Are You Sure You're Alive?
Title: Are You Sure You're Alive? (1/1)
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: Mark/Cristina
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 460
Disclaimer: Here
For mrsfjl66
Summary: AU. Early Season 9. Mark visits Cristina in Minnesota.
Apparently all the adjectives in Minnesota had a competition, and “cold” won. It’s fine with her: along with all the adjectives it might be nice to use, the overwhelming sense of being cold, all the time, also trumps scared, lonely, painful, traumatized, shattered. She would continue but, thankfully, she’s much too cold.
He shows up on a Monday. A cold one. Underdressed, which bothers her (she put a lot of effort into saving his life and, according to Meredith and Skype, he was only discharged a week ago), so she finds Parker’s scarf and makes him wear it. The look on Parker’s face when he sees it, and Sloan, is priceless.
“Dr. Sloan,” he says, and they shake hands, exchange small talk, until he leaves, with a pointed look at her.
“You’re sleeping with that ass?!” Sloan asks, and she laughs, somewhere between how she sometimes laughs with Dr. Thomas and hysteria that he’s here, alive, and yet decidedly, heartbrokenly not his old self, or even the new one he kept trying to be.
She remembers his warmth, how she wanted to curl up with him and sleep, let go, if it came to it, die.
But she didn’t. She fought. She’s fighting still. Something tells her this is the reason he's here.
“Are you offering an alternative?” She tries to goad him to a smutty remark. “A better ass?”
He shrugs, neutral, weary, “I’m not really . . .” He trails off, then meets her eyes with his, questioning, searching for something, until a smile edges onto his lips. “You betcha it’s a better ass,” he says, still subdued, glancing down at the floor. “Better damn everything and,” he looks up, suddenly grinning in a way she can’t help returning, trying his best, “you’d know that if you hadn’t passed me up the first time you were offered.”
A beat.
“Okay,” she agrees. On the surface, it’s light; inside, her heart’s beating hard, the significance of sex with him, a man who is only alive because of her, who is connected, confusingly, intimately with everything she loves and can’t be near, almost overwhelming her.
Also, he’s right, Parker's an ass. If she’d known there were men like him in her future, she’d probably never have been so picky about Sloan.
In the on-call room, she knows he’s on autopilot, can almost hear him thinking about Lexie with every movement. But the network of ragged scars on his torso has healed well, the blood pumps through his veins, he holds her firmly, and everything works. Actually, pretty freaking well!
And when she wakes up later, for the first time in forever the reign of cold has been broken (at least for now), and she can finally describe herself as warm.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: Mark/Cristina
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 460
Disclaimer: Here
For mrsfjl66
Summary: AU. Early Season 9. Mark visits Cristina in Minnesota.
Apparently all the adjectives in Minnesota had a competition, and “cold” won. It’s fine with her: along with all the adjectives it might be nice to use, the overwhelming sense of being cold, all the time, also trumps scared, lonely, painful, traumatized, shattered. She would continue but, thankfully, she’s much too cold.
He shows up on a Monday. A cold one. Underdressed, which bothers her (she put a lot of effort into saving his life and, according to Meredith and Skype, he was only discharged a week ago), so she finds Parker’s scarf and makes him wear it. The look on Parker’s face when he sees it, and Sloan, is priceless.
“Dr. Sloan,” he says, and they shake hands, exchange small talk, until he leaves, with a pointed look at her.
“You’re sleeping with that ass?!” Sloan asks, and she laughs, somewhere between how she sometimes laughs with Dr. Thomas and hysteria that he’s here, alive, and yet decidedly, heartbrokenly not his old self, or even the new one he kept trying to be.
She remembers his warmth, how she wanted to curl up with him and sleep, let go, if it came to it, die.
But she didn’t. She fought. She’s fighting still. Something tells her this is the reason he's here.
“Are you offering an alternative?” She tries to goad him to a smutty remark. “A better ass?”
He shrugs, neutral, weary, “I’m not really . . .” He trails off, then meets her eyes with his, questioning, searching for something, until a smile edges onto his lips. “You betcha it’s a better ass,” he says, still subdued, glancing down at the floor. “Better damn everything and,” he looks up, suddenly grinning in a way she can’t help returning, trying his best, “you’d know that if you hadn’t passed me up the first time you were offered.”
A beat.
“Okay,” she agrees. On the surface, it’s light; inside, her heart’s beating hard, the significance of sex with him, a man who is only alive because of her, who is connected, confusingly, intimately with everything she loves and can’t be near, almost overwhelming her.
Also, he’s right, Parker's an ass. If she’d known there were men like him in her future, she’d probably never have been so picky about Sloan.
In the on-call room, she knows he’s on autopilot, can almost hear him thinking about Lexie with every movement. But the network of ragged scars on his torso has healed well, the blood pumps through his veins, he holds her firmly, and everything works. Actually, pretty freaking well!
And when she wakes up later, for the first time in forever the reign of cold has been broken (at least for now), and she can finally describe herself as warm.