So, here is chapter 4! I actually wrote it this weekend but wasn't fully satisfied with it. But, seeing all of the WONDERFUL support I've gotten in response to Chapter 3, I was fueled to finish this bad boy! Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing! It really, really helps in motivation!
This chapter is somewhat emotionally charged, so beware! And whatever this is developing between Mark and Izzie is going to be slow, so be patient!
And a special thanks to Andrea! R-O-C-K, You Rock, You, Rock!
--SC
All characters belong to ABC and Shonda. Please don't sue. You won't get a dime b/c I am poor.
Chapter 4: Hangovers and Underdogs
He walked through the doors of the Denny Duquett Memorial Clinic, looking for the sight of familiar blonde curls twisted into a bun held by a plastic tortoiseshell clip. She wore her hair like that every day, the same knot of twisted hair, the same clip. The only variation was whether or not she clipped her bangs back. He had caught wind that she was volunteering at the clinic on her day off, somewhat surprised she would even be able to get out of bed much less be able to help the under-privileged and the under-served. So, he had made the short walk over to the clinic with one steaming hot green tea in hand and a mocha latte in the other. He figured she could use the antioxidants in her system after the previous night of drunken debauchery.
Well, maybe debauchery was a term too strong . . .maybe "antics" would be better suited. Yes, antics, he decided, was a much better word to describe the kiss she had planted on him. And while he had enjoyed the lip lock very much, he knew that she had been drunk while giving the kiss and suspected that perhaps if she had been sober, his face would have more than likely been on the receiving end of a slap rather than a kiss.
His lips spread into a Cheshire grin. He couldn't wait to torture her.
He saw her standing against the counter, absorbed in a stack of files. He took mental note that her bangs were clipped back and that she wore her glasses instead of her contacts (he had a feeling that her eyes were still swollen and bloodshot…poor thing.) Seeing this as his golden opportunity, he walked quietly towards her.
"GOOD MORNING, DR. STEVENS!"
She jumped, visibly startled by his booming voice, and he watched grinning as her hand speedily went to cradle what he could only guess was her throbbing, aching head.
"Gah, do you have to speak so loudly?" She said, miserably, her eyes clenched shut.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Stevens . . . late night?"
She sent him a scathing look, well, as scathing as her hangover would allow.
"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised to see you up and running this morning. I would think you would still be in bed, curled into a ball, with a waste basket at your side." He leaned in closer to her. "You know, in case you had to throw up."
She groaned from the mental image his words painted for her, her hand going to her stomach.
Sloane chuckled as he placed the hot tea at her elbow. "I figured you could use this."
Izzie eyed the drink suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Green tea, full of antioxidants. Great for hangovers."
"I take it that this knowledge is coming from experience?"
"Absolutely."
Her hand wrapped around the protective cardboard barrier of the cup and brought it to her lips to try out Mark Sloane's recommendation of a hangover cure. Sipping the hot liquid cautiously, she sighed as she felt the warmth trickle down her throat. Her eyes went to Mark's pleased face.
"Thank you, Dr. Sloane."
"Don't mention it."
"Your random act of kindness has surprised me, I'm not going to lie."
He grinned at her. "Yeah, well . . . I like to shock people, especially when they underestimate me."
Her eyebrow rose at that and she stared at him with a knowing look. "Oh, so that explains the green tea. You want to know if I remember."
"Remember? Whatever could you be talking about, Stevens?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. One thing he had learned about Izzie Stevens from their conversations in the last few weeks was that whenever he repeated whatever she said with a question she grew very agitated . . . and it usually worked. But, not this morning, she was going to beat him to the punch, it appeared.
"If you're wondering if I remember kissing you, I do." She sat the hot beverage on the counter, turning to fully look at him. "Don't think it means that I want you . . . because I most definitely do not."
The 'McSteamy' grin grew on his face. "Oh, come on, Stevens, don't deny it. It's perfectly natural . . . many women quiver in lust when they look at me."
Izzie snorted in derision. " 'Quiver in lust'!? More like quiver in disgust."
"Well, you weren't quivering in disgust last night when you kissed me."
"Please. Don't let your ego expand over it. It was the tequila."
"So now you're going to blame the alcohol? Typical."
"Tequila makes me friendly . . . very, very friendly and makes me do really friendly things. And besides, I—
Izzie stopped short, biting her lip.
Mark became curious. " 'Besides' what, Stevens?"
