Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Summary: Derek is not happy to see Mark
Note: Set after "Yesterday." I actually wrote this as comment porn for littlehands. The only Mark/Derek, in fact the only GA fic, I've read is by holycitygirl, so you totally inspired me to write this! So I cleaned it up and am reposting as fic to cheer you up, Lee! Not much but here it is.
Derek's hand still stings. He fractured a bone punching that jerk, Meredith tells him, mournfully looking over his X-rays before she's called to scrub in on a surgery. Not that he regrets it for an instant. He never realized how badly he's wanted to hit Mark this whole time until his fist connected with his face. Mark's look of stunned hurt was well worth the small pain of a fractured finger. Except now Derek won't be able to operate for God knows how long. He doesn't need a cast, just some Vicodin and some time off, probably. Just as well, it's not like he wants to be here if Mark's here.
He's sitting alone in a private room, brooding about how Mark could just suddenly turn up with no warning, when the door opens and the devil walks in.
"I heard you broke it."
Mark's face is only bruised, but Derek wishes he'd at least dislocated the bastard's jaw. "Yeah. Come to gloat?" He should be more annoyed but by now the Vicodin has wrapped him in a nice, warm glow. Even Mark can't bother him right now.
Mark takes a step closer. "I'm sorry, man. I should have told you I was coming."
"Stop flirting with my girlfriend."
"Didn't know she was." Mark crooks an eyebrow and smiles, like a smile excuses everything.
"Like that's ever stopped you." A small seed of annoyance creeps in, under the blanket indifference of the drug.
"Derek. I didn't come out here for her."
"Right." Derek turns and faces the wall. That would be Mark's cue to leave. Except he comes even closer, until he's right at Derek's bedside.
"Derek." Mark's voice is low and breathy and Derek knows what comes next. He turns, without wanting to, and Mark is looking at him with that "I've been a bad little boy," pout that Derek never could resist. He points towards the door with his injured hand but instead Mark leans forward, taking Derek's head in his heads. His kiss is slow and his lips are warm and Derek swears he can feel his heart slow down and maybe even, for a split second, stop. Mark climbs into the bed with him and Derek just lies there, staring into those painfully sincere eyes that speak of forgiveness and second chances.
"Let me at least make it up to you."
Derek opens his mouth but all that comes out is a groan as Mark slips his hand into his scrubs. Mark's hands take hold of him and his head falls back on the pillow. He's closing his eyes and the room is spinning and Mark is saying he's sorry and then he's coming much too fast. Mark's lips graze his forehead and when he pulls back, he's grinning like an idiot. "Gotta go," he says, like this makes everything okay.
Derek lies back, spent and warm and feeling altogether too good. Definitely the Vicodin's fault.