"…can't believe she outlasted Lexie. We're never going to have an easy Valentine's—"

Meredith caught his last word with her mouth. She fisted his sweater in both hands, pulling him into the room, and barely stopped herself from slamming the door. She groped for the door handle to ease it shut. He caught her hips, and she used the distance he created to yank his sweater up. A moment later it landed with a whumph on a chair behind her. "Whoa, hey."

"No hey." Her fingers undid buttons with almost no distance between them. "Need you."

"That's the plan." He smiled, guiding her backward, and she exhaled. For a second, she thought—"Everything okay?"

She growled into his shoulder. "Can we not? Tonight, can we be normal? There's nothing new. See?" She tore her own sweater off, remembering just in time to get her right arm out first to ease the sleeve over the gauze on the left.

"Something kinda new." He caressed her belly with his fingertips, but lifted one hand almost immediately to catch the garment before she could toss it. "You like this sweater."

"S'why I wasn't shredding it."

"Feisty." He lopped the folded sweater at the seat of the chair his was draped on, following it with his shirt. "I have something for you." His hands returned to her back and he tucked his thumbs under the strap of her bra.

"Is this an 'in your pocket' joke?"

"Not ex—"

"It can wait. Book says sex can help prevent preterm labor, remember?"

"Uh, yeah, you've been crowing about it—"

"Shouldn't that mean 'screw the paranoid pregnant woman when she jumps you?'"

"I really need you to understand that I'm not saying 'no' here."

She jerked her shoulders up to spur him on while popping the button of her jeans and pulling the fly open with one hand. The shimmying it took to get them off hips made having them drop all the more of a win.

Before he could decide that the pool of denim needed to be freaking ironed or something, she grabbed his belt and hoisted herself onto the bed. Finally, he undid the clasp he'd been toying with, and started inching one strap down off her shoulder, following it with his tongue. He chuckled at the mewl that escaped her lips. The vibrations only got stronger when she fumbled his belt buckle, and the heat blazing through her became ferocity. She grabbed the wrist of his idle hand and tugged. He'd gotten so skilled at doing things one-handed, he could deal with the belt himself.

"Ah, this is a 'you can't wait' situation," he murmured. "Put a pin in this. There'll be irony later."

"No ironing," she muttered, finally planting his hand against the crotch of her panties.

She'd been going to pull them off. She was going to fling away the bra still hanging off one shoulder. She was going to let him fill her; she needed him to, more than anything.

He slid his fingers under the elastic on her leg and made contact with her clit. Her sigh sounded too pure to belong to anything other than a porno. She saw the echo of it in his pupils, and her grip on his wrist tightened. He laughed again and kissed her forehead. The shift of his weight jolted a full-bodied, "Ahhh," from her,

"Like this, gorgeous?" he asked, bending the fingers she was holding against her. The ache to have him inside her was still there, somewhere, but everything else filling her—desire, arousal, blood, blood, blood—was more immediate. "That what you need?"

"So bad."

"So good. Pop up for me."

She let go of his wrist as he peeled her panties off, holding one leg bent for him, the other straining to reclaim the tension of having them pressed together. He licked his lips as he traced her labia, dipping into the wetness of her cunt. His quick fingers brought the molten heat down, teased her clit up, and her hips didn't know where they wanted to be.

She didn't realize she was biting her lip until he ran his thumb along it. She took his hand, pulling it down to her chest. I'm okay. She hoped that was in her eyes, because she didn't have words. She had so much else, so much feeling, so much sound, so much bliss. So much more than okay.

She moaned as her body strained in response to the pressure he was putting on her ballooning clit, rocking, and then thrashing as he rubbed. Brilliant man, knowing when to forgo toying and teasing.

She barely caught the sly smile on his face before two fingers of his right hand were stroking the inside of her cunt. She cried out until her voice was caught in her throat, and then everything was caught in her nerves. The grunt that resulted from her release seemed nothing like that initial sigh, and yet, it was the same relief multiplied by a hundred, a thousand, an infinite, incalculable amount.

