Hello!

Two exams down...a hundred left to go! Woo! I have another one tomorrow so I'm therefore posting this early, so enjoy a shocking Thursday post! :o

Anyway, today's chapter of course features the resolution to last week's chapter, with some good old McBrothers, of course, as well as some overprotective girlfriend, as I'm sure you all predicted. I told you not to worry too much, and I wasn't lying, but I can promise that there is a reason while this little plot exists, and that ~chapter 50 is going to pretty interesting as a result of it. *more evil writer laughs*

Enjoy! :)


"So...is this what happens every Christmas?"

"No, Meredith." Derek sighed.

Mark smiled. "You've really never had a Christmas before?"

"I had a friend who hosted Christmas when I was about 19. There was drinking, not a lot of food...not entirely sure that's what Christmas is about." She replied. "But I've never put up a Christmas tree before. Or...whatever else you said you do on Christmas."

"Making gingerbread houses, cooking too much food, eating too much food, lighting weird candles, putting candy in stockings, pulling apart Christmas crackers, kissing under the mistletoe, putting up-" Derek paused. "Ow! Jesus, Mark."

"Maybe if you would sit still, it wouldn't hurt so much." He said as he placed the scope back down.

"I am sitting still." He rebutted. He couldn't really move that far away from the man even if he wanted to.

"You're not. And I'm just trying to help you." Mark sighed.

"No. You're just poking me for absolutely no reason now."

"I'm checking your eye to figure out whether or not you're going to go blind or not." He corrected. "Do you really want to be blind and paralyzed? I don't think so. You were lucky enough that they let you come back to surgery the first time, they're not going to let you if you're blind too."

He sighed. "I'm well aware of that."

"So, are you going to let me examine you again? Or not?"

"I require antibiotic eye drops for my corneal abrasion, because I'm immunocompromised because I don't have a spleen. You know that, I know that, Meredith knows that. We all know that." He returned. "So if you could just write what I said on my chart and write me the prescription-"

He sighed. "Fine. But this is an AMA; I'm not responsible for any eye loss."

He smiled. "Okay, but I'm not going to lose an eye, so it's not a problem."

Mark returned it briefly before heading out of the room to head to the pharmacy.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Meredith pressed the second Mark was gone.

"I'm fine. I'm only here for the antibiotics because we remember last time I got an infection...or, well poisoning, but close enough- and I lost a kidney, and we fell out, and then I lost it in the hospital and-"

"Are you going to lose it again? Oh- God, what if you do get a corneal infection and-"

Crap. That was clearly the wrong thing to say. "No, no. It's fine. I'm fine. Stop worrying."

She stepped closer, and placed her thumb just below his eyelid. "Your whole sclera is red...and I think there's a bit of bruising starting to appear too."

"It's a poked eyeball."

"It's a corneal abrasion."

"Which is the same thing as a poked eyeball. Just...it has a fancier name." He returned. "I'm sure you've poked yourself in the eye plenty of times."

"I've never gone to the emergency room for it."

"Right? And whose fault is it that we're here instead of just at home?" He asked with a kind of know-it-all face.

She pouted, but didn't respond.

"Meredith, I'm not going to go blind."

"You have a swollen undereye with a completely red sclera, and you're kind of crying out of that eye a little bit." She replied. "From a Christmas tree. A freaking Christmas tree. I attacked you with a Christmas tree. I...stabbed you with a Christmas tree. I pulled the two thingmabobs apart and clearly I'm stronger than I think because it went flying, and I killed you with a Christmas tree. You were so nice. You offered to teach me Christmas. It was so sweet, and cute, and I love you so much and I...I just said thanks by attacking you with half a plastic tree trunk. I mean, that is not what you do to someone you love. Not even sure you should do that to anyone, no matter how much you hate them. But- I definitely shouldn't have done that to you, I just-"

"Meredith- please- please stop talking-" He begged. "I know you're horrified and I know you feel bad, but it's okay. I'm okay, the tree is okay, my eye is okay, everything is okay...okay?"

She sighed. "Okay. But so far I'm kind of hating this Christmas thing by the way."

He smiled, "I gathered."


"Right, okay, so you're going to line it up, and then press them together, making sure it clicks."

"Okay." She muttered to herself, twisting the trunk of one until she found where they line up. This made sense.

"Got it?"

She nodded. "Yeah. But-"

"But?" He repeated.

She placed the two sides beside her.

"What are you doing?" He asked with creased eyebrows as she stood from the floor.

