A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy, Grey's Anatomy, Mark/Derek, PG-13
Title: A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: Mark/Derek
Rating: PG-13
Notes: More birthday fic for Lee! <333!!
“I really hate this trailer,” Mark says, and he flops down on the bed as Derek fishes two beers out of the fridge.
“Then go back to your hotel room.” Derek stands in the door way, a bottle in each hand, and smirks at him because it’s a challenge they both know he has already won.
Mark holds out his hand out with an impatient sigh, and Derek glances down at the beers in his hands for a moment, smirk still playing on his lips, before he gives one to Mark and wonders how all of this is so normal and yet not.
“So.” Mark places the bottle between his lips and tilts it back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drinks. “How are things with Meredith?”
Derek knows him well enough to know that he’s not asking because he cares or even to be polite. In fact, his intentions are decidedly uncaring and impolite. Derek can see in the careful way that Mark is trying not to watch him that he wants a little reassurance that he’s not alone on the dead end road of improbable relationships.
“Well, at least she hasn’t disappeared to California without a word of notice,” Derek replies.
Mark glances up at him, and for a second, Derek almost believes that he felt the sting that he intended. His eyes quickly shift back to the bottle in his hands, and Derek can see him trying to piece back together the aloof façade.
Derek takes a drink and tries not to think of the unsettling possibility that Mark actually, truly loves Addison.
“I really hate this trailer,” Mark says again, and it’s as if he’s trying to start the conversation again, reign it back in after it’s tread so close to dangerous territory.
“I told you--”
Mark shakes his head. “If I go back to the hotel, you’ll stay here.”
And it’s true because somehow Derek can only handle this in the dim light of the trailer on sheets that still smell of Meredith. So he nods and says, “Yes.”
“That’s what I thought,” Mark says, and he pushes off the bed to his feet, and Derek thinks that he shouldn’t be this fucking disappointed at the thought of Mark leaving now, but the slight panic in his chest is unmistakable, and he struggles to swallow it down.
This thing…it’s, well, it’s fucked is what is, but Derek has never been able to figure out if he’s doing the right thing until well after the fact, and Mark functions without the ability to even understand that there is a “right thing” about 99% of the time. Dark and twisty comes to mind, and Derek hasn’t been able to find a better description for the certain brand of masochism required for fucking the man who fucked your wife, the man who stood beside you at the altar when you married her, the man who set you on the path that led you to dark and twisty Meredith Grey who didn’t swim.
As Mark brushes past him, Derek is about to say that maybe just once they can go to the hotel, but Mark only sets his half-empty beer bottle on the counter, settles one hand on Derek’s hip, and kisses him without further discussion or pretense.
Nancy’s words ring in his head every time: It’s Mark. And who hasn’t gone there once or twice? And Derek is slowly beginning to understand them, that there is a certain reassurance, a certain familiarity and comfort that can only be found in Mark Sloan.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: Mark/Derek
Rating: PG-13
Notes: More birthday fic for Lee! <333!!
“I really hate this trailer,” Mark says, and he flops down on the bed as Derek fishes two beers out of the fridge.
“Then go back to your hotel room.” Derek stands in the door way, a bottle in each hand, and smirks at him because it’s a challenge they both know he has already won.
Mark holds out his hand out with an impatient sigh, and Derek glances down at the beers in his hands for a moment, smirk still playing on his lips, before he gives one to Mark and wonders how all of this is so normal and yet not.
“So.” Mark places the bottle between his lips and tilts it back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drinks. “How are things with Meredith?”
Derek knows him well enough to know that he’s not asking because he cares or even to be polite. In fact, his intentions are decidedly uncaring and impolite. Derek can see in the careful way that Mark is trying not to watch him that he wants a little reassurance that he’s not alone on the dead end road of improbable relationships.
“Well, at least she hasn’t disappeared to California without a word of notice,” Derek replies.
Mark glances up at him, and for a second, Derek almost believes that he felt the sting that he intended. His eyes quickly shift back to the bottle in his hands, and Derek can see him trying to piece back together the aloof façade.
Derek takes a drink and tries not to think of the unsettling possibility that Mark actually, truly loves Addison.
“I really hate this trailer,” Mark says again, and it’s as if he’s trying to start the conversation again, reign it back in after it’s tread so close to dangerous territory.
“I told you--”
Mark shakes his head. “If I go back to the hotel, you’ll stay here.”
And it’s true because somehow Derek can only handle this in the dim light of the trailer on sheets that still smell of Meredith. So he nods and says, “Yes.”
“That’s what I thought,” Mark says, and he pushes off the bed to his feet, and Derek thinks that he shouldn’t be this fucking disappointed at the thought of Mark leaving now, but the slight panic in his chest is unmistakable, and he struggles to swallow it down.
This thing…it’s, well, it’s fucked is what is, but Derek has never been able to figure out if he’s doing the right thing until well after the fact, and Mark functions without the ability to even understand that there is a “right thing” about 99% of the time. Dark and twisty comes to mind, and Derek hasn’t been able to find a better description for the certain brand of masochism required for fucking the man who fucked your wife, the man who stood beside you at the altar when you married her, the man who set you on the path that led you to dark and twisty Meredith Grey who didn’t swim.
As Mark brushes past him, Derek is about to say that maybe just once they can go to the hotel, but Mark only sets his half-empty beer bottle on the counter, settles one hand on Derek’s hip, and kisses him without further discussion or pretense.
Nancy’s words ring in his head every time: It’s Mark. And who hasn’t gone there once or twice? And Derek is slowly beginning to understand them, that there is a certain reassurance, a certain familiarity and comfort that can only be found in Mark Sloan.