3. Toxic

She knew it shouldn't have happened a second time.

Or a third.

Or fourth.

Or… well…

But every time Mark's hands roamed over her, she couldn't think straight. Of course, it may have had something to do with the seemingly endless supply of scotch in his cabinet.

"You have quite an impressive amount of alcohol, Dr. Sloan," she teased later that week as she took out another bottle and poured herself some more.

He shrugged as he got up from the couch (they hadn't made it to the bed this time) and pulled on his boxers. "Pour me one, too, will you?"

She handed him a glass and he grimaced as he took a gulp. "Ah. Refreshing."

"Why do you think doctors drink so much?" she asked thoughtfully as she tied her hair back in a bun.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure all doctors drink as much as ourselves."

"Probably not," she agreed.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was – they both drank for the same reason.

"So you're staying here for good?" she asked, walking back into the living room and scanning the floor for her sweater.

He nodded. "I like the hospital. I like the city. I even kind of like the interns." He gave her a reckless smirk.

She located her top and slipped it over her head. "This particular intern has to be in for pre-rounds in a few hours."

"You could stay here," he offered. "I'll give you a ride. I'll even drop you off a block away so no one sees us walk in together," he said with a smile. "Even though it kills me that you're so ashamed of me."

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up." She shoved her feet into her shoes and grabbed her bag. "I'll see you at the hospital."

"You're sexually harassing me, do you know that?" Mark called after her, and she couldn't help laughing as she opened the door and walked out.

But she couldn't help thinking that Mark's sense of humor was exactly like Derek's. He made her laugh the same way.

And then she wondered if that was really such a terrible thing.

- - - - -

It was a slow day at the hospital, and those were the days she found the hardest. When she wasn't busy she ended up paying a little too much attention to Derek's scruffy sneakers, or to Addison's perfect hair, or to the way Mark expertly avoided her eyes when they talked in front of others.

She was painfully aware of the position she'd managed to get herself into – this strange game between three powerful doctors that probably had an even more complicated history than she'd realized.

"Grey, I need those post-op notes by noon." Mark suddenly appeared in front of her, barking orders in his typical 'hotshot surgeon' voice.

She nodded, holding out her hand as he handed her the clipboard. "Sure."

"And Grey?"

"Yes, Dr. Sloan?" she asked.

"You better be on call tonight," he said in a low voice.

They both knew what he meant by 'on call.' She just nodded.

It wasn't McDreamy, that was for sure. But it was something. It was better than bottles of tequila alone in her room, pining over the married man she couldn't have.

She heard high heels approaching from behind them and groaned inwardly.

"Grey, have you checked on Brianna Kelly yet?" Addison asked, and then halted awkwardly when she saw who Meredith was talking to. "Good morning, Dr. Sloan," she said quickly.

"Morning, Addie," Mark answered lazily, looking right at her with a smirk.

Meredith could practically feel Addison stiffening. "I have to go… check on some labs," Addison said hesitantly. "Grey, seriously, look in on Mrs. Kelly."

"Okay." Meredith watched as Addison walked away. How the hell did that woman wear such high heels all day?

"She wants me," Mark said in that infuriating, confident tone.

Meredith didn't care – she didn't – because it wasn't like she liked him, it wasn't like this meant anything, but still.

She hit him in the arm with the clipboard.

"Shit! What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his arm.

"For being a dickhead," she informed him.

After everything that had happened, he still hadn't given up on Addison.

Pathetic.

But, of course, she still hadn't given up on Derek. And it had been almost a year.

- - - - -

"So who are you screwing?" Cristina appeared in front of her as she stood by the nurses' station.

Meredith choked on her coffee. "What?"

"Who are you screwing?" Cristina repeated matter-of-factly. "It's totally obvious you're getting some. Just tell me."

"I – nobody."

Her friend gave her a skeptical look. "You're going to try and lie to me? Seriously?"

She sighed. "It's no one important."

"No one important. As in, not McDreamy?"

She shook her head fervently. "Definitely not McDreamy. I swear."

Cristina shrugged. "Well, I'm just glad you're finally getting laid." She patted Meredith on the shoulder and strode away.

She let out a sigh of relief.

She felt someone's eyes on her from down the hall and looked up, expecting to see Mark's familiar secretive smirk.

Instead, it was Derek. Giving her one of those Looks. Their Looks. As if his deep, sorrowful blue eyes were going straight into her soul.

She quickly looked away.