A/N: Wow guys, you're pretty vocal! I love it. I love how invested you are in this story. It's a dream come true for every writer.
Enjoy a new chapter!
Chapter 7
"Good job today, Dr. Shepherd."
Dr. Grey's voice stops him from going back to the cafeteria, as he picks up one of the charts from the nurses station in the main hall. She's dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, apparently ready to just go home and collapse on the couch; she looks even younger than how she is, dressed so simply. The only difference from her usual is that her regular ponytail is loose in shoulder-length honey hair, falling freely over her shirt, her jacket swung on her arm.
She looks carefree. For the first time in three weeks, since he has seen her at the bar and kissed her in an elevator, she doesn't look like a surgeon, and he really likes what he sees. He wants to kiss her again.
He has wanted to kiss her since the elevator, but this is the very first time he has to fight with himself to keep the distance.
"Thank you, Dr. Grey." He smiles brightly at her, and he feels even happier when she smiles back. She has such a beautiful smile.
Derek's smile though is quick to disappear when he sees his mother walking through the doors of the hospital, dragging a wailing David. Dr. Grey seems to notice his distress, because her smile turns into a firm line once again.
"Mom?" he calls, trying to be heard all over the dull hum of the hall.
"Oh, Derek, thank God!" His mother sighs in relief, her expression softening.
"What happened?" Derek frowns, as he notices the bloody washcloth that David is holding over his forehead.
"Take it away, Daddy, take it away!" His son cries out, fat tears streaming down his face, mixing with the blood trickling down. "It's sticky, take it away!"
"David, David, look at Daddy. David!" Derek tries to stop the boy from a full-blown meltdown, but he's unable to do it.
David is so worked up at this point, that he can't help but throwing up on the floor, luckily missing his shoes and Derek's by an inch.
He keeps dry heaving even later, and Derek can only let him be, scared that he might trigger more vomiting if he attempts to touch him. His heart twists in his chest at the sight of his son like this. He has never felt this helpless.
"What's going on?" Dr. Grey shuffles near them when she sees the commotion, a frown marring her features.
"I have no idea," Derek sighs, quickly grabbing her hands when she moves forward to check on the boy. He gives her a warning look, and she glares at him.
"Dr. Shepherd, –"
"He needs his time to process this, please don't touch him," Derek pleads, wishing she'll get it, and he sees the moment when a lights goes off in her head.
"What's your name, young man?" she asks quietly, crouching next to David where the floor is free from the vomit.
David is crying too loudly to reply.
"His name is David, he's five. Who's the neurosurgeon on call tonight?" Derek asks, but Dr. Grey ignores him.
"David, hi. I'm Dr. Grey. Can you tell me what happened?"
The boy's attention seems to be kept for a moment by her words, and his sobs slow down to whimpers.
"You...a doctor...like my...my daddy?" David is still sobbing, but he seems to be gathering his composure again, at least enough to speak more clearly, his eyes connecting with his in a plea.
"I'm your Daddy's boss." Meredith grins, looking up at Derek. "What do you think about going down to the ER so we can find out why you're bleeding so much?"
David whimpers. "Please, Dr. Grey. I hate blood. I hate it. Please."
"Sure thing," she smiles, standing up again. "Follow me. You can all come along." She addresses Derek and his mother then, who looks a little stunned, and yet grateful. "I suppose you're Mrs. Shepherd," Meredith asks his mother then, who smiles. "Do you remember where the ER is?" His mother nods. "Can you take David there, so I can ask Dr. Shepherd a few more questions?"
"Of course," she nods eagerly, walking a tidbit faster to leave the two doctors behind.
"I'm sorry to be a bother, Dr. Grey, I..." Derek stutters, a little taken aback by the whole ordeal.
"I'm off duty, Dr. Shepherd, he's no trouble." She smiles, and it is almost implicit that she has nothing better to do at home, which saddens Derek, before making him feel grateful.
"He has Sensory Processing Disorder. Blood drives him up the wall, I guess he just fell. He might need stitches, I'll get someone else to do it, you can..."
"We have a connection, he trusts me to make him better, I will try to make him as comfortable as possible, I promise. Again, it's no trouble."
Derek sighs in relief. Maybe he could ask Mark for help, but he saw his name on the board, and the sooner they clean up the blood, the better. He's glad she's offering her services, though he's still wary about David's reaction to her.
"Thank you so much, Dr. Grey."
She smiles simply, her eyes a bright, mesmerizing green. "Do you need me to wait for his mother? Maybe she can calm him further. It's going to be grueling."
"Oh, no," Derek swallows thickly. "It's just me and Davy." He blushes a little at the admission, his eyes darting to the boy shuffling through the hallway in front of them.
"Sorry, I just assumed..." she sighs, something in her eyes he can't read. "I didn't even know you had a son."
"It's not something you broadcast when you're an intern."
"True," she smiles gently, her features softening imperceptibly. "Looks like he's quite the boy, uh?"
Derek finally cracks a smile, only humming in confirmation.
"Any allergies? Previous medical conditions apart from SPD? Does he take any medications?"
"No, nothing, just..."