Somehow, it was that for Derek, too. He'd made up for her reneging on her side of the belt deal by the time she could roll her eyes away from the ceiling. She shoved up onto her knees, ending up draped over him, not unlike her sweater draped over the chair.

"Sorry," she said, her words still mostly breath.

"If that's true, I'm reading something very wrong. Can I give you—?"

"You can take me."

"Uh-huh." He reached his thumb over, gently tweaking her prepuce and she yanked her legs up, pressing her face into his shoulder, her ready turned into a whimper. "Thought so."

"JP in the V, tale as old as time. Old-fashioned fuck story"

"Yeah…. Alternative suggestion." He turned, catching her lips in a kiss mean to clear the "yeah, what?"'s from her mind. "We can do that for a while, give you a chance to recover."

"Baby'll want in. Someone'll show up. Hospital'll explode."

"I will fiddle you while Grace burns."

"Big words, bub," she said. "Come on, just—" Fuck yourself with me. The reason for his reluctance came into focus.

She reached around taking his cock in her hand and idly spreading pre-cum up his shaft. His eyes closed for long enough for her to consider if she could swing himself around and down before he processed. The almost inaudible moan that should've been her starting buzzer only got through to the still quivering muscles in her cunt.

"I don't think the hospital's what's most likely to explode here. I want to feel you. Don't just fuck me. Let me feel how you love me."

He cupped her cheek and then kissed her, hungrily this time as he settled behind her. He let her guide his hands to her hips, and the heat of his mouth stamped the skin of her back as she leaned forward. Did he prefer it, knowing he wasn't going to find a mark on that side?

"What is it, love?"

How does he do that?

Except, couldn't she tell if something was wrong from a distance where someone else might not even recognize his hair?

"I…It's…." Nothing. Can we be normal? For once, it never being just one thing was a blessing. "Last time I was in this position, Cristina texted pause." She'd been on the verge of starting up with Owen again. All she knew about that came from Alex, now. "Thank you for not treating me like I'm broken." It was easier to say not facing him, but she couldn't look back to see his face. She couldn't.

"You're not—"

"Whether I am or not."

"Okay," he said, adjusting her hips. "For the record, I will never see you as broken. Dealing with a form of chronic pain, sure. Do I wish you weren't experiencing it, or it was less severe, sure. But you're not broken. And you're not causing it."

The pull of the scar on her shoulder begged to differ, and the gauze covering her forearm was an oppressive warmth no matter how the rest of her body felt.

"I wish you always believed that you're as incredible as I know you are." Ragged edges appeared in his voice, and she drew in an anticipatory breath. He wouldn't tease the edge of her cunt this time, although by this point—

She groaned as he entered her. Her head spun with the blend of elation and fullness and pressure. When he stopped she grappled at the comforter until she could grab it, using the resistance to fight the impulse to sink and squirm until all she could feel was him sheathed and straining in her cunt.

His hands migrated upward to her belly, following the path of the stretch-marks that had not been there long enough for him to know them the way he did. He'd mapped every scar too, whether or not he could see. Them. He went over her body most nights, and for the past couple of weeks, she'd wondered if he'd be doing it anyway. If, except for the dressings and the discovery of half-moons she didn't know she'd pinched into her skin, he'd be mounting similar missions to memorize her. The changes were less abrupt, except for the day where the double-takes started in the halls, and she'd been ready to deck the next person who'd whispered popped in her vicinity.

"Sore today?" he murmured, clearing her hair off the back of her neck.

"Not much."

He shook his head, his nose brushing against the top of her spine. "Better here," he said dragging his nails over her middle. "Or here?" She gasped and arched toward him as he cupped her boobs. The angle plunged him further into her. His mouth was pressed against her shoulder, his hands splayed, and his cock jerked.

