GUYS! I'M SO, SO, SO, SOOOOOO, SORRY! I had promised that I would get you guy another chapter in what, December?, but something came up with school and I couldn't write because my head was too full. Anyways, this is a kind of a short chapter. The next one will get things rollin' I think. I'm not sure yet.

007. Friend

There came a time in people's lives when they stopped living and started existing. Most people would say that it's the other way around. But, what people didn't understand was that when you're living for so long, it just gets tiring. It took up too much energy and time and effort. That's when existing came into play. Existing was a state of life in which people could get caught up. This was probably the reason as to why Mark had decided that he needed to exist for a while. No more living.

Pulling into the parking space reserved for him, Mark sighed. He wasn't looking forward to having to face his friend. Especially after what had happened last night, both in real life and in his dreams. Mark wasn't one to get embarrassed easily, but he could already feel his face growing hot thinking about what he had dreamed about.

Getting out of the car, Mark noticed Lexie walking with meredith and Cristina up ahead. He was tempted to wedge himself into the conversation some how (maybe by playing the Dirty Mistresses Club car) in order to hear if they were talking about Derek. According to rumors, Meredith and Derek had been having issues with their relationship. Not that Mark cared. He saw it as an opportunity. But, Mark kept his distance as he walked across the parking lot.

Some how, Seattle Grace looked a lot more daunting that day. It was like he was an intern all over again: weak-kneed and scared. But he had no reason to be scared. He was Mark Sloan. The Mark Sloan. World-famous plastic-surgeon. There was no reason to be afraid of walking into that hospital. He was Mark fucking Sloan. And it was just Derek. Just the Derek he had kissed the previous night.

Derek who was his best friend. The Derek that Mark told everything to. Well, at least he use to tell everything to him. Now, it felt like he was deflecting everything and avoiding Derek. Mark sighed and decided that he might as well get it over and done with. There was no point prolonging the inevitable.

Twenty minutes later, Mark was standing at the nurses' station reading over a patient's chart. The patient in question had underwent a trick face reconstruction after a fire. It was a prime example of Mark's handy work. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself for it. As he was standing there, Mark couldn't help but be distracted by a pair of legs that would put Betty Grable to shame. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Mark watched as the amazing legs (and ass that went with it) walked away.

"Is that what you do to me when I walk away from you?" Derek's voice came from beside him.

"Hell no. Your legs and ass look horrible. I like your hair," Mark commented, looking back down at the chart. Mark couldn't help but smile. Sure, most people would be offended by what Derek had said about Mark, but this was how they operated. They made fun of each other. They said semi-mean things that brought the other back to reality. This actually comforted Mark. It meant that he hadn't completely messed up his friendship.

"Well, thank you," Derek chuckled, leaning against the nurses' station. He had that typical 'Derek Shepherd' smile on. The one he always wore when he was up to no good. "So...Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?" Derek asked, turning his eyes to Mark.

Mark swallowed hard and tried to resist looking at Derek. Mark knew all of Derek's flirting techniques. He had actually taught most of them to Derek. Knowing this, Mark refused to look at him. One look into those eyes and Mark would melt. Never in his life had Mark wanted his pager to go off, or for one of his patients to code, or for Meredith to show up, but at that moment in time it would have been a welcomed distraction. None of those things happened, so Mark just stared at the chart of his burn patient.

"You've been reading that chart for a while. Something wrong with them?" Derek asked, smiling again.

"Um...Not that I notice. Just a slight elevation in white counts," Mark said, making a note on the chart and handing it to the nurse. Mark turned to look at Derek. That stupid smile still on his face.

"So...Last night?" Derek asked for a second time, his eyebrows rising.

"Do we have to talk about it here?" Mark asked, looking around the Plastics Floor.

"Fine. On-Call Room?" Derek asked, shrugging a little.

"Like that's appropriate," Mark commented, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, I don't hear you making any better suggestions," Derek rebutted.

"Fine. Let me check on a patient and I'll be there in five minutes," Mark said, reaching past Derek for a different chart.

"Fine. Five minutes," Derek said, smiling one last time before walking off.

Sighing, Mark turned his attention to the chart in his hands. But, his brain wasn't focusing. He was looking at the chart, but not really understanding anything that he was looking at. He threw the chart down onto the nurses' station and headed off toward the On-Call Room. It was better to get this over and done with then to prolong it. Rip the stitches out, as it were. Maybe he would come out with his friendship still intact, although Mark doubted it.