Eight Second Fluctuation
title: Eight Second Fluctuation
fandom: Grey's Anatomy
summary: He was a part of an infallible statistic. The sort of statistic that never wavered, never changed, never altered the game. Yeah, was pretty sure he was one of those. This was probably one of those little fluctuations that sometimes happened with statistics, but soon he would be back to his old, straight line self.
characters/pairings: Mark Sloan, Mark/Lexie
genre(s): General/Romance
rating: PG-13
note: For the lovely
abvj. This is a little exploration of Mark as he's going into a relationship with Lexie. So...Happy birthday, hun, hope you enjoy this. :)
~*~
There had to be an end somewhere.
He was a part of an infallible statistic. The sort of statistic that never wavered, never changed, never altered the game. Yeah, he was pretty sure he was one of those. This was probably one of those little fluctuations that sometimes happened with statistics, but soon he would be back to his old, straight line self.
(He used to be absolutely sure and unbothered by statistics and whatever it was that he did or did not pertain to.)
*
He had been to enough seminars to know that each consisted of, more or less, the same.
Steps to [insert goal here].
He/She is a personality type [insert letter or color].
The key to success is [insert key here].
In the end, it is not about the destination, but rather the journey. [insert dramatic pause here]
And of course the money. [Insert laughs here.]
The routine and mediocrity of it all tired Mark out. He always felt they were just as outlined and processed as relationships.
(He always looked forward to seminars ending.)
*
There were the small moments, the rare times in which he didn’t know whether change would be a good thing or not, and in those rare times he hated being in-between, hated not knowing what he wanted.
But he also hated the knowing parts--because knowing what one wants ushers in motive, and motive is like ambition, and ambition involves wanting so badly, one may be capable of crossing any lines to acquire that which wants. And when a person doesn’t win--when they lose, things tend to fall apart. Either that, or said person just keeps on with life and their ambitions.
(But the hurt, as well hidden or deep down as it may be, still runs through you as he experienced with Addison).
*
His therapist often threw out the words fear and escape. Mark Sloan synonymous with fear and the need to run away? He always laughed, signed the checks, sent them the way of his therapist, then laughed some more.
(He should have stopped going ages ago but once in awhile he enjoyed hearing the honest to God truth about himself.)
*
There came this woman, beautiful but young. He asked her, nearly begged her, to stop. To leave him. She did neither, and he didn’t know it then, but he gave in to more than just temptation when he finally kissed her.
(But he, in the course of the moment, he did not attempt to leave, nor did he do any more than put up his hand and say “stop” because in all honesty, he hadn’t been very opposed to the idea of neither of them turning and walking away.)
*
He enjoyed surprising people. The wide-eyed, parched throats, frozen expressions were always fun to witness play out over people’s faces.
On the other hand, he hated people surprising him--unless of course, people were actually quite attractive women trying some new, out of character, but sexy seduction moves on him.
On that never-would-have thought hand was this seemingly young and naïve woman by the name of Lexie Grey. Younger sister to that dirty mistress Meredith Grey who so happened to hit on Dr. Derek Shepherd one night at that Emerald Bar. And oh yeah, she was an intern with a photogenic memory, and the nicknames Lexipedia and Little Grey.
Every day that went on, she became more and more her own person. Okay, well that’s incorrect. She had always been her own person, but as their nights together became more frequent and their days in each other’s company lengthened, he realized more and more who she was. Every day that went on, he learned something new, and it was always something about her. Old memories and facts grew more and more vague as they were replaced with memories and facts about--with her.
Some days he just wanted to tell the person nearest him something about this young, but not naïve woman. But he knew he would ramble on, repeating himself over and over, without an apparent point, the lines of sentences blurring together like some old chant that had been sung a million times over by a dozen hundred or so before him, and he would be that old fool caught up in a woman and…
He laughed. He probably was.
(He always stopped himself from rambling, because it was simple but true--Lexie was great, and you’d get a good lecture or two if you for one second doubted it.)
*
One time, he asked Derek if he, Mark, had gone insane. Derek laughed and said, “yes” and after a pause, added, “congratulations--you’ve earned yourself a heart”.
Derek also went on to add that it was just that typical period any person in love went through. Mark had scoffed. He never told Derek that he loved Lexie, although Mark had come to the conclusion a couple of days back; he had only told Derek that lately, all he wanted was to talk about Lexie when he wasn’t with her.
Derek ignored the scoff and said, “we’re all susceptible to it, Mark, no need to bury your head in shame.”
They both let the silence spread between them, and just relished the night air and the feel of the beers washing down their throats.
(Mark had never understood Derek better than then, and things were right and steady in his life all-around for the first time.)
*
Words were just a way to stall things. They always had been. For things to get done, you had to cut to the chase, not mince words, just spit it out, and cut the bullshit.
With her, as he spoke he felt like he just wasn’t saying enough. He told her things plain and simple, but he felt stupid for not being able to say them better. Like maybe, because he had always heard Derek sound at least a bit more eloquent with women and was able to keep them around longer, he was doing it all wrong.
When she smiled after his small blurts of honesty, the self-berating would end and he was just himself again.
Often she said “I know” to whatever it was he said, like she knew him well enough and was reminding him “I know what you feel and what you want, and I don’t require you to say a thing because I know”. That spark of connection that took eight seconds to communicate between the two of them took them farther than the most well-honed string of words could achieve.
