A/N : I tried something different for this one-shot: extra scenes scattered throughout seasons 16 and 17. It's my wish for what we could have gotten for M/H. I hope the timeline is not too confusing.
Prompt : Meredith and Hayes' friendship grows through phone calls, texts and FaceTime calls. Mostly late at night...
It's mostly dialogue as I tried exercising a new writing muscle. I really enjoyed creating this, and felt like I could have kept writing forever. If you like it and would enjoy reading more pieces like this one (or not), drop a comment.
As usual, thank you for reading. I appreciate everyone's feedback. Hope you all enjoy this experiment.
Hayes: What in the bloody hell is a Sadie Hawkins dance?
Back against her headboard, legs pulled into her chest, the ding of her phone pulls Meredith away from her book. Glancing at the screen, a tiny smile tugs at the corner of her lips. It's been a few days since she exchanged phone numbers with Hayes.
Too curious for her own good, her thumb hovers tensely over his name. They're just starting to get a feel for each other, and realizing that a friendship between them wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
Finally, her intrigued mind overrides her hesitation. Call Hayes.
She doesn't have to wait long for him to answer.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," he says in greeting.
She snorts. "You didn't. I'm literally counting down the minutes until it's respectable for me to go to bed."
He laughs at that. "You're a single parent with three kids! There's no such thing as a respectable time to go to sleep. Take it when you can."
"Speaking from experience?"
"I was a resident when my lads were born. Back then, I practically slept standing."
She shakes her head in commiseration, even though he can't see her. "I can't imagine doing this when I was a resident."
"Well… I wasn't alone. If truth be told, Abigail did most of the heavy lifting."
They lapse into silence; the emotions of the past conjured up at the slightest memory, ready to sneak up on them when they least expect it.
"So who's worried about a Sadie Hawkins dance?" Meredith asks, changing the subject.
Hayes huffs through the phone. "My youngest one. Austin."
"I would think there would be less stress for boys with a Sadie Hawkins."
"Care to tell me what the bloody hell a Sadie Hawkins dance is."
She explains. "The girls ask the boys out."
"Uh... Strange traditions in America."
Meredith chews over Austin's dilemma. "Maybe he's nervous no one will ask him. Being the new kid and all. It's never easy."
Hayes groans. "Am I the worst parent in the world for moving my kids twice in two years?"
"If you are, then so am I." She stays quiet for a beat, letting their similarities sink in. "Look… It's hard enough being a parent when you've got a full support system. But raising kids alone, living through a tragedy and trying to make sense of it…it's hard on the best of us. We do the best we can. I'm sure your boys recognize that."
"God, I hope so." He hesitates to say what's really on his mind. "Did I ever apologize for my piss-poor first impression?"
He hears her sheets rustles as she chuckles. "You did. And I forgave you."
"Good."
Grey: Are you a saint?
This late at night, he wonders if she meant to text him. Or if she's sloshed, perhaps.
Hayes: ?
Grey: How can you work in Peds?
Hayes: You're gonna have to give me more than that, Grey.
Grey: You work with kids! ALL DAY LONG! I'm about ready to commit murder. On my 15-year-old patient.
Hayes: ...
Grey: Probably shouldn't have written that...
He can't suppress the chuckles at the images her words inspire. As his laughter gradually ebbs away, he receives another text.
Grey: Delete this conversation. Don't want the cops to find a trail of evidence leading back to me. Plausible deniability and all that.
She doesn't bother with hellos when he decides to phone her, preferring to dive right in.
"Did I wake you?" She asks.
"No. I couldn't sleep."
He doesn't need to elaborate with her. One of the many things he enjoys about their friendship. Not everything needs to be explained.
"So what's this about a 15-year-old hellion?" Hayes inquires.
"She's asking people on the Internet if she should get life-saving surgery. She doesn't want a scar ruining her bikini body."
He can hear the irritation dripping from Meredith's words.
Mimicking her patient's tone, she says, "'Dr. Grey, I'll never be able to show my face at school with a scar like that.' I mean, is this what teenagers are reduced to now?"
He lets out a much-needed laugh. "Welcome to my world! Where every teenager knows what's best for them, where every problem can be solved by the number of followers they have on the app-of-the-week, where any advice they need can be readily found through said followers."
He snorts, expanding on his point. "You know, we're lucky not to be going through high school right now. Can't imagine navigating all the growing pains on social media and the likes."
