Hello!

More fluffy Merder today!

Enjoy! :)

"Water? Aspirin?" He sighed as he paused beside her.

She almost jumped. She had most definitely not realised he was there, and she was surprised considering it was about four in the morning and he was asleep when she rolled out of bed to deal with her very intense hangover. "Mmm- no, morphine."

He smirked. "No, not morphine. Then you're just going to be hungoverandhigh. I can't handle that."

"No-" She sighed. "Morphine. Please. I'm...like you. Sleepy. Need bed. But...too much pain. So...morphine?"

He smiled at her hopeful expression. She was clearly still a little bit loopy from all that tequila, but also very clearly hungover at the same time. "Headache?"

"Why do people drink?" She sighed. "This is so horrible. God."

"How's the nasua? Got any nasua?"

"Earlier. But-" She rested her head against the wall. "I'm better now. It's just...I'm a little bit stuck on the floor."

"Think you can stand?"

"Mmm." She murmured. "At least stand. Just...lots of steps until bed."

He nodded, and did his best to get her to her feet. Seeing as she wasn't nauseous anymore, he saw no reason for her to sit on the bathroom floor.

"Now what? I'm gonna walk into the walls. I'm already clumsy sober."

He smiled. That was so, so true. "You're gonna take a seat on me, and I'm gonna take us both there."

"No-" She breathed, shaking her head. "Can't do that to you."

"Please. I don't want you walking into walls either, but I can't scoop you up like I want to."

She stared at him for a minute, silent, before collapsing into his lap. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help it; she'd drank so much she felt like her head was going to explode.

After a long minute of Derek slowly making his- or rather their way to the bed, and an even longer minute of Meredith trying to get back into bed, she was settled, and his mission was complete.

"Mmm. Bed. Sleepy time."

"I thought you were against my sleepy mumbling. Hypocrite." He teased with a soft voice as he pulled the cover over her.

"Memory foam."

He snorted. "Okay, now you're literally just stealing what I said."

"Mmm. Maybe."

Definitely. But he didn't mind. He could never mind.

"Snuggles again?" She asked with an almost-childlike smile and the same puppy-dog eyes he was giving her two days earlier.

"Fine." He agreed. "But only because you're the most adorable freaking thing on this planet."

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, Mer." He dismissed as he took the bowl of cereal off of his lap, and handed it to her. He'd woken up, or woken up again, early to go and order room service for a nice full breakfast, in the hope that some food would help sober her up.

"I'm so, so sorry-" She sighed. "God, I am so embarrassing."

"No, you're not. I don't mind looking after drunk Meredith."

"I know you're all lovely and kind, but I'm sure you did mind really." She replied. She'd heard what she was like drunk, and her old friends definitely used to mind.

"No, I didn't." He returned. "It was fine, you said good things actually."

"Good things? I say good things when I'm drunk?"

"Oh." He breathed from the confusion in her voice. "You don't remember?"

"I literally can hardly remember the wedding. Me and free tequila...bad, bad idea."

"Yes, I'd say it was like drinking for two. You know, to make up for my lack of drinking."

She smiled. "Yeah. But...seriously, what did I say?"

"You...had a little breakdown."

"Like a mental breakdown?"

"You thought I was cheating on you with Jennifer, because of all that stuff she said. You cried a little. You hugged me lots, called me the best boyfriend ever far too many times, saying I was yours and no one else's, and that you love me."

"Seriously?" She asked, cheeks dark red. "Oh, god, sorry. I told you I'm a rather mad drunk."

"It's okay. Just...maybe give it a rest for your liver?"

She sighed. "Okay. Good idea. But you know I'm not denying it."

"Denying what?"

She smiled, and kissed him. "Best boyfriend ever."

"So..." Meredith started as she sat down on the bed beside him with an apprehensive expression.

She was worried about this conversation.

It wasn't that she thought he'd be angry nor saddened by her question if the answer was no, but it would be awkward at the very least and she, of course, did not want that.

He looked at her before repeating, "So?"

"Beaches."

"Beaches." He echoed again.

She smiled, "What are you, a parrot?"

He snorted. "Sorry, sorry."

"Okay- so, Jen and Harry aren't going on their honeymoon for a few more days, since we're here...and she's asked us if we'd like to go to the beach."

"Right." He breathed.

"Don't worry-" She said quickly, reading his expression. "This isn't a conversation where I convince you to go, this is a conversation where I'm asking you whether or not you're able to go. If the answers no, you're not disappointing me. I'm not sure I expect the answer to be yes."

"But you like the beach?"

"I like you. I like places I go with you. If you can't go to the beach, I don't like the beach either." She replied. "But...maybe you can, I don't know. So...questions- can you go to a beach? Do you need me to do something so that the beach becomes accessible to you? Have you been to a beach since your accident? And are you going to be comfortable enough in beach attire round Harry and Jen or do I have to seek out...swimming jeans?"

"I am thinking I'm going to be cleaning sand out of my castors for the next year if I go to a beach so...I'm not sure about that. I haven't been to a beach in years. And...I'm trying to be- you know, confident in myself and my body so...maybe- you know, long swimming trunks not like tiny ones and maybe a t-shirt too but- yeah."

"I promise I was listening, but I have no idea whether that was a yes or a no."

He smiled. "See, that's because I don't know either."