"Protecting you." She answered as she leant down, and clicked off the breaks of his chair.

"You're- What?"

She grasped the bars by his legs, and pushed him backwards. And further.

"Mer-"

And further.

"I don't-"

And further.

"What-"

And further.

Eventually, when he was literally against the wall, she stopped.

"Meredith, what the hell?"

"You're protected from the Christmas tree all the way over here." She explained.

"Well, yes, but don't you think this is a bit exce-" He paused again. This woman was unbelievable.

"Protective eyewear."

"Meredith, you're not serious."

She held the pair of goggles out closer to him. He didn't even know where she'd got them from.

"Okay, Meredith, you are serious."

"Christmas trees are very dangerous." She replied with a stern look. "You need to be protected."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Meredith, I love you but I actually think you've lost i-"

"Protective. Eyewear." She repeated, extending her hand so they were almost now against his chest.

He sighed, and took the goggles before sliding them on. "Satisfied?"

"Uh-" She leant back down, and pushed his breaks back on. "Now I'm satisfied."

"You know, I know a really good PTSD therapist." He said as she left, walking the five odd metres to where they had been set up before. "And I've heard that the mental hospital in West Seattle is really good at helping people with all sorts of conditions. Like...overprotective-girlfriend disease."

"You're happy with your disability, I'm fine with my mental illness." She replied. "Besides, I need to be overprotective. I need to worry. I'm dating a guy who had his head bashed in, is missing half of his vital organs (or using replacement ones from people who have died), broke like 50 bones and is paralysed. You...are more likely to have a DVT, are more likely to break your legs in a fall because of misuse osteoporosis, are more likely to get an infection or die from a simple infection, are more likely to get heat stroke or hyperthermia - or hypothermia -, more likely to have a serious complication from a simple concussion, more likely to have t-"

"Woah, woah, woah, okay-" He had to interrupt; he wasn't convinced she'd ever stop otherwise.

"I'm serious."

"That's a lot of complications to memorise."

"I'm a surgeon, Derek. A surgeon who may go into neurosurgery." She replied. "I need to know these things."

"I know I'm a medical disaster, but it's okay, you don't need to think about all that quite so much."

"I like to be prepared, that's all."

He sighed. "Okay."

"Now, I'm actually going to put the pieces together now, okay?"

"Sorry? I couldn't hear you. I'm just...so far away." He teased. She was actually mad. So freaking mad.

"I'm not listening to your teasing again. I'm just going to put this back together."

"Enjoy the very strenuous, very difficult task." He said as he watched her pick up the pieces.

"You say it like it's easy but-" She paused as the pieces joined, perfectly aligned. "Oh. They literally just slot together?"

He did his best not to laugh. "Yes, Meredith."

"Oh...and it's not even- right, it literally just does that." She muttered to herself.

"Can I come back over now? Is the scary danger gone?"

"Um...depends on how dangerous ginger bread is." She supposed after a second of thinking. "Do you think we can manage that without a disaster?"


Derek loved his girlfriend. She was lovely, and funny, and intelligent, and kind, and caring, and beautiful, and accepting, and reassuring, and supporting.

But Derek also hated his girlfriend, in this moment at least. "Meredith!"

"I set the timer!" She exclaimed, waving the towel about. "I promise!"

He chucked the tray on the side the second he could. Even through his oven mit, the pan was extremely hot. "I think you almost melted the tray! Nevermind the gingerbread men, they're like...ash."

She sighed as the fire alarm finally stopped, and she dropped her arms back to her side. Derek's fire alarm seemed to never stop beeping, no matter how many times she waved her towel at it. He'd never noticed, having never set it off, until she turned up in his home. "Jesus."

"So the answer is no then?"

"No?" She repeated.

"To the question of whether we can make gingerbread men without a disaster." He elaborated before reconsidering what he had said. He left Meredith on gingerbread duty, "Or...whether you can."

She sighed. "I hate Christmas."

"No, you don't."

"I almost made you lose an eye, and now I've almost burnt your house down."

"To be fair, you've almost burnt my house down like twenty times already, that's nothing to do with Christmas."

She pouted. "I don't like you anymore. I really don't."

He smiled. "How about we kiss under the mistletoe? That can't go wrong...can it?"

"There is no mistletoe. We haven't got it out of the box yet."

"Then...just kiss me anyway."

She couldn't help the small smile that crept across her face. "Yes please. Just...tell me if I hurt you or your house again in the process, please. Promise me that."

He smiled. "I promise. Now, come here-"