She smiles at that. "I don't know... I think you would have been pretty popular," she says coyly.
Even though she can't see it, his cheeks still blush at her words. It feels like flirting to him. It's been so long for him that he's not even sure he recognizes it anymore.
"I did alright for myself," he shares sheepishly.
"I bet... So were you the jock, the musician, the council president, the nerd? Ooh, the goth kid, maybe?"
Her keenness amuses him. "Doesn't every adult try to block out that period of their lives?"
"Probably. I had pink hair in high school."
He tries to imagine her like that, a smile blossoming at the unexpected picture. For the life of him, he wishes he could've known her back then. Before all the tragedies, before all the complications of life.
"Come on. Tell me one thing," she cajoles, breaking his musings.
"Fine... I was pretty quiet back then. Only had a handful of friends, and we pretty much kept to ourselves. I wasn't in a big school. Basically, everyone knew each other."
"Must have been nice," Meredith wonders.
"Sometimes, I suppose. Other times, it would have been grand to be able to have some privacy. To be able to go home and not have your ma know everything that happened before you even had the chance to tell her."
"At least your mother cared enough to want to know." Resentment weaves through her words.
"Hmm. A sore spot, I take it?"
The curiosity in his voice is plain as day. He simply wants to get to know her, but her usual walls rear up, enclosing her heart in a fortress of her own making.
Her silence has him wincing. Maybe he's pushed too far. Before he can apologize or redirect the conversation to safer territory, he strains to hear her whispered words, "It is. A sore spot, that is. My childhood wasn't the best."
A hush settles over them; the only sound to be heard, their breathing.
"Want to talk about it?" He finally offers. He suspects his question is in vain, but he asks all the same...just in case.
"One day."
Hayes: You know you can't let Deluca talk to you like that. Especially at the hospital.
It takes a while before he receives a response. He wonders if he's stepped over the line.
A few hours later, she finally responds.
Grey: I know. It's complicated.
She doesn't bother calling him. She has no desire to hear the disappointment she knows will be drenched in his voice.
Grey: I'll talk to him. But thanks for having my back.
Hayes: Always. You'd do the same.
Grey: I mean... I don't think anyone would ever yell at you.
Hayes: ?
Grey: You've got a bit of a reputation.
Hayes: Enlighten me.
Grey: Well... You're a little intense. Especially for Seattle. You're focused on the job; no nonsense. You don't mingle much, at least not with anyone at the hospital. People think you're not approachable.
Hayes: Is it that bad?
Grey: Nothing that can't be fixed by me. But you could use some friends around the hospital. We're all pretty close. We'll take you out for a drink.
Hayes: I feel like that odd kid in school who has to be held by the hand, and introduced by the teacher to make friends.
Grey: If the image fits...
Hayes: Hilarious.
Grey: You'll be popular in no time.
Hayes: I take it you're something akin to a ringleader around these parts.
Grey: Yes… But don't let Bailey hear you say that!
Grey: Are you free?
Hayes: Aye. Now?
In a matter of seconds, his phone vibrates with an incoming call.
"You're officially the Head of Peds!"
He's not sure how to respond to that statement. Or her heated tone. He can practically hear her seething through the line.
He decides to tread lightly. "Wasn't I already? Or was I on a probationary period I wasn't aware of?"
She releases a loud breath she feels like she's been holding all day, trying to calm her anger. "I...I mean, there's no more co-Chief in front of your title. Just Chief."
He stretches out his words, "Alright... And I gather that's a bad thing. Because..."
"Your other co-Chief left me! Just up and disappeared. He 'Dear John'ed me."
Finally, the truth explains her mood. "Ah. I'm sorry?"
The uncertainty in his voice deflates her. "Shit! I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't be unloading on you. I'm happy for you. I'm just so—"
"Sad he's gone," he finishes for her. "Understandable."
"I can't believe he just wrote me a letter to tell me. Didn't even say goodbye to the kids."
"Maybe it was too painful for him? Maybe he thought it would be easier on him. And you. Maybe he thought you'd try to convince him to stay."
"Ugh! That's what he said. Why are you so reasonable?"
His light chuckle rumbles through the phone. "Isn't that why you called? To get an outsider's perspective?"
"NO! I just needed to vent, and for someone to be on my side."
"Alright, I can do that. Karev, what a right arsehole!"