"Oh-" She smiled back. "Right. Avoidance."

"I need a way to get onto the sand without my chair. Then I'm fine. Obviously, I am physically able to sit on a towel in sand and eat ice cream- that's not the problem. And you like the beach, so I definitely want to try."

"I never said I liked the beach, I said I like places you like."

"If you didn't like the beach, Jen would have never asked because she knew or, if she did because she didn't know your preferences, you would have just said no then instead of consulting me." He reasoned.

She exhaled a heavy breath. "You've turned from a parrot to a detective."

"I have." He agreed. "Now, call Jen back. Tell her to pick us up in five, but that we're stopping for some stuff on the way."

"All those hours you spent staring at your clothes, and you didn't bring swimming shorts. Honestly-" She sighed with a joking grin.

He chuckled. "Knew that was going to come up."

"Glad you could make it to the beach today."

He smiled, sinking his hand deeper into the sand. God, it had been years and years since he'd even seen it in real life, nevermind felt it. "Me too."

"I come here lots."

"I-" He smiled. "I don't. Not...you know, for any real reason. I just haven't."

"I'm going to be honest, man. I can kinda tell. You're pretty pale."

He chuckled. "I live in the hospital. I'm not surprised."

"Mmm." He agreed. "Now, I'm gonna go and get ice cream and hope that they stay gossiping while I'm gone so it can be a nice surprise- do you know what Meredith wants?"

"Strawberry. Forever and always."

He smiled. That was always her favourite, even back at the start of med school when they met. "And yourself?"

"I'm strange; coffee."

"Coffee isn't strange."

"I don't drink coffee. That's why it's strange. I just...eat it when it's in the form of cold, sugary spheres." He explained. "Oh- I mean, because it's a stimulant. Caffeine."

"Are stimulants bad for SCIs?"

"Migraines." He corrected.

"Oh. I didn't know about those."

"You weren't to. Don't worry. Everyone's just...I mean, it's understandable that everyone is most intrguied by my legs. But there are plenty of things that you can't see too that cause me...and- actually, like a massive percent of the population, an awful lot of pain. And you can't even tell by looks, but that doesn't at all mean that it isn't impacting someone. I face my own challenges as someone who- well, it's very obvious that there's at least something going on with me medically. But I'm not sure having an invisable disability is any better." He explained. "I'd say having none is best, but it's not us. It's...stupid people. If we had no stupid people, no one would even care for the difference between me and you."

He nodded. "I feel like I should pay to have a conversation with you. Everything you say is just...like, write a book man!"

He smiled. "Thanks. Lots of...passion, unfortunately fueled by idiots. But you give me hope. I know myself and an awful lot of my patients would love to have you as a doctor."

"Really?" He asked hopefully.

"Really. You're great, and she's lucky to have you. I'm such a hypocrite- but just try not to be so insecure. You seem like a really good man, really good doctor."

"You're insecure?" He asked. He'd only picked up on part of that sentence, and that was the fact that Derek was apparently a hypocrite when it came to self-esteem, that he, apparently, was insecure. "Like...you're the best neurosurgeon ever but you're insecure?"

"Only all the time."

"Why? You're absolutely epic, dude. Me, my attending and one other neuro friend talk about your surgical techniques 24/7. In fact, we're sad when you're not doing cool tumour removals because then we run out of things to talk about. And you're barely older than me. You are a legend."

"Really?"

"Definitely."

She sighed as she sat down next to him, a grin on her face.

"Hey." Derek greeted, noticing her out of the corner of his eye.

"Can I ask what you are doing?" She pondered. She'd helped him get a little further down the beach and nearer the sea, but she'd then looked back to see him lying, spread out over the floor. "It looks a bit weird."

"Just...feeling the sand." He muttered. "And my feet get washed over by the waves every few seconds. It feels nice."

"So you're just lying on the floor for the...sensory experience?"

"Neither New York nor Seattle has that many sandy beaches - or at least ones nearby. And even if I did grow up with lots of beaches, I haven't been able to go to one in almost two years now." He explained. "Mark asked me once. I had to say no. I wouldn't ever be seen wearing anything other than full length t-shirts and trousers. But...today-" He swallowed before smiling. "Today I am lying on a beach, with my girlfriend, as close to clothless as most people get in society and...smiling. Not at a joke for one whole second but like...permanently. I'm just lying here, smiling."

"You're happy."

"Very, very, very happy."

"My favourite thing in the world." She muttered, kissing him briefly before lying down beside him again, hands interlocking. She noted the cogs turning behind his eyes. "You okay?"

"I've just said I'm endlessly, stupidly happy."

"But you're doing lots of thinking."

"I am." He agreed simply.

"Normally lots of thinking is bad. For you, at least."

"Not this time." He smiled. "Today, right now, with you, I'm having happy thoughts."

She giggled at that; she couldn't help it. That was a first. "Really?"

"About how much I love you."

"Oh yeah?"

He smiled. "Oh, yes."

"Just...love and that's it? Anything else?

"Maybe. Probably."

"What do you mean, 'probably'?" She pondered.

"Just...there's some things I would like to talk abo-"

"Meredith! Derek!" Jennifer called from the place they had set up on the beach. "Harry's almost here with lunch now! Head back over!"

Meredith sighed. "Talk later, yeah?"

"Later." He agreed.