Her hand rests lightly over Derek's shoulder squeezing it tightly. "I'll take care of him."
Derek nods, unable to shake away the feeling of calm that washes over him at the mere contact of her hand. "It's just...he's my son, you know? He's all I have."
There's a sad smile on her face that makes him believe she knows more than she lets others see.
He doesn't have time to dwell on that, because they can hear David throwing up some more, this time in a bucket his mother is holding, a nurse watching over them with sympathetic eyes.
"Mrs. Shepherd, what happened?" Meredith goes into clinical mode, tying up her hair in a bun, then discarding her bag and jacket, grabbing a pair of gloves in the process.
"He fell on the edge of the table. I told him a thousand times not to run, but he always spins around it in his socks. He lost footing, slipped on the carpet and fell face first on the corner, then I saw the blood," she explains, her voice cracking.
"Nana, make it stop!" David cries out, his voice broken by the tears and the vomiting. "My shirt is all dirty, no more blood!"
"Mom, it's not your fault." Derek touches her arm, squeezing it tightly, trying to comfort her. She merely shakes her head in response.
"Hm, let's see...David, what do you say if we take off that soiled washcloth and we put on one of these gauzes? Can I clean up your forehead a little?" Dr. Grey says in a calm voice.
"No more blood," he begs. "Daddy, no more blood!"
Derek feels a little like crying too. "Do you want me to hold your hand? It's probably going to pinch a little as Dr. Grey works."
"No Daddy, no more blood."
"Alright," Dr. Grey intervenes, ready to clean the wound.
David whimpers, his gag reflex almost giving up once more as Dr. Grey discards the washcloth. His whimper becomes a sob when she keeps his head still and dabs the wound for the first time.
"It hurts!" he cries out. "Daddy, make it stop!"
"David, look at me." Dr. Grey is quicker than Derek to jump in. "I need to touch you, and I need to make it tingle and fizzle more to get all the bacteria out, and clean all the blood. You won't even remember that there's blood when I'm all done."
"There's blood all over!" David keeps crying. "Even on my pants!"
"We'll change them, okay?" Derek swallows, shaken at the core by the vulnerability in his son's voice. "We'll change them as soon as we get home."
"I brought you clean clothes, Davy." His mother motions to her bag, and Derek is thankful his mother knows her grandson so well.
"What about we clean up your forehead, then you can change into the clean clothes when you're clean too? Otherwise even the clean pants will get dirty," Dr. Grey prods, smiling at the boy. David nods in agreement.
He seems to relax as Dr. Grey dabs his forehead one more time, and the blood stops gushing out from the wound. It looks a lot less scary, now. Head wounds always look terrible, because the amount of blood surpasses the severity of the wound itself, and Derek is grateful this only confirms what he already knows: his son will be fine.
"Daddy," David chokes a little at the end, catching Derek's attention immediately.
"What is it, D-Man?"
"I gotta be a burrito."
Derek actually smiles at that, standing behind the boy now, as he tries to avoid Dr. Grey's hands while he wraps his arms tightly around his son, squeezing him into his hold. David's whole body relaxes, his whimpers quieting down, his breathing more regular.
"Good, Daddy. So good," David sighs in relief, his body sagging.
"There's always someone ready to hug you if you need it," Derek replies, squeezing him a little tighter.
The fact that some pressure could calm him down is a recent discovery for both of them, something they have found out only during the past few months in OT, and it still has to fully sink in, apparently for the both of them. Pressure and being squished has always helped when David had been an infant, but the fact that they could replicate the same feeling has helped them solve more than one tricky situation lately. Right in this moment it feels like a godsend.
"Your burritos are the bestest," David says, sniffling loudly.
Derek chuckles. "I'm surely stronger than Nana, uh?" He looks up at his mother with a smirk, and he sees her relieved face.
"Nana is all soft. Sometimes I need soft."
"I know," Derek sighs, once more knowing how a mother in the picture could have helped with the softness. "But sometimes you need to be a burrito." He dares to kiss the top of his head then, sighing in relief when he doesn't flinch away.
"Look, Mr. Burrito," Dr. Grey smirks, "the blood is all cleaned up now. Can I put a patch on it? Make sure it won't bleed anymore?"
David nods. "Can Daddy keep making a burrito?"
"Of course," Dr. Grey nods. "I know this looks scary," she says, pointing to the needle and thread in her fingers, "but it won't hurt, I promise."
David takes a shaky breath, and Derek squeezes him just a little tighter. David flinches when Dr. Grey numbs his wound, then starts stitching it together. She works quickly, seamlessly, always with a smile on her face.
"So, what do you do in your spare time with your daddy, when he's not busy making you into a burrito?" she asks, clearly using the conversation as a distraction. Derek chuckles, but the joke passes right over David's head.
"We walk through the woods a lot, and we run and we swing on the swings a lot. Daddy also lets me help in the kitchen when he doesn't cook slimy stuff."
"Can your daddy cook better than your Nana?" she prods, smirking.
"Of course!" David grins. "My daddy worked in a rest'rant. He cooks very yummy food."
