Title: Moment of Surrender 5/?
Rating: R (for language)
Pairing: Callie/Mark, Callie/Derek
Disclaimer: All characters, events, settings and situations mentioned in this work are sole property of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, in constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be defamatory or factual in anyway.
Summary: “What the hell is the matter with you? Do you need therapy?”
If love believes in me
Mark was a little happy. He had Callie all to himself. Derek had stopped giving him shit about Callie.
Well--he was trying to be happy about the whole situation. He had Callie all to himself, but she was quiet and falling asleep on him while they watched Twilight Zone reruns. Not to mention, she had stopped teasing him about every single one of his slutty flaws. It’s not like they were having sex either. But then again, as Mark soon learned, it was never really about the sex. She just didn’t seem like Callie.
And then there was Derek. Who not only, had stopped giving him shit about Callie, but he wasn’t saying much of anything anymore.
He was pretty sure he was saving all of them a lot of headaches, though. So, shaking his head and his doubts away, he bit into the apple in his hand and strolled into the gallery, where Derek was sitting, watching over as a random procedure was being down.
“What’s up, ese?” he asked jokingly, showing off his new favorite Spanish phrase as he took a seat beside a gloomy looking Derek. “Oh my god, what is wrong with you?”
Derek grumbled incoherently, then leaned forward to separate himself a little from Mark.
“Your hair looks like crap.” Mark teased, chewing animatingly, then continuing after not receiving anything other than a clearing of the throat from Derek, “And you need to shave. And probably shower. When was the last time you showered?”
“Mark, shut up, please.” He said quietly.
Mark stopped for a second, tossing his apple in the trash bin sitting in a nearby corner. He leaned forward to say in a low tone, “What the hell is the matter with you? Do you need therapy?”
“No, I think you need therapy, Mark.” Derek scowled, calming his tone as the few heads in the gallery looked in his direction. “I’m doing what you asked--no, what you stomped and cried for like a child. Can I at least have a minute to myself?” He snapped, turning his attention back to the surgery he was not paying attention to.
Mark bit back a seriously good argument, and stared at his friend of twenty years instead. He looked tired. Like he hadn’t been sleeping. His hair needed a trim and he wasn’t kidding when he said he needed a shave.
Mark sneered and replied, “Is this because of Callie?”
At that, Derek turned sharply and glared at Mark, “Do you really want her, Mark? I mean want her, in the long run. Because if you do, you have grounds. You’ve been friends with her--with and without benefits. She actually LIKES you and puts up with you. I can see why you would want that, but if you don’t--then you’re being selfish. Because we really hit it off. In a way that you may not understand, but we did. So make it right with her. Stop fooling around, because she is doing you a favor by putting up with all your crap. She’s humoring you for your benefit and it’s selfish of you to allow it to go on.” He stood up then, ready to head toward the door.
“Oh, you’re telling me YOU do want her. In the long run.” Mark tossed after him.
Derek turned with a bitter chuckle, “I could.”
Mark watched him leave, then turned to glare past the blood and the equipment bellow him, until his mind had completely strayed.
Derek ran a finger through his, now admit tingly, oily hair, then scratched his unshaven face as he made his way up a hallway, walking aimlessly until he found himself walking up the empty stairwell. He sighed heavily and groaned, loudly because he knew he was alone, as his muscles, lacking rest as of late, protested the forceful contraction as he made his way un the stairs, slowly, his shoulders slumped over.
He didn’t know of he even had a justifiable reason for the sudden gloom over his personal surroundings. Callie wasn’t an ex girlfriend. They never even really got there. In a way, he thinks it’s because he doesn’t have enough of her to wallow over. She never left a CD or a favorite movie at his place. She never had a drawer there for sleepovers. He didn’t have an old University tee shirt to claim back from her because she loved sleeping in it.
Hi sighed again, dramatically this time, making his voice echo in the empty space. He almost fell back as he bumped into a softer, speeding body, “Whoa--” he looked up and almost lost his footing again, for rather distinct reasons than before, “--Hi.” He said in a breath, a smile quickly contaminating his entire face.
She smiled for a split second, having not exchanged words or even looks in two weeks had made Callie a little stir crazy. She slapped herself out of it constantly, however, because she had no grounds for that. If she did the math, they’d technically known each other for about a week and a half in total, summing up all the time they had actually spent together, of course. She stood back when she remembered she had been avoiding exactly this. Her smile at seeing him smile.