She snickers despite the tears glistening in her eyes, a long-forgotten elevator moment surfacing in the deep recesses of her memories. He hears her chuckles turn into light sniffling.
"You're really sad about this, eh?"
"He and I were the last ones left of the original five interns. I don't know how to work at the hospital without him." She pauses, exhaling a hurried breath before admitting, "I don't know if I want to work there without him."
"What was it like when Yang left?"
"Devastating at first. Like losing a limb. But it was different. Derek was still here. Alex was still here. Now there's no one left. No one to vent to, no one to commiserate with, no one to make me laugh, no one who knows all my secrets."
She adds, "I'm the last one standing, and it doesn't feel like a victory. Not like I thought it would." Her last few words come out faintly, her voice cracking.
"It feels lonely, eh?"
She hiccups through her tears, nodding even though he can't see her. He takes her grumble as a yes.
"Even with a hospital full of people ready to defend your honour; some who even worship the ground you walk on." She thinks he coughs Helm under his breath, to break the solemn mood. "It can be the most isolating feeling in the world—to be surrounded by people and still feel alone."
He clears his throat, a hopeful tone infusing his voice. "Maybe there's room for new friends in your life?"
Her breath hitches, temporarily robbed of the ability to exhale. A deafening silence follows, and he worries he's pushed too far.
Instead of answering his question, her ensuing words veer them completely off course.
"Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if your wife hadn't gotten sick?"
Sucking in a sharp gasp, her query sends his mind into a tailspin. Quiet stretches for an agonizingly long time, all the more noticeable during a phone call.
"Did I overstep? Shit, I'm sorry," she apologizes, shattering the fraught tension of the moment.
He reassures her. "No. You didn't overstep. I was just caught off guard, is all. Don't know where that came from."
"You don't have to answer. It kind of just popped into my head. You asked about making new friends. So I was wondering if we would have ever met if not for our circumstances."
Hayes doesn't think he's ever heard Meredith Grey sound so shy. Her words come out jumbled, her voice low and hesitant.
"If Abigail hadn't gotten sick, I'd be back in Boston, nauseatingly happy with my carefree wife. The lads would probably still be causing us headaches, though. Abby had a way with them, but I reckon even she would have grown a few grey hairs during their teenage years." He snickers at the image, lightening the mood before admitting, "I don't think we'd have met."
"You're probably right," Meredith agrees.
He adds, "But sometimes, we meet people at the exact right time we're supposed to—at the time we need them the most."
She doesn't need to see his face to grasp the intensity of his words.
"What about you? What would your life be like if your husband hadn't died?"
A heavy lump forms in her throat. She swallows it painfully before answering, "I... I don't know, honestly."
It takes a lot for her to divulge that. A piece of her heart fractures at the revelation. The overwhelming guilt...never voiced, never even whispered. Words that live in the dark corners of her soul.
Hayes lets her words lie between them, understanding that she's coming to terms with some crushing truths.
"We weren't in a great place for a couple of years before he died. I was just starting to get my groove as an attending. He promised he would take a step back so I could flourish." She snorts, recalling all their fights. "But then, he got a call from the President to lead a brain mapping initiative. The opportunity of a lifetime, I get it. But I was so resentful. He wanted to move the whole family to D.C. to run the project."
By now, she's just rambling. "We fought. A lot! I was selfish. He was selfish. Some other stuff happened while he was in D.C. We finally found our way back to each other right around the time he died. So to answer your question, I just don't know where we'd be if he was still alive."
"Marriage dynamics are never easy to navigate."
"Especially with competing priorities. I was a lot younger than him. He was my whole world, you know?"
"I do," he murmurs emphatically, voice breaking. "I really do."
He might be the only person to say that to her she actually believes. He never tries too hard because he gets it. It lives in the wrinkles in his skin and the scars on his heart.
Hayes: It's a grand thing you did today. Even with all the hiccups...
Reclined in her bathtub, his text lightens her mood after a trying day. A surgery schedule that just wouldn't cooperate, Richard refusing to operate, Andrew spiralling, too many patients to fit into one lone pro bono day.
Meredith: I'm too tired to decipher your tone. Is that a thinly veiled insult masquerading as a compliment?
Instead of an answering text, her phone rings with an incoming call from him. She answers, putting him on speaker.
"It wasn't meant as a slight," he promises in lieu of a greeting.