(Maybe there was an end somewhere, but for however long he would gladly enjoy being the line that went off the marker and caused the fluctuation.)
fandom: Grey's Anatomy
summary: He was a part of an infallible statistic. The sort of statistic that never wavered, never changed, never altered the game. Yeah, was pretty sure he was one of those. This was probably one of those little fluctuations that sometimes happened with statistics, but soon he would be back to his old, straight line self.
characters/pairings: Mark Sloan, Mark/Lexie
genre(s): General/Romance
rating: PG-13
note: For the lovely
abvj. This is a little exploration of Mark as he's going into a relationship with Lexie. So...Happy birthday, hun, hope you enjoy this. :)
~*~
There had to be an end somewhere.
He was a part of an infallible statistic. The sort of statistic that never wavered, never changed, never altered the game. Yeah, he was pretty sure he was one of those. This was probably one of those little fluctuations that sometimes happened with statistics, but soon he would be back to his old, straight line self.
(He used to be absolutely sure and unbothered by statistics and whatever it was that he did or did not pertain to.)
*
He had been to enough seminars to know that each consisted of, more or less, the same.
Steps to [insert goal here].
He/She is a personality type [insert letter or color].
The key to success is [insert key here].
In the end, it is not about the destination, but rather the journey. [insert dramatic pause here]
And of course the money. [Insert laughs here.]
The routine and mediocrity of it all tired Mark out. He always felt they were just as outlined and processed as relationships.
(He always looked forward to seminars ending.)
*
There were the small moments, the rare times in which he didn’t know whether change would be a good thing or not, and in those rare times he hated being in-between, hated not knowing what he wanted.
But he also hated the knowing parts--because knowing what one wants ushers in motive, and motive is like ambition, and ambition involves wanting so badly, one may be capable of crossing any lines to acquire that which wants. And when a person doesn’t win--when they lose, things tend to fall apart. Either that, or said person just keeps on with life and their ambitions.
(But the hurt, as well hidden or deep down as it may be, still runs through you as he experienced with Addison).
*
His therapist often threw out the words fear and escape. Mark Sloan synonymous with fear and the need to run away? He always laughed, signed the checks, sent them the way of his therapist, then laughed some more.
(He should have stopped going ages ago but once in awhile he enjoyed hearing the honest to God truth about himself.)
*
There came this woman, beautiful but young. He asked her, nearly begged her, to stop. To leave him. She did neither, and he didn’t know it then, but he gave in to more than just temptation when he finally kissed her.
(But he, in the course of the moment, he did not attempt to leave, nor did he do any more than put up his hand and say “stop” because in all honesty, he hadn’t been very opposed to the idea of neither of them turning and walking away.)
*
He enjoyed surprising people. The wide-eyed, parched throats, frozen expressions were always fun to witness play out over people’s faces.
On the other hand, he hated people surprising him--unless of course, people were actually quite attractive women trying some new, out of character, but sexy seduction moves on him.
On that never-would-have thought hand was this seemingly young and naïve woman by the name of Lexie Grey. Younger sister to that dirty mistress Meredith Grey who so happened to hit on Dr. Derek Shepherd one night at that Emerald Bar. And oh yeah, she was an intern with a photogenic memory, and the nicknames Lexipedia and Little Grey.
Every day that went on, she became more and more her own person. Okay, well that’s incorrect. She had always been her own person, but as their nights together became more frequent and their days in each other’s company lengthened, he realized more and more who she was. Every day that went on, he learned something new, and it was always something about her. Old memories and facts grew more and more vague as they were replaced with memories and facts about--with her.
Some days he just wanted to tell the person nearest him something about this young, but not naïve woman. But he knew he would ramble on, repeating himself over and over, without an apparent point, the lines of sentences blurring together like some old chant that had been sung a million times over by a dozen hundred or so before him, and he would be that old fool caught up in a woman and…
He laughed. He probably was.
(He always stopped himself from rambling, because it was simple but true--Lexie was great, and you’d get a good lecture or two if you for one second doubted it.)
*
One time, he asked Derek if he, Mark, had gone insane. Derek laughed and said, “yes” and after a pause, added, “congratulations--you’ve earned yourself a heart”.
Derek also went on to add that it was just that typical period any person in love went through. Mark had scoffed. He never told Derek that he loved Lexie, although Mark had come to the conclusion a couple of days back; he had only told Derek that lately, all he wanted was to talk about Lexie when he wasn’t with her.
Derek ignored the scoff and said, “we’re all susceptible to it, Mark, no need to bury your head in shame.”
They both let the silence spread between them, and just relished the night air and the feel of the beers washing down their throats.
(Mark had never understood Derek better than then, and things were right and steady in his life all-around for the first time.)
*
Words were just a way to stall things. They always had been. For things to get done, you had to cut to the chase, not mince words, just spit it out, and cut the bullshit.
With her, as he spoke he felt like he just wasn’t saying enough. He told her things plain and simple, but he felt stupid for not being able to say them better. Like maybe, because he had always heard Derek sound at least a bit more eloquent with women and was able to keep them around longer, he was doing it all wrong.
When she smiled after his small blurts of honesty, the self-berating would end and he was just himself again.
Often she said “I know” to whatever it was he said, like she knew him well enough and was reminding him “I know what you feel and what you want, and I don’t require you to say a thing because I know”. That spark of connection that took eight seconds to communicate between the two of them took them farther than the most well-honed string of words could achieve.
(Maybe there was an end somewhere, but for however long he would gladly enjoy being the line that went off the marker and caused the fluctuation.)