She cleared her throat and stood back against the railing, “Hey.” There was a long pause as his eyes searched hers, and just as he seemed about to say something--something she might regret replying to, she added, “Are you okay? I heard you--grunting?” She asked, baffled.
“Oh--” He snapped out of the haze her presence seemed to put him under and stepped back as well, his arms crossed over his chest, “--yeah, I was--grunting.” He laughed, at himself mostly, then quickly felt self conscious about his appearance.
“Oh.” She nodded, mirroring his actions, her arms tightly crossed over her chest, “Any reason in particular? Are you hurt, I mean? Do you need--”
“Your assistance?” He asked, hopeful, a crinkle in his eyes.
She released a slight huff as she stared down at the floor, “Derek--”
“I was kidding.” He cut in, frowning slightly.
She nodded, then raised her chin, looking sideways, then the other way before taking a deep breath, “How are you?”
“Oh, you know--” He replied, “--Same as I was last week. “You?”
She smiled faintly, “Same as I was last week.”
“Are we--can we be friends?”
“ We are friends.” She said softly, almost sadly as she looked up at him now. “Aren’t we?”
“Yes.” He said quickly, “I was just checking.”
“Oh. Okay.” She smiled again, “So you are okay, then.”
“Well, Mark is. That’s all that matters, right?” He didn’t’ mean for it to sting as much as it seemed to when she frowned, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”
“I have to go.”
“No you don’t.” he said, stopping her a couple of steps down, her hand in his as she turned to look up at him, “Stay a minute.”
“Come up to the roof with me. We’ll have a nice, uncomfortable silent where I look at you and you ignore me.”
“Stop making this easy and fun. This isn’t easy and fun.” Callie said frankly.
“I know.” He replied seriously.
“I have to go.” She replied after a moment, and he, reluctantly let her hand fall from his as she walked down the stairs.
“Yo!” Cristina announced, rather loudly as she kicked the door to the apartment open and was greeted by a rather unenthusiastic Callie, who sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television and lamely waved her hello. “Damn--” Cristina added as she closed the door, “--who died?”
Callie sighed in reply and reached into the bowl beside her for a handful of popcorn.
Cristina stood back and stared in horror at her roommate. She dropped her keys in the bowl centered on the table, “Oh my god.” She groaned, “It’s happening.”
“What are you talking about?” Callie asked offhandedly as she chewed on the buttery popcorn.
“I’m talking about the frumpy, frowning mess you are on that couch right now.” Cristina replied as she made her way into the living room and flopped down beside Callie, their shoulders grazing, “What’s wrong with you?” She asked against her better judgment, then winced as she tried to make out what she was watching.
“Nothing.” Callie replied shortly, holding the bowl on her lap, “Eat popcorn with me.”
“What’s wrong with you?” She asked again, taking a handful of the salty snack and popping some of it into her mouth.
“Nothing.” Callie replied again, her voice as steady as before.
“You’re not getting laid. You’ve got McSteamy guarding you like you’re a china doll sitting one the ledge of the shelf, you’re not having sex with him…and you want Shepherd. There, I’ve said it.”
“You’re delusional.” Callie answered calmly, reaching for a candy bar beside her and tossing it on Cristina’s lap, “Eat candy.”
Unwrapping the candy bar, Cristina focused again on the television, “You want him. You don’t have to be embarrassed. He hasn’t completely lost his charm. He’s McDreamy. And you want to bone each other. And he wants babies, so you REALLY want to bone him. So you’re all--quiet and nesting for some reason--”
“The apartment is spotless. You’re nesting. What the hell are we watching?” She asked, perplexed.
“Eraserhead. And stop talking about him.”
“If you ask me--”
“I’m not asking you.”
“--you need to learn McSteamy is a grown ass man, and he should be able to take it if his best friends want to date. He’s not twelve. You’re not his girlfriend, and this isn’t 1912, you can actually choose who you sleep with.”
“I wasn’t asking you.”
“I know.” Cristina nodded as she took a large bite of the candy bar.
Callie swallowed a mouthful of popcorn and sighed heavily, “Thanks for telling me. That was annoying and uncalled for, but effective.”
“No problem. Thanks for cleaning my room. THAT was annoying and uncalled for, but effective.”
Callie smiled to herself and chuckled, “You’re welcome.”
That night, Callie was woken up by a warm body slipping behind her under the covers, “Mark?” She mumbled in the dark.
“Yeah, it’s me.” He replied as he nestled himself behind her, wrapping one arm tightly around her waist and pulling her close, breathing her in, “I need to tell you something.”