"He did?" Meredith says, looking up at Derek with an unreadable expression on his face, something that seems a lot like amusement. "What's your favorite thing he cooks for you?"
"Chicken curry," David moans happily, winning a giggle from his doctor. "And chocolate chip pancakes."
"I like those too."
"Now he doesn't cook no more, 'cause he works lots." David sighs, for a second making Derek feel guilty.
"I bet he always makes something special when he's not working though."
David grins. "He likes to 'speriment."
"Does he?" She smirks at Derek, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Like what?"
"Dunno. Lots of stuff. Some is not yummy at all." David grimaces, winning a chuckle from Derek.
"There, all done." Dr. Grey announces, winning a surprised look from David.
"All, all done?"
"You just need a clean patch to put on your forehead, then you're done," she smiles. "Now, I need you to do a couple of things for me, so your Daddy has to let go of you. You can turn into a burrito a little later. Are you okay just being David for five minutes?"
David swallows thickly. "Can I have one more minute of burrito?"
"Of course."
David immediately turns around, reciprocating the tight hug, squeezing his Derek's shoulders with all his strength. Derek closes his eyes, reveling in the hug.
"Okay, all done," David announces, turning again to face his doctor.
Dr. Grey starts the standard neuro checks then, making sure she doesn't leave anything uncovered, but at the same time trying to turn the check up into a game for David. Derek watches her a little mesmerized, ticking off another box in the reasons for her awesome skills as a doctor. She never ceases to surprise him.
"Dr. Shepherd, I would do an MRI, just to be on the safe side," she finishes off the exam plainly, eying David warily.
"What's an em-ar-ay?" David asks innocently.
"It's a machine that looks very much like a spaceship that can peek into your head. It makes a lot of noises though," she explains calmly.
"What do you say Davy? Wanna go into a spaceship?"
David starts to bounce, nodding firmly. He still asks to be carried like a burrito to the spaceship, and Derek obliges, glad to be carrying his boy around the hospital.
"I saw some headphones in the MRI room, I'll figure it out," Derek explains as Dr. Grey keeps studying him with a frown.
She raises her eyebrows, but she lets him do his thing. He places David on the MRI bed, puts the headphones on him, then grins brightly, going behind the glass to control the microphone.
"Hello there, Nugget."
"Hi, Daddy," they hear from the microphone behind the glass.
"You ready? Close your eyes and stay still, remember, it's Langston time," he says, then he starts to recite the only poem that calmed down him when he was little.
David seems to relax immediately as Derek's voice floats into the room. His smile widens as Derek recites the whole poem, sighing loudly as he gets to the end. Derek then switches off his own microphone, and starts playing some music. David keeps smiling even as the MRI starts humming loudly, the low instrumental music barely audible in the room without headphones, since the hum is so loud.
"Sigur Rós and Langston Hughes work like a charm." Derek smiles, sharing a look with his attending, who's looking at him with complete fascination. "Some SPD kids like death metal and gothic novels though, so you should really ask the parents."
"Well, David has refined tastes, I see."
Derek chuckles, glad to see Dr. Grey's humor shine through her job. "I mean, other kids hate touching, David hates touching, but needs pressure sometimes. We learned that a couple of months ago. Some others need to feel constantly touched or reassured that someone is nearby, especially as babies. It's pretty maddening to figure out what they really need."
"I can imagine," she admits, her eyes softening. "He's the reason you delayed your residency, uh?"
"Yeah, he is." Derek admits. "Not a second has gone to waste."
He sees something change in her eyes, and not in the negative sense. He has expected her to judge him, maybe even tease him, but she looks almost grateful, happy that he made this choice.
"I mean, he's a pretty normal, happy boy, if you can get over the meltdowns and the sometimes picky eating. He's not a severe case, but sometimes he just makes you question everything you've done before. He keeps me on my toes."
He sees a brighter smile on her lips, and he has no idea what to make of it. He does feel an immense urge to kiss her again, though, if only to thank her for taking good care of David.
"I can remove his stitches myself next week, so he doesn't need a different doctor. I'm supposed to finish early next Thursday too."
"I can ask Dr. Sloan, it's no trouble, really."
"Nonsense, he'll just corrupt the kid. I have a delicate touch." She smirks, making Derek chuckle. Of course she'll feel more confident than a plastic surgeon removing stitches. He almost rolls his eyes at her.
"I'll ask David, okay?" Derek nods. "I'm going to page you on Wednesday to confirm the appointment."
"Fine by me," she confirms, studying the scan as it comes up. "All clear, as I imagined."
"Better safe than sorry." Derek sighs in relief, leaning back a little in the chair, allowing some of the tension he has accumulated to drain away from him.
He looks at Meredith once again, and the urge to kiss her is still there. It's not time to figure out what it means just yet, though.
Kissing Meredith Grey again can wait for tomorrow.
A/N: Looks like this won't be the last you see of Meredith and David together, uh? I hope you liked their first meeting, even if it was a bit tumultuous. Some of you who follow me on Twitter might have seen a few snippets of scenes here and there, but beware that the final result is not always the same as the sneak peeks.
Thank you all again for reading! I hope to see you again at the next installment.