"It's nothing." She avoided his gaze.
"It's gotta be something. You're not looking at me. What is it?"
"Really, I'm telling you, it's not important—
"—It must be if you're not making eye contact with me. You always look me in the eye, even when you should be cowering in fear." He put his coffee on the counter, next to her tea, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Spill it, Stevens."
"Dr. Sloane—
"—Now!"
"I felt sorry for you!" Her eyes grew large in horror as her hand instantly went to cover her mouth.
Her admission of honesty left him reeling . . . and a little more than angered, too. His eyes narrowed as his lips drew into a thin line. "Well, next time you 'feel sorry for me', take your pity somewhere else and shove it!" He said in a strained whisper.
"Wait a second! I didn't mean it the way it came out!" Izzie said clearly panicked by his anger.
"Oh, really. Let me get this straight. You badgered me about how my relationship with Addison didn't quite meet up with your standards and then you proceeded to kiss me, all because you felt sorry for me. Hmm…yes, I believe that sums things up rather nicely." Mark grabbed his coffee and quickly headed for the exit.
The cold blast of air didn't do much to cool his temper. He couldn't believe how pissed she'd just made him. He hadn't fooled himself into thinking that the kiss she'd given him meant anything, to him or to her . He was more worldly than that. And he was completely fine with it . . . he could accept and even understand it. Hell, he'd done far worse when he'd been drunk.
But what he would not accept or understand was a kiss given with the intentions of pity.
Pity. The word tasted like acid in his mouth. Mark Sloane was not a man to be pitied and it absolutely infuriated him to think that some ex-lingerie model with a nice rack and a dead fiancé pitied him.
Now that was unacceptable.
"Dr. Sloane! Dr. Sloane, please stop!" Her plea didn't slow him down. He kept on walking.
She ran to catch up with him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to a halt.
"What, Stevens!? You came to offer me more of your pity?"
"No! God, I don't pity you!"
"Woops, my mistake. You feel 'sorry' for me!" He made a turn to leave again, but was stopped when she moved in front of him and put her hand against his chest, blocking him from any movement.
"Mark, stop! Just . . .stop."
He tried to calm his breathing. He didn't like her seeing him this angry . . . it just wasn't him. He liked to keep it cool, to act like he was unaffected, but not this morning; she had gone too far. Her drunkenly admitted opinion of him had been proven correct . . . he actually had feelings and he hated it that Stevens had him so easily pegged. Slipping on the mask of frosty indifference once again, he said, "You've got one minute and then I don't want to see you again today."
He noticed her sharp intake of breath at his words and the tense line of her shoulders. Good. That should put her in her place. She opened her lips and closed them again, apparently stalling. He wasn't going to give her an inch. "You've got forty-seven seconds, Stevens."
She closed her eyes and began talking. "It wasn't that I felt sorry sorry, for you. It's just that when I saw her and I saw him with her—
"So you're saying you kissed me out of jealousy?" That little bit of information didn't soothe his anger any, only sparked it more. His voice lowered to a dangerous pitch. "I'm tired of women thinking they can use me for their underhanded motives . . . as much as I like to fuck, I don't like to be fucked with!"
"No! I wasn't trying to use you to make him jealous!" Izzie's free hand buried itself in her hair in frustration. She removed her hand from his chest and began pacing. "I don't even think of him like that . . . not since Denny. Besides, using people like that is not my style."
"Watch it, Isobel." He knew who she had referred to in her last snide remark and he found himself growing angrier by the second.
"I don't know why you defend her!" Izzie muttered to herself quietly.
"Stevens, you are walking a dangerously thin line here. . . you better be careful."
Her eyes met his, an air of defiance surrounding her. "No, you don't scare me!" Her eyes were blazing and her fists clenched together in anger. "What is it about her? She's like Satan and you are her devoted minion! She drags you through hell, and yet you still worship at her feet!"
His voice came out loud and sharp. "I am through with listening to opinions on my life from a lowly intern!" He leaned in towards her not bothering to hide his fury. "Why should I listen to you when you risked everything for the man you loved? Can't you realize I've done the same thing as you! You, Izzie, don't get to judge me or give your opinions of my love life . . . " He shrugged her hand off his arm and started to walk away again. She chased after him and grabbed him once more to make him face her.