His fingers dug in, kneading the underside of her boobs, and he put his lips to work sucking along her neck with the rhythm of his thrust. Whatever tenderness there had been there was gone, replaced by a different discomfort that increased with every heartbeat, every vibration that passed from his mouth into her veins. His thumbs circled her nipples, and she reached backward, burying her hand in his hair and pulling herself up. She shuddered with the increased tension, and then drooped against Derek's chest as his cock passed over the front of her cunt. As soon as she could, she raised her ass up. This time it wasn't as hard not to smash herself down. Expecting the sensation only made it better. The pulse demanding that the same attention he'd been giving her tits had become an urgent throb. Figuring out how to stay at that angle while moving was already more complicated than it had been a few weeks ago.

Derek tilted his head dragging a kiss along the line of her jaw. "Need a hand, gorgeous?"

"Joke's dead," she protested after finally getting her fingers into place. "Been two months."

"Not for three days."

"But who's…counting?" The vowels in the last word were hijacked by an intense frisson that she could swear she felt in every nerve of her body. Derek's hands stilled momentarily, holding her even while his thrusts got more urgent.

Should've had the freaking cock ring in hand when he got in the room. She wasn't ready to lose the completion she felt with him inside her. Every time her muscles went taut the way he stretched her was more satisfying. She was warm and safe and whole like this and she wanted to stay that way forever.

Beads of perspiration gathered on her back, and Derek chased them with his tongue, then swirled it over her shoulder blades. Shoulder. Blades. Her awareness shifted to the pink line that was between his hand and the spot his lips were touching, but only for a second. There were far more important places vying for her attention. She scrubbed at her clit, thinking that catching him up was her best option. A switch flipped somewhere between there and her brain, upping the intensity of every moment.

Derek shifted a hand up and tipped her forward, plunging further into her. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Here." She brought his other hand down to replace hers and flattened her palms on the bed. He continued the circling as she found the right rhythm, and then took her glans between his thumb and forefinger, and then let them slide off, pulling slightly. She cried out in surprise, and then with his steady reputations. Her spine arced, and she extended her arms, canting her hips to meet his thrusts.

"Christ, Mer, that's it, that's right."

It's not. She didn't know where the thought came from. Everything was perfect. Derek covered her and started rubbing a moment before she knew she needed it. She moaned, throwing her head back. The ends of her hair brushed her spine, and out of nowhere, his fingers raked through it. His knuckles touched the same sensitive spot, and he closed his hand, gathering as many strands as he could. She could almost feel his thoughts along with the rushed pulse in his dick. Doing this had been nothing before the plane crash, but it was something, now. He'd told her she wasn't broken. She wanted to be normal.

Please, please. She could hardly breath with her lips pressed together so firmly. All she wanted in the world was for him to pull her hair. Please, Derek.

She had no idea how long he actually took to wrap her hair around his hand. He started to say her name, in what might have been a question, but as his fist approached her scalp his pelvis jerked, and the second syllable got lost. She wasn't sure he meant to pull when he did, only that he did, at the same time his hand tugged upward on her clit, and the tip of his dick touched her cervix.

"Yes, yes, yes," she repeated until he went slack and she could grab the arm extended across her body and twist up to kiss him.

"Hey," he panted, brushing his nose against hers. "Like that?"

"A lot. Don't need it for…. Not going anywhere."

His eyes flitted away from hers. "It'd be okay if you did. I may've made the wrong call there. The times I've been there when you…. It's not the same thing."

She hesitated. How straight was the line from hair-pulling, to rubber band snapping, to last week? "Not exactly. It does…. I don't know, remind me that even pain is…is being alive."

"You're not gone. And if you are…. It's natural for a mind to move fast and far during sex. You spin webs, and sometimes you get stuck for a second. When you're worked up you're caught. Too tangled up for me to get you out."

She spluttered, the back of her hand against her mouth. "Not you! Not laughing at you! Alex…that's the code word. Tangled."

"My Rapunzel. That's who you should be to the interns. Out there, you were giving everything to heal us. If the story was honest, it would hurt to have her hair climbed—we'd admire how she powers through it to haul the prince up and save herself." He smiled and kissed her.

