A/N: Well, it looks like you're all interested in what is going to happen next. I'm quite sure you'll like this chapter! Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Coffee is not working.

Meredith has no idea how she can survive her day if the caffeine rush doesn't hit soon.

She has three surgeries scheduled, a couple of consults waiting for her, and it feels like one of those days when the ER will fill to the brim and they'll need her help down there even if it's not in her rotation. She needs the caffeine.

Her travel mug is now empty and she's staring at the pile of paperwork on her desk with disgust. She slept fitfully the night before, thoughts of Derek Shepherd flashing through her head. When she finally closed her eyes for good, she woke up in a pool of sweat, her breathing ragged and the thoughts of kissing Derek Shepherd still planted in her head.

She should stop fantasizing about his lips and his body and his hair before bedtime.

Her pager pulls her out of her thoughts, and she groans when she sees that she has to rush back into surgery one of her post-ops.

This is going to be a long day.

The cold water on her face in the scrub room helps wake her up, though the usual near-emptiness her brain experiences right before surgery is hard to come by. She closes her eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths, calmness washing over her, slowly and steadily.

When she opens her eyes, her heart skips a beat.

Derek is coming out of the opposite OR door, a grin on his face, Bailey following suit. He looks like he has been a surgeon for longer than three days.

"Dr. Grey," Bailey nods, taking place at the sink next to hers, Derek sliding in front of the one on the farthest right.

"Dr. Bailey," she smiles back politely, ignoring Derek's eyes on her. "Good surgery?"

"Patient was touch and go, but we managed to bring him back."

"Good," she says, unable to move her gaze towards Derek. There's fluttering in her stomach, stupid blue eyes.

"What are you in for?" Bailey asks, studying Meredith with more attention, then looking at her right to Derek.

"Craniotomy," Meredith says, hoping she can keep some resemblance of normalcy as she talks with Bailey. That woman seems to know everything that is going on with anybody, no wonder she's nicknamed The Nazi. She might still be a resident, but there's not one surgeon who doesn't fear her, and Meredith is definitely in that list right now. She feels under scrutiny. "Had to go back in."

"I hope he'll make it through," Bailey nods, drying her hands, then leaving the scrub room, Derek following her like a puppy.

Meredith takes a deep, shuddering breath as she walks into the OR.

So much for avoiding Derek Shepherd.

Meredith Grey's hands are flawless.

He has been staring at her hands performing the craniotomy for hours, as he fills his scut paperwork in the empty OR gallery.

It's a routine emergency craniotomy, nothing fancy or worth-watching, except he's mesmerized by her every movement. Her hands are flawless, just like the rest of her.

He knows he should keep his distance, but he can't help himself, he likes being around her, even when she's crass and mean, or when she completely ignores him. She's funny, especially when she's drunk, and he wants to know her better, even though he's sure they might be breaking all kinds of unspoken rules if they even grab a coffee together.

Maybe he should get her coffee. He might be seen as the suck-up, but at least she'll get coffee.

His ringing phone startles him, and he answers quickly as soon as he reads his mother's name on the display.

"Hey, Ma, is everything okay?"

"It is," she says, though her tone is tired and defeated. "Are you going to be home for dinner?"

"I hope so," he replies, frowning at her big sigh.

"Good."

"What's going on? What did David do?"

The deep, shuddery sigh fills his eardrums again. "I took him to the park and he stumbled a little and grazed his knee. He threw a fit about sand on his hands and in his shoes and…"

"I'm sorry," he says, his turn to sigh deeply. He knows full well how hard it is to handle David when he has these moods. There was a reason he took him to the restaurant most days. He hates that he can't be there for his son when he's saving lives.

"It's not your fault, Derek."

"Maybe I should hire someone, give you some rest. You've been dealing with him around the clock – "

"Nonsense. He's my grandson, I can handle him."

"Mom, he can be a handful."

"And six kids were a handful too, especially Mark. I'm still here."

"You're not thirty anymore, Ma."

"Now who's calling me old?" she laughs, and he finally manages a smile. "We'll be okay. I'll just whip up something simple for dinner, instead."

"Rest up for a bit. I should be out of here by seven, maybe I'll find a way to cook for us."

"We'll see you then. And don't worry about dinner or David too much."

"You know I will always worry about him."

"You wouldn't be his dad if you didn't," she says, then hangs up after saying her goodbyes.

The OR monitors beep wildly and his focus shifts quickly to the surgery, his worries forgotten for a second.

Dr. Grey is ordering everybody around, moving precisely but without rushing around. No matter what is happening, she always looks and sounds in control, and he envies her. She looks so put together and sure of everything in her life he feels like he has to hate her a bit. Except he admires her more.

The monitors quiet down as the tension in the OR deflates, every member of the surgical team straightening up their backs and letting their shoulders drop a little. The only one who is still completely focused on the exposed brain is Dr. Grey, and he can't keep his eyes off her.

Before he knows it, the surgery is over, and her green-gray eyes are locking with his as she takes off her protective garments and heads to the scrub room. There are questions there, and a good deal of surprise, and he immediately notices how wide and clear her eyes look after surgery.

He clears up the clutter of his charts as well, noticing that he can now officially change into street clothes and go home. Going home means he can avoid Dr. Grey for a little longer.

He climbs into the empty elevator, the pile of charts he has to drop off at the nurses' desk in the hall pressed against his chest. Just when the doors are about to close, a petite hand slips in and he groans inwardly.

Of course he has to share an elevator with Meredith Grey.

"Stop looking at me, Dr. Shepherd," she blurts, standing with her back to him; he has to admit, her ass is gorgeous.

"I'm not looking at you," he replies, unable to keep the smirk off his tone.

"You are. At my ass, specifically," she quips over her shoulder, a glare in her eyes.

"You are mistaken."

"I'm your boss," she says, turning abruptly. "You can't look at my ass."

"I wasn't looking. If I were looking, I'd tell you it's a nice ass."

"Look, there's a line. A big line," she huffs, and she looks so beautifully flustered he has to say more. He's sure he has never been more intrigued by a woman before, no matter how wrong it is.

The flirty jab escapes him before he can restrain his tongue. "So, this line, is it imaginary or do I need to get you a marker?"

Her eyes flash, and he's already trying to form an apology, before his breath is being knocked out of him. Her lips are on his as her body charges, pinning him against the steel wall. His pile of charts is now on the floor.

He wounds his hands in her hair as she kisses him, her passion something he never expected from her usually calculating self. Her tongue does delicious things to his mouth, and his knees are wobbly as she rocks her hips against his. All of his body is on fire and responding to her every touch and nib, his hands exploring her unkown curves, awakening a level of arousal that has been dormant for years. He's not even sure it has ever been this awake, either.

The ding of the elevator brings them back to reality and she springs back, her cheeks rosy, her pupils dilated and her lips swollen. He licks his own lips, relishing the taste of Meredith Grey, before she settles her wrinkled scrubs and bolts out.

"You can call me Derek now," he calls out, wrapping his labcoat closer to hide his tenting scrubs as she disappears down the hall, and the doors close again.

People get in and give him looks, but he can't stop smiling.

A/N: Yep, elevators work in the same way in this fictional universe. Sorry if this was so short, but at least it was intense, right?

Thank you for reading and loving these characters! Stay tuned for more!