“What’s wrong?” Callie asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just need to tell you something.” He mumbled into her hair.
“Okay.” She replied, settling back against her pillow, shivering as he breathed against her neck.
“You’re my best friend, Callie.” She heard him say. For a second, she thought about teasing him, calling him a softly, for something told her, it wasn’t the time, so she simply answered, “I know.”
“I’m sorry I’m selfish and childish.”
“I don’t’ want you to hold yourself back for me.” he kissed her shoulder briefly, “You’re beautiful, and funny, and amazing, and someone should--you need to be worshipped.” He paused briefly, then added, “Derek will worship you.”
She swallowed the lump that was growing bigger in her throat and she snuggled closer against him.
She cleared her throat, and said softly, “Okay.”
“I love you.” he said faintly.
She smiled, “I love you, too.” She waited a couple of minutes before turning in his arms, turning her head on the pillow to meet his eyes in the dark as she smiled, “Are you drunk?”
He smiled as she chuckled, “No, but I might be high. I don’t know where that came from. And if you tell that son of a bitch I said something even remotely nice about him, I will kill both of you.”
She laughed, louder this time as she touched his cheek and leaned in to kiss his lips lightly, “Thank you for coming over tonight.”
“No problem.” He paused, “Can we still have sex?”
He sighed regretfully, “I was afraid of that. I take it back.”
She smacked his chest and they shared laugh before she settled against his side while he wrapped an arm loosely around her and sighed as he looked up at the ceiling. “Can you make me breakfast tomorrow?”
“Sure.” She mumbled sleepily.
“What are you going to make me?”
“Whatever special the Deli down the street has Thursday mornings.”
He groaned as he closed his eyes, “Derek cooks. Trading sex for breakfast. That’s what I’m doing.”
She laughed lightly against him as she drifted off.
Thursday laid on his bed Thursday morning, bright eyed and sleep deprived. Even on his day off, he couldn’t get himself to sleep in. He heard a car drive up, but couldn’t get himself to get up. He did, however, manage to frown as Mark made himself furiously into the trailer, “Morning.” Derek said dryly, not bothering to sit up as Mark walked through in an angry huff to stand at the foot of his bed.
Mark fumed as he glared down at his friend and lifted his index finger accusingly at him, “If I hear ONE complain about you from her that seriously fractures her emotional state because you decide you want to be an asshole in any way, shape or form, I will personally sedate you, slice your penis off and replace it with a hose. You understand, Shepherd?!” He shouted.
Derek, kind of confused and kind of afraid, nodded the best he could from his bed, “Yeah.”
“Good.” He nodded, taking in his surroundings, noting the dirty clothes lying around everywhere before he took a breath, “Get up and make me breakfast.”
“Okay.” Derek replied, the events of the last couple of minutes finally settled and he smiled as he headed in Mark’s direction. The other man stared back befuddled as Derek advanced toward him.
“What?” Mark sneered, then grunted as Derek enveloped him in the tightest hug two men had ever shared. He patted his back a couple of times before adding, “How about you shower before you make me breakfast? And shave that shit off your face. She hates that.”
“You’ve got it.” Derek replied as he pulled away, “You’ve GOT it!”
He looked for her all day Friday. He was anxious to see her and talk to her. But, the life of a surgeon kept on getting in the way.
He went about his morning with a smile on his face and a skip in his step.
Finally at two I the afternoon, in the middle of surgery, he spotted that face he’d been looking for all day. She sat in the back row in the gallery, smiling down at him, her hair framing her face. He winked and chuckled. His eyes strayed in her direction throughout. When it was done, however, his heart skipped a beat as he looked up and didn’t see her among the crowd.
He sighed, disappointed as he headed out.
Two minutes later, as he scrubbed out, he heard the door burst open and he turned just in time to feel a pair of sweet, full lips on his own. His arms circled her waist as her own circled his neck.
Her sighs tasted of peppermint and her tongue of--fruit punch. Her hair felt like silk through his fingers, and her body like heaven against his own. She sighed against his lips and he smiled as she pulled away, breathless as she moved toward the door.
“I have to go--” She panted, “--I just wanted to let you know that you’re taking me out on a date tonight. I will be ready at eight-thirty. You will be picking me up. You will be early.” She bared teeth with her smile as she held the door open behind her, “And you will try to get in my pants.”
He chuckled as she headed out the door and he leaned back for a second to catch his breath. Mark was going to get a really big Christmas present this year.