"I just started really seeing those differences." She'd been afraid to think too much about how horrible that night had been for him. All the nights she'd spiraled. But he still smiled and kissed her. His fingers teased until she whined into his mouth. The interlude had lasted long enough to strengthen the promise on the edge of her consciousness, and the return of pressure and friction drew it quickly forward. She pushed up with her hands on his knees, and just when she felt like she was going to shatter like some delicate piece of china, Derek murmured, "Hey, bright eyes."

She expected the tug on her hair and more than welcomed the application of his lips behind her ear, but didn't anticipate what he said next. "Close them."

The idea was appealing enough that while she responded with an almost automatic "Huh?" she followed the direction.

"Still with you."

"Still in me," she countered.

"That a complaint?"

"Unh-uh. Like it. Stay. Stay an' lemme feel you get…oh, oh boy, there, there. Oh yeah, oh yeah, got it. Fuck, fuck yes, coming so hard, don't stop, don't let it stop. Agh-ah-Derek!"

She curled forward, adding tension to his grip on her hair. The blast of pleasure pushed a long moan from her and left her viscous in his arms. He released her hair, and ran his fingers lightly over her scalp. The hand on her clit stayed there, lightly encouraging the small residual twitches.

"Mmm."

"Good mmm?"

"Mmhmm." She wrested her eyes open. "This is a normal Valentine's Day for us, y'know."

"It's not that unusual of a Tuesday."

"Complaint?"

"There's still time to make it stand out."

"It better not be jewelry."

"Yeah, I have learned a few things over the years." He shifted her onto the bed. She regretted losing his proximity, but she didn't think it would last. He rarely took long to rouse.

The bag he produced was small, which didn't preclude jewelry. (She gave him crap about the cliché, but the man had taste.)

When she opened it, she thought she might understand exactly how fully Derek Shepherd had changed. How she had changed him. She laughed as she took the package out, and just as she thought to tell him he'd better have batteries, she noticed the small box at the bottom of the bag.

"Ever a Boy Scout," she teased. He took the hard plastic package and worked it open with the multi-tool he kept on his keychain. "I can't believe you bought me a vibrator!"

"Why not?"

"Two years ago, you turned into a tomato when I gave you the cock-ring you knew I'd bought."

"That was then. This," he said, screwing the battery cap on. "Is now. And I figured you'd like it more than a tennis bracelet."

"I'll get more bang for your buck, for sure." The vibrator fit in the palm of her hand, and was designed to look like a lipstick. "That's not symbolic, is it?"

"Huh?" Derek looked up. From clearing away the packaging, he'd oh-so-casually gone over to the sitting area and while turning on the gas fireplace—okay, yeah, he'd definitely planned to make this slightly romantic, and she'd jumped him. Whatever, they got there—plucked her sweater off the chair to fold.

She gestured, and then rolled her eyes at herself. "We talk about these," she said, plucking at the edge of the gauze on her forearm. It was healed enough that a band-aid, Sesame Street or otherwise, could cover it and be less obtrusive, but she didn't trust herself…. Fine, she was scared of what her brain would do with that signal. The moments where she was most aware of the line on her shoulder were at work, where finding something else to do was easy. She didn't think it'd be the same with this one.

"It's the size of a banana; my anatomy scan is scheduled. That's all the book gave us this week. And that's all we…. You only bring up my boobs when we're having sex, and then just in the context of not hurting me. My quim has changed color, I've had a visible linea nigra for a week, and I know I've been weird, but…talking about it isn't going to trigger me. I…I want this—"

"I know you—"

"—and I can't just act like I believe it'll all be hunky-dory, but I don't want to pretend it's not happening. This could be the only time it does."

He'd returned to the bed while she spoke, and at that he rested his hand on her belly. The fetus was probably blasted on oxytocin. Kid needed it, sharing a body with her and her malfunctioning stress response.

"Is that something that's made you feel broken?"

"Sorta. Or…not to be a girl about it, but…you like the pink."

"I like you."

"Derek."

"I'm serious. I was serious when I said I'd love you if you were green. If you think anything to do with you carrying our baby is a turn-off, you can breathe that thought out."

