for support as their tongues collide roughly once again. Every nip, every embrace, electrifying her with enough light to power a city.
Panting languorously, she softens the kiss, painstakingly dragging her lips from his as the pesky lack of air grudgingly gets in the way. Amazing, she repeats like a mantra. That's about all the brain power her spinning mind can conjure up at the moment. Chest heaving, a frustrated moan escapes Hayes' lips at the unwanted separation. He desperately tries to follow her retreating mouth to steal another kiss.
Their foreheads press together, eyes still shut, etching the moment to memory. Her knees buckle under the intensity of her feelings, like a teenager experiencing their first kiss. For all the emotions swirling inside her, it might as well have been. Hayes tightens his grip around her waist to steady her, lucky to be seated himself.
Neither of them ready to let go, she nuzzles his flushed neck, laying tender kisses against his erratic pulse despite her own ragged breathing. Their rapid heartbeats come together to settle down, their roving arms engulfing one another in a tight hug. She can't help but be endeared by this part of him—this out of control, primal side. Seeing him come undone is a glorious sight. It's so unlike him, usually so strait-laced.
As time lapses, he tips her chin up with one hand as the other remains wrapped around her waist, keeping her firmly against him. Finally, she opens her eyes to find him gazing at her in wonder. They stare...simply stare at each other for a beat...a clear awareness passing between them as smiles illuminate their features, their grins a welcomed fixture. They'll figure the rest out together, she realizes, worry floating away for the first time in a long while.
"Happy New Year," she says, exhilaration lacing her tone. They hadn't even noticed the clock striking midnight. Heck, they were lucky no one had interrupted them.
"Happy New Year, Meredith."
Unexpected pleasure washes over her at hearing her given name finally cross his lips in his smooth Irish lilt. She slants her head to the side in contemplation. "Meredith… Hmm... It's the first time you've called me that... I like it," she confesses, a pink blush tinting her cheeks.
"I reckon we've earned it, yeah?"
"No arguments here," she agrees, a smirk unfolding at his confidence. She hopes it's not short-lived, buoyed by the adrenaline and endorphins.
Meredith scans his face for signs of guilt. "Any regrets?" She wonders aloud. She honestly doesn't know what she'll do if he says yes.
With an unrestrained glimmer in his eyes, he can't help teasing her a little, flashing her a wink, "None that I can think of now. Get back to me tomorrow."
He chuckles as she playfully slaps him once again, on his back this time. He nestles his nose in her hair, intoxicated by her flowery scent.
She grumbles against his ear, "I hate you."
Pulling back to fix her with a heated gaze, quirking a defiant brow, he whispers against her lips, "That kiss didn't feel like you hated me…Meredith."