Fic: Cat and Mouse (1/1)
Title: Cat and Mouse
Rating: R
Pairings: Mark/Derek, peripheral Meredith/Derek
Word Count: 768
Summary: A plus B doesn't always equal C. For ciaimpala, who requested "Mark/Derek; half of the pairing wrongly thinks the other is dead, and then they reunite." at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. Spoilers through 6.24 - Death and All His Friends.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: I don't know that I'm much cut out for writing these these characters, but I hope you enjoy it at least a little! :)
Cat and Mouse
The first words that come together on the whole situation are dead and Chief.
Those words send Mark Sloan’s world crashing down.
_______________________
People generally assume that Addison cheated on Derek, and Derek, understandably crushed and jaded, fled New York as a direct result. A plus B equals C.
It really wasn’t that simple.
They’d been friends for years, and Addi was their third fucking musketeer, for Christ’s sake; when she and Derek took up, Mark knew to keep his hands off.
In theory.
But the hours at the hospital got longer, and they all worked at cross purposes; they’d grab lunch every so often, but it was always rushed, always a hassle. Fuck, they’d cut the goddamn wedding reception short to catch a surgery. It was a recurring trend.
And then, Mark found Derek in the on call room, jerking one out at one in the morning with the door unlocked, and decided on a whim to help him out.
It was all downhill from there.
_______________________
He doesn’t realize he’s cracked fucking open until Callie’s got him by the shoulders, and is begging him to breathe.
She tells him not to listen, tells him people can’t possibly know anything yet, when they don’t, when they haven’t heard from anyone -- when Meredith hasn’t called Lexie and Owen hasn’t called Teddy and no one knows anything, no one.
She tells him not to listen, but he can’t hear her.
He just fucking can’t.
_______________________
People generally assume that Derek left because Addison was unfaithful.
That’s not entirely true.
Late night hand jobs turned into drunken fumbles in the back of cars, outside of bars in the dark; Derek sucked Mark off once, three sheets to the goddamned wind, and it turned from there into a routine, an arrangement -- no strings attached.
Except there were strings -- there were so many strings that they’d both been about to hang themselves with their collection of goddamn strings, and they never really saw it, they just didn’t see, until it was way too fucking late.
And maybe it was wrong; it was definitely hypocritical, but Mark’s since figured out that matters of things other than his dick don’t necessarily follow any rules. The heart wants what the heart wants, and all that shit.
So when Derek walked in on him buried deep in his wife as they both came hard, it was all over. His bags were packed and his flight was booked within the hour.
He never looked back.
Derek didn’t leave because Addison was unfaithful.
Derek left because Mark was.
And Mark still tells people that sleeping with his best friend’s wife was the worst possible decision he’d ever live to make. And maybe they don’t know the reasons, don’t understand what he means by the words -- but that doesn’t make it any less true.
_______________________
As soon as they hear something, anything real: the only words Mark needs are Derek, recovering, close call, almost, and he’s out the fucking door.
He gets into Seattle Grace by being a sneaky bastard, and if Derek’s alive in there, if he’s going to be fine like they say, Mark’s gonna tell him it did come in handy one day, being such a conniving prick.
He climbs the stairs three at a time, doesn’t bother to look, can’t see the blood they still haven’t cleaned -- he knows where Derek will be if he’s there, if he’s okay, and he’s close, he’s real close.
He stops outside the room, lets himself feel the whole of it when he sees Derek -- pale, unconscious, but breathing -- through the glass; sees Meredith close by, tear-stained and fragile next to him; he lets himself feel, cry for the first time since New York, and fuck, but it hurts.
Most people think Mark came out West to chase something.
Most people -- he thinks, as he watches Meredith stroke at Derek’s wrist, his fingers; most people are right.
And he never quite managed to catch what he came for, either; doesn’t think it’s likely that he ever will.
He’s pretty sure it was worth it anyway, though; just for the chase.
Rating: R
Pairings: Mark/Derek, peripheral Meredith/Derek
Word Count: 768
Summary: A plus B doesn't always equal C. For ciaimpala, who requested "Mark/Derek; half of the pairing wrongly thinks the other is dead, and then they reunite." at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. Spoilers through 6.24 - Death and All His Friends.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: I don't know that I'm much cut out for writing these these characters, but I hope you enjoy it at least a little! :)
Cat and Mouse
The first words that come together on the whole situation are dead and Chief.
Those words send Mark Sloan’s world crashing down.
_______________________
People generally assume that Addison cheated on Derek, and Derek, understandably crushed and jaded, fled New York as a direct result. A plus B equals C.
It really wasn’t that simple.
They’d been friends for years, and Addi was their third fucking musketeer, for Christ’s sake; when she and Derek took up, Mark knew to keep his hands off.
In theory.
But the hours at the hospital got longer, and they all worked at cross purposes; they’d grab lunch every so often, but it was always rushed, always a hassle. Fuck, they’d cut the goddamn wedding reception short to catch a surgery. It was a recurring trend.
And then, Mark found Derek in the on call room, jerking one out at one in the morning with the door unlocked, and decided on a whim to help him out.
It was all downhill from there.
_______________________
He doesn’t realize he’s cracked fucking open until Callie’s got him by the shoulders, and is begging him to breathe.
She tells him not to listen, tells him people can’t possibly know anything yet, when they don’t, when they haven’t heard from anyone -- when Meredith hasn’t called Lexie and Owen hasn’t called Teddy and no one knows anything, no one.
She tells him not to listen, but he can’t hear her.
He just fucking can’t.
_______________________
People generally assume that Derek left because Addison was unfaithful.
That’s not entirely true.
Late night hand jobs turned into drunken fumbles in the back of cars, outside of bars in the dark; Derek sucked Mark off once, three sheets to the goddamned wind, and it turned from there into a routine, an arrangement -- no strings attached.
Except there were strings -- there were so many strings that they’d both been about to hang themselves with their collection of goddamn strings, and they never really saw it, they just didn’t see, until it was way too fucking late.
And maybe it was wrong; it was definitely hypocritical, but Mark’s since figured out that matters of things other than his dick don’t necessarily follow any rules. The heart wants what the heart wants, and all that shit.
So when Derek walked in on him buried deep in his wife as they both came hard, it was all over. His bags were packed and his flight was booked within the hour.
He never looked back.
Derek didn’t leave because Addison was unfaithful.
Derek left because Mark was.
And Mark still tells people that sleeping with his best friend’s wife was the worst possible decision he’d ever live to make. And maybe they don’t know the reasons, don’t understand what he means by the words -- but that doesn’t make it any less true.
_______________________
As soon as they hear something, anything real: the only words Mark needs are Derek, recovering, close call, almost, and he’s out the fucking door.
He gets into Seattle Grace by being a sneaky bastard, and if Derek’s alive in there, if he’s going to be fine like they say, Mark’s gonna tell him it did come in handy one day, being such a conniving prick.
He climbs the stairs three at a time, doesn’t bother to look, can’t see the blood they still haven’t cleaned -- he knows where Derek will be if he’s there, if he’s okay, and he’s close, he’s real close.
He stops outside the room, lets himself feel the whole of it when he sees Derek -- pale, unconscious, but breathing -- through the glass; sees Meredith close by, tear-stained and fragile next to him; he lets himself feel, cry for the first time since New York, and fuck, but it hurts.
Most people think Mark came out West to chase something.
Most people -- he thinks, as he watches Meredith stroke at Derek’s wrist, his fingers; most people are right.
And he never quite managed to catch what he came for, either; doesn’t think it’s likely that he ever will.
He’s pretty sure it was worth it anyway, though; just for the chase.