She laughed. "Not quite. I do see you looking at me. Just…I wasn't sure if you'd been.…Not always, but sometimes…taking care of me to take care of me."

"Ah; hence this?" he asked, taking the vibrator from her. She bit her lip and nodded. "Hm. You know—" He twisted the bottom of the fake lipstick, putting it on the lowest setting. The buzz was quiet as the package promised; although, if it was as powerful as advertised, the sound it made might not be the issue. He touched it to the soft area just off her clavicle. "—there have been two facets to this increased sex drive of yours. Both nicely demonstrated this evening."

He drew little twos down her arm, and she snickered to herself at the thought of Mousey practicing for Lexie's ASI-Exam. This was more like how he'd taught her how to do one.

"There's the matter of increased blood-flow, with is part of what's bringing out those lovely shades of red and purple." He traced the dark line that now went from her navel along to her genitals; a temporary happy trail. He made a wide circle around her clit, pressing down to awaken the nerves there. "It's why it didn't take much work to get that muscle under your eye twitching. But all the muscle contraction that happened so soon after that wasn't all you needed, was it?" He clicked the vibrator's intensity up, and those same muscles clenched in anticipation. "We're not talking about your orgasm drive."

"That sounds like the best idea the Red Cross ever had."

He side-eyed her. She winked and put a hand behind her head. A muscle in his jaw twitched. A short beat later, he cracked up. He was a generally upbeat guy, but surprising him enough to get real laughter always felt like an achievement.

"You were saying I didn't just want to get off; I wanted you," she offered when he was back to looking at her like she was sort of miraculous. That was a conclusion he came to sometimes, but it was actually true about the kicking thing under his hand.

It was true, even if….

Would qualifying like that actually help her handle the if better?

"Was I?" He circled the very buzzy device on her thigh. It was one of the universe's many jokes that she'd ended up with a partner who loved doing this. Give her control over the intensity, and she'd have easily been passing four at this point. He refracted at a decent speed, so the universe might not totally hate—

She dove for the side table drawer on his side, which held the sex stuff. Her side had baby stuff—Baby, sex, B.S. bullshit, junk drawers—and if you needed wipes, cloths, Vaseline, or a thermometer you were good either way.

"Babe, we do have work tomorrow," Derek said. His eyes were fixed on the box she'd grabbed though. "And what I was about to say was that this is for issue one." He circled her clit again. "But while you have options for issue two." His loopy two went around her areola. "This is not one. So while it might be helpful when there's an interruption, it's not a replacement for what we're doing here."

There had been times. A page during the one night Zola had gone toSofia's, and they'd taken a shift together. The call from his finance guy in his office. Ross at the supply closet door.

"I can get off fast with one of these," she acknowledged. "Again, and again. Hard." She could absolutely see the mechanisms of his brain working in the visible swelling of his cock…. Deep down, she might not have believed he'd mind the changes in color. Watching him go from flaccid to erect more than turned her on, it fascinated her in the same way.

"We'll see." The application of the vibrator to her tit became tight, purposeful circles, and she hummed appreciatively. Even in tiny-form, there was a reason these things got billed as massagers. "You may be done before that's on the table."

"Because it takes you soooo long to get it up when you're blasting me," she taunted.

"I'm not saying it does."

She felt his index finger travel over the baby bump, and through her pubes, but somehow that didn't lead to expecting it on the spot marked by the x. A few strokes and the same fingertip wiggled atop her glans. Bursts of pleasure travelled straight down, with no sign of taking time to be relayed through her spinal cord to her brain, translated into chemicals, and decoded again.

She couldn't imagine what it would feel like without that drop, but it'd be good. Lexie's hollowed-out Pride and Prejudice was in the bedside table drawer; she had to have tried it, right? Or were her boobs like Meredith's had been a few months ago; too sensitive to go all the way? They hadn't talked about it since October.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm with you."

"I know." He flipped the vibrator to roll it down. She tensed with anticipation, but at the peak of her belly he rolled it to the side. On the other hand, literally, he pressed his finger down.

