Author: Xyliette PM
A series of short little scenes that piece together to outline the forming of a relationship and the major moments when it takes the next step. Mark/Sydney.Rated: Fiction M - English - Sydney H. & Mark S. - Words: 2,403 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Published: 12-09-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4705457
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: This is the best never-gonna-happen ship since Burke/Addison. For Kendel, the creator of all wonderful Marksy things.
- The Ohio Players
"Dr. Sloan....Sloan...is that English? Sounds kind of English..."
Mark slowly looks around the stuck elevator. Yes, just him and this curly headed woman, who in her rambling is kind of oddly cute. "I don't know."
"I bet it is," Sydney confirms and clicks the end of her pen vigorously.
Mark waits the obligatory five seconds, being patient and polite. "Ok, can you stop that?"
"Sorry." Sydney tucks the pen back into her lab coat pocket. "I'm sort of a little claustrophobic...it's not a big deal...I'm not going to freak out or anything, I just need to keep occupied."
Mark smirks as thoughts of ways to keep her very busy enter his mind and then dismisses them entirely. Elevators aren't his scene and his reputation is already on the line. "Well then, by all means." He produces two pens from his own coat and offers them over.
"It's probably a sign," Sydney tells him as she looks around the mostly empty ferry.
"Huh?" Mark questions, trying to discern through the hazy fog if the boat is going to actually start moving soon.
"That we keep getting stuck places together. Fate is telling us something Dr. Sloan...Mark if I can." Her voice trails up, asking permission.
Mark grumbles something inaudible, clearly frustrated.
"I have coffee," Sydney offers, reaching into her bowling bag sized purse. "And crackers, and licorice. Gotta be prepared you know."
"Sure," Mark responds and thrusts his freezing hands into his leather jacket to keep them warm. He loves ferries. He doesn't love when they decide to break and everyone is stuck in the middle of the bay bitching about all the better things they have to be doing than this.
"I forgot cups though, I just have my thermos-"
"It's fine. I don't need coffee. Already had mine."
"You seem upset, are you upset?"
"Just a little behind schedule," Mark answers finally turning to face her. Sydney's hat is lopsided and her wild tresses are spilling out of it without care, her cheeks are a rosy red, eyes sparkling in the morning dawn. She's rather adorable. Mark thinks fate could've done him worse, that's for certain.
Sydney nods in understanding and wraps her pink mittens around the cool metal handrail. She pauses pensively looking out at the glimmering lights on the water that wiggle and wave with every movement. "You think Dr. Shepherd will mind?"
Mark looks behind himself, searching for his friend, "What?"
"That fate keeps putting us together."
"Pass this along," Sydney instructs Alex, giving him a stern glare when he rolls his eyes.
"Give it to Sloan," Alex grunts and