She scoffs. "It was a disaster. On every level."
"It was your first go at it. These things take time to iron out the kinks. Next time, get more help to organize."
"Are you volunteering?" She asks, somewhat hopefully.
"If you want me to."
"I'll take all the help I can get. I really don't want a repeat of today. It felt like trying to steer a sinking ship."
"Well, I particularly enjoyed seeing Dr. Koracick's face when you unilaterally decided to offer pro bono surgeries once a month."
His airy chuckle lightens the load tormenting her shoulders.
"Between you and me, it was also kind of the highlight of my day. How pathetic is that?"
"Listen... Sometimes, even with the best intentions, things can go off the rails in a hurry. You tried to do an amazing thing for people," he reminds her. "Long after you've forgotten about them, they'll cherish the gift you've given them for the rest of their lives. We'll learn from this experience and do better next time."
He hears water sloshing through his phone. "What's that noise?"
"Umm... Just background noise. You might be on speaker."
Suspicion blooms in his voice.
"What kind of background noise?"
"I might...possibly be in the bathtub." The way she says it is borderline flirtatious.
A groan vibrates through her ear. "You're killing me, Meredith."
Her husky laugh reassures him; he didn't cross the invisible line between them.
"You'll survive," she teases.
For once, he's grateful they're not face to face. She'd be having a field day with the mortifying flush overtaking his features.
Meredith: I'm bored.
Propped up in her bed, she doesn't have to wait long for him to read her text. In a matter of minutes, her phone is ringing in her hands, a FaceTime call from Hayes.
His beaming, relaxed face appears, giving her the boost she's been craving. Sitting on the couch in his office, he reclines, resting his head against the backrest.
"You don't know how good it feels to see your smile again," Hayes says, settling in.
Her grin deepens at his words. "I didn't pull you away from anything, did I?"
"Just endless paperwork. Even COVID can't stop it from piling up."
"I'd KILL to be back at work," she whines, doing her best childlike pout. If she were standing, she's not so sure her foot wouldn't be stomping the floor in a perfect imitation of Ellis.
A teasing glint sparkles in his eyes. "And now I have to keep you entertained even though you jilted the whole hospital at your clap-out?"
"You hold on to grudges, I see. I'll have to remember that."
God, he's really missed talking to her.
Struggling to contain the laughter pushing to break free, he needn't bother. His smirking, blue eyes give him away. "What's got you so bored? I would think a house with 3 young ones would be chaotic."
"It is. When they're not doing online school." Eyes trained down, she bites her lips, before releasing a breath. "But when they are or when they're asleep, it's hard. I've never been good with this much quiet. It's..."
"It's what?" He urges softly.
"Unsettling," she says, bleakness flickering in her features. "It's unsettling to just be alone with my thoughts. Especially after what I've just been through."
He lets her revelation rest for a minute, his expression softening to provide any comfort he can. Phone screen be damned.
"Have you talked to Pierce? Or Shepherd?"
She shakes her head. "I already ask too much of them. I don't want to burden them with that, on top of everything else."
"Well, I'd be glad to offer Irene as a ritual sacrifice to cure your boredom. Wouldn't mind getting her out of the house."
A much-needed laugh escapes her chest. "I'll keep that generous proposition in mind. How's everything at the hospital?" She asks.
"Reinvigorated. Restored. Haven't seen morale this high around here in God knows how long."
What is left unsaid is why. Any COVID recovery boosts the staff's spirits, but hers... Well, hers might as well have ignited the flame that had long burnt out.
She rewards him with a blinding smile. "I'm glad."
Some nights, she still struggles to make sense of the world she woke up to. Some days, it seems like their momentum has come to a screeching halt, destined to be locked in a perpetual tiptoe. But on nights like tonight, her worries evaporate.
Meredith: So...they postponed the wedding! Want some leftover cake tomorrow?
Hayes: I'm going to need you to elaborate. And yes, I'll never turn down cake.
Late into the night after Maggie's non-wedding, hopped up on sugar and champagne, Meredith is feeling bold. Unlocking her phone, she decides to FaceTime Hayes from bed. As luck would have it, he answers from the comfort of his own bed. Quirking an eyebrow, he clearly notices their circumstances.
"Getting comfortable, are we?" He asks.
Lips curving to one side, her smirk matches the mischief glittering her eyes. "Long day. Eventful and uneventful, if that makes sense."