"Mmm, little faster. Ahh, yeah. Feels so nice. Can't imagine…. I told Lexie that without sex we'd be okay. Could happen 'cause of the hormones. D'you think—? Ohh."

"More than nice?"

She nodded, and then gasped at the increased vibrations. He watched her acclimate; her breath quickening and catching; her legs sliding all over the sheets.

The next thing she knew, he'd was kissing her, and the vibrator was in his hand. He held it up against his palm so she could just feel the ghost of the buzzing. "One….Two….Three."

She cried out at the shift, repeating a smaller version of the sound as he rolled it up from one end of her cunt to a little bit above her glans. "I think," he said, into her ear. "This is one part of our marriage. You could say it's how we started. Although, I remember just wanting to know you. To make you laugh.

"I love being with you, Meredith. Whatever we're doing. If you're not into it after the baby is born, and we have time to fill, we'll go over neuro techniques, or parenting books like we did waiting for Zo. Maybe actually watch a movie, occasionally."

"Dream big." She wrapped her arms around him; his laughter a rumble against her hands. "Can you turn it up like—oh-kay, that's…I'm….it's..." She held her mouth against his shoulder, letting her teeth push against her lips, and her cry came out more like a whine.

"You are up," he said. "You ready for the comedown?"

"Notta choice. Gonna-ah-ah-ah…. " She couldn't stay muffled, and she tossed her head back, finally letting herself drop onto the pillow. Derek's expression was bemused, but that disappeared once she got her hands working over her body.

"There you go. Show me what feels good."

"Everywhere." That was why she couldn't figure out where to put her hands. Didn't he get that? Where was—? "Press it down. Yeah, yeah, roll it right there, right against—" Okay his left hand was sweeping sweaty hair out of her face, and that made it easy to drag it down to her breast and grab the top of the headboard— "Oh-oh-oh yes!" She laced her fingers with his and used thet for resistance, stretching. "It's so good. So strong, so, so, so… Don't stop, don't stop yet, s'not stopping not stopping, still there, still ha-happening. Oh-yeah, oh-fuck, yeah, fuuuck yes!"

He moved and clicked off the vibrator as soon as her body went lax. Then, he busied himself kissing the tingling skin of her breasts. She smoothed his disheveled curls until he raised his head and kissed her. Thanks to having popped, whenever he moved the smallest amount, his cock touched her, reminding her of her plan.

"Hey," she buffed her nails along the back of his neck. "Sit up."

He raised up on one arm. "Too much?"

"Not what I said." She pushed his shoulder, guiding him back onto his knees. Again, it would've been easy to grab his shoulders, and impale herself, or to lower her mouth to suck him off in reciprocity. But that wasn't their thing, and she wasn't ready to fold. She picked up the box she'd dropped to have use of her hands.

"You're the one who told me we have all night. For once, I wasn't tired enough to almost fall asleep reading Corduroy, and tomorrow's gonna be a slow, sucky day. The E.R. is gone, and the PR people are gonna be stalking Alex and Jackson. I'll happily go through it as a well-fucked zombie."

Derek laughed. Point, Meredith.

"We've been focused on me a lot lately. Which, y'know, it's how this works, right? It shifts. What's bad is if we're never focused on each other.

"It's hard to be a Valentine's Day person when it starts with making your mom pretty things, becomes a popularity contest, and ends up being about fake displays of something I didn't believe in. With you around, it hasn't been so bad—Although, I don't think I've learned much about the holiday. What I do know is, it isn't about me. It's about us. We survived a plane crash. We…We made something that's…that's gonna be a baby." Sofia survived at 23.5. Two and a half more weeks. Little fetus, please don't make Momma a liar. Would also really prefer it if we don't have to call in Addison.