Jabbing her finger in his chest, she leaned close to him, her voice low and fierce. " Don't you dare compare what happened with Denny to your relationship with Addison. We decided to take that chance together—to risk it all because we loved one another. He and I both made that choice and we were completely willing . . ." She continued on with tears spilling down her cheeks. "But you and Addison are a different story. You were willing to give everything up for her . . .and you did. And I hate it because she didn't do the same for you and I know what it feels like to be fucked over with the choices you make, the sacrifices. It hurts like hell . . ." Her voice dropped off and Mark watched as she wiped the tears off of her cheeks with the back of her hands.
He waited silently for her to continue, under the spell of her unbridled honesty, knowing that they'd only scratched the surface of the hurt that was hidden so deep within them.
She let out a sigh, her eyes meeting his tired and broken. "I kissed you because . . . she was sitting there, having a great time, with another man who she had chosen over you. I mean I saw it and you had obviously seen it too. And then you yelled at the bartender and were really mean to him . . . and I—got a little angry at her and the situation, and so when I saw her looking at us, with that quirked eyebrow that has that insanely high arch, as if you shouldn't be talking to me, I got pissed . . . .so, I kissed you."
He watched as the warm browns of her eyes were lit with fiery gold flecks as she spoke to him honestly and unapologetically. "And you know what? I'm not sorry! You should have seen the look on her face, because it was seriously worth it."
He watched her as she looked down at the ground, avoiding his heavy gaze, and watched her foot make nervous circles in the snow. "She needs to realize she can't have her cake and eat it, too. I'm not going to let that happen to Alex. . . or to you. Her choices have bruised you enough and no matter how much of a bastard you can be, you don't deserve it."
"Why?" He asked softly, not really sure where his voice had gone to.
Izzie shrugged her shoulders again. "I like to root for the underdog."
He was speechless.
To say that Mark was more than a little stunned by her admission of truths would have been an understatement. Not able to make eye contact with her, he turned his head and looked off into the distance, past the ambulance with sirens blaring and lights flashing, and mulled over what she had just admitted to him. She liked to root for the underdog, and he was said underdog. He, Mark Sloane, the underdog! That would be laughable if it wasn't so damn tragic.
She had chosen a battle that was not her own and had fought for him, fighting for the choices and sacrifices he had made and those unreciprocated. All because she knew what it felt like to have them blow up in your face, leaving wounds full of shrapnel and debris, with no treatment available to fully treat the injury. The only thing you could do was to watch them fester and suffer the pain alone.
He turned to look at her, and suddenly realized that he had discovered something very unexpected in Isobel Stevens. He had found an ally of sorts and a . . . friend?
He wasn't quite sure if what the two shared between them could yet be defined as friendship. Honesty they shared . . . trust? That was an element that was still undiscovered between them. He didn't trust easily, but when he did it was fully and completely, even if he had been deemed as "untrustworthy" in the past. Studying her silently, he felt it would be easy to trust Izzie Stevens. He just didn't know if he wanted to.
But one thing he did know with certainty was that Isobel Stevens, in her own non-traditional and eccentric ways, had defended him when he hadn't known he needed defending.
His eyes gentled as he looked at her, standing there, shivering because she had forgotten to grab her coat in her haste to make things right with him. "Go inside, Izzie. You'll freeze to death," he said in a voice much softer than moments before. "Go drink your green tea."
She raised her eyes still wet with tears to his, full of unspoken questions. "I... but we..."
Lifting his hand to tuck a stray piece of fallen hair behind her ear, he looked at her, taking her in. His hand briefly touched her cheek as he said, "I hope they realize what kind of friend they have in you."
Both stood in silence, each considering the other in front of them, neither saying a word. Her brown eyes, large with a mixture of confusion and surprise met his blue ones full acceptance, neither gaze wavering.
"Dr. Sloane?"
Their gazes broke away from one another, as he turned to find a nurse, standing there looking at him impatiently. "Ah, yes, Susan? Can I help you?"
"Your ten o'clock is here and has been waiting for over thirty minutes. I tried paging you, but you never answered." The nurse's eyes looked at Izzie, not bothering to hide her accusatory glare.
Mark's hands went to his waist and took off his beeper. "No wonder, it's dead. Well, I can't keep Mrs. Charles and her liposuction waiting, now can I?" He walked towards the entrance of the hospital, pausing briefly to look back once more at Izzie Stevens, still rooted in the same spot watching him, before he crossed the threshold, with a hint of a smile gracing his lips.
Please review! It's great motivation!