"What happened?"
"We set up my whole backyard. Flowers everywhere, champagne, cake and everything. Maggie looked beautiful."
"So what was the problem?"
"Maggie's dad and Winston's grandmother weren't having it. They interrupted right in the middle of the whole thing! Convinced them to wait to have a real wedding."
"That's sweet, actually."
"I guess...but now I have a huge cake in my house with three kids addicted to sugar."
He barks out laughing. "Ah! So you need me to take some off your hands to save your little ones?"
"I'd appreciate it. You'd be saving my kids from certain sugar comas."
"Before I say yes, answer me this... Did you bake said cake?" He asks, a grin tugging at his lips.
Her eyes open wide at his teasing insult. "Rude!"
He covers his mouth with his hand to smother a well-meaning laugh. "I've heard stories."
She grumbles, "To answer your question...no, I didn't bake it."
"That's reassuring."
She pouts in annoyance. "Well, now I don't know if you deserve any."
"Think about the children, Meredith. Yours, mine..." he pleads in jest.
"Mm-hmm. You don't even wanna know what kind of cake?"
"My lads will eat anything."
She chuckles at that. It feels nice talking to him like this, like he's right next to her. Her bed doesn't feel so lonely.
"Pierce wasn't too disappointed?" Hayes asks.
"I think she was more exasperated by all the changes. But probably a little relieved. The idea of having an actual reception, with friends and family, cheered everyone up. Especially the kids."
The glint in her eyes warns him of teasing to come. "Honestly, Winston was the one who was disappointed. Way to conform to gender norms, Hayes! The woman disappointed..."
An eye roll follows her words, a grin tugging at his lips. "I apologize. Profusely. Can you ever find it in your kind heart to forgive me for such a misstep?"
Snort-like giggles bubble out of her. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"
"No such thing, according to all the advice I've ever received from the women in my life," he replies.
Meredith taps her index finger to her chin in pretend contemplation. "Well, I'll consider it if you describe your last surgery. In great detail. Don't skip over anything."
He blinks several times, before quirking an eyebrow. "What is this? Adult bedtime story?"
"You don't understand how deprived I've been."
"Feels like something an addict would say," he notes light-heartedly. "Not sure I should feed that beast."
Adopting her best doe eyes, her cajoling tone warms his heart, "Please? For me?"
His shoulders sag a little, the acknowledgement that he has no willpower when it comes to her demands. Her victorious, knowing smile pulls at his heartstrings. She settles down in bed, head resting on her pillow, burrowed deep under her blanket with her phone propped up on a pillow.
As he starts, she closes her eyes, basking in the soothing sensation of his bone-melting tone. She can practically feel his voice caressing her body. She interrupts him to ask questions when she wants more details, as if she's a student in his operating room.
As his detailed recap winds down, he stares at her leisurely. She finally opens her sleepy eyes, a whisper of a smile playing on her lips.
"Thank you," she rasps out.
"You're welcome. Now, get some rest."
Before he can hang up, a relaxed sigh exits her lungs. Eyes wide open now, she murmurs against her pillow. "Sometimes...late at night...I replay our conversations in my head."
A faint look of surprise flashes across his face.
She continues, "I know these last few months haven't been easy on you. The memories it dredged up, the time it robbed us of. Sometimes, I think we'll never get back to the rhythm we had before, but..." Her words hang in the air between them. Be patient. We'll get there. Together.
His eyes soften as he studies her, clearly grasping her insinuations. Unspoken awareness passes between them; their gazes loaded with promise and yearning.
She's come to cherish the rare gift he's given her; the absolute confidence that she can open up to him about anything, at any given moment—good or bad. Free of judgment, free of countless opinions, free of quick fixes because he knows there are none. Words just tumble out of her whenever she's around him. It strikes her as odd for someone who evaded any hint of emotional connections for so long.
As Meredith has come to realize, nothing ever feels off limits with Hayes. She doesn't know exactly when that started. Looking back at all their previous conversations, it's hard to pinpoint the exact instance when things between them deepened so dramatically. In retrospect, it's not just one moment, but a collection of moments that built and redefined their relationship.
He catches her trying to stifle a yawn. "Go on. Get some sleep, Meredith. I'll call you tomorrow."
"I look forward to it," she says, hope dripping from her words. And for once, she basks in it, no longer feeling compelled to run away.