Derek smiled and stroked the apple of her cheek with his thumb. "We got my wrist fixed. Without you, I'd have insisted on the cadaver nerve. I'm sorry—"

She leaned forward, touching her nose to his. "No apologies. Not tonight. N-Not because you think…. You being a jackass for a few weeks isn't why—It…. I started after we…. I don't understand why…." She stopped. Derek was rubbing her shoulders, a tiny, normal thing, but also a thin lifeline. She took a shaky breath. Another, smoother. "You being there for…with me since? It's much bigger than that. It made…. This thing is mine. I came with it. Defective outta the package. You made it ours. I survive things. We do more than that. We move forward…and go back, and…we thrive, so it feels like…even after last week…. It feels like I can get through this."

"Of course you can. That's not me, Meredith—"

"It's us. We're raising that precious, brilliant baby girl. Th-They were right that she's better with both of us. We're better with both of us."

"That's why I don't know how I…." His lips went thin, and she smoothed her fingers over the shadows on his face.

"You've made me happy more than you have hurt me."

She opened the box, and he didn't say anything. His eyes said everything; he knew she wouldn't say that if it wasn't true. Somehow, they were even.

They'd used the cock ring more since condoms moved into their past, and, on her end, that was mostly owed to this part. She'd wondered if she'd miss them, after nearly twenty years of strict no glove, no love sex. The lack of a barrier, the strange new sensation of having him shoot off inside of her, it'd been different, but definitely not in a negative way. All she'd missed was the initial interaction. It'd become something intimate and uniquely theirs. That it didn't happen every time now made it special, but she thought there was an imbalance to be made up for. It wasn't like she didn't look into his eyes or handle his cock at other points, but there was a difference when it was in the course of things.

Guys, with their sensitive junk hanging out, were conditioned to hide their vulnerability, but there were times when the mask slipped. Derek's disappeared when he came, but her focus was usually split, then, and the moment was quick. While she was moving something that stretched and snapped; she could see it all. There'd been times where seeing the depth of trust had astonished her. Tonight, the squeeze in her heart ignited the heat that lurked behind her eyes lately.

The sheen must have been visible, but he didn't say anything. He lay back and held his hands out to her, helping her stay balanced while getting a leg over.—Funny how people associated a girl being on her knees with blowjobs; she'd been on hers half the night—Before she lowered herself onto him, he brought her left arm closer, and kissed the wrap on it, directly over the cut. Then he placed her hands on his chest.

"Hey, there's one perk for you," she observed.

"What's that?"

"I've been keeping my nails super short, even though it's a pain in the ass, so I can't dig them into my skin. You won't come out of this looking like a wet cat went at you."

"You know I'd take your cat scratches any day."

She inclined her head, not wanting to totally blow the mood by pointing out that was a cycle they might need to break. If she hadn't wanted to take on everyone's pain, hadn't believed it should've been her, "cat scratches" wouldn't have a double meaning.

She exhaled, letting the thought go as she shifted downward.

The mood did change as the night went on, but not in a negative way; not in a way that took her back to questioning.

"There's no way the car woke her, and that didn't," he said, settling into bed beside her. "Think it's the sugar crash?"

"Not like we've woken her before."

"Baby, there were entirely unique sounds tonight. I have new heights to aim for." She tried to muffle the hopeful eep that that promise evoked, but he snickered. "Did we make it to well-fucked zombie?"

"Gonna be well-rested, fully—"

The crash was distant. Lexie's room wasn't directly under Zola's, but it was closer. Sure enough, at the exact moment the toddler started to cry; Lexie's "help needed" buzzer sounded through the speaker by their bed.

"—fucked," Meredith finished.

"Bring Zola in here, and try to go on to sleep. I'll help Lex," Derek said, getting up.

"You don't think—?"

"Mama, Ma-maaa!"

That answered that. Whatever Zola remembered about the last time she'd woken up and wanted Meredith hadn't stopped her from calling for her the next time she was scared in the dark. She donned the pajamas Derek tossed her as quickly as she'd taken his clothes off. At the door, once she'd promised Zola that she was on her way, he took her arm. "Happy Valentine's Day."

She kissed him, letting herself bury her fingers into his hair for a moment. "The bar's at fighting about a serial killer," she reminded him. "Besides, it's after midnight. Whatever comes next, you gave me one of the best Valentine's Days I've had. And it was a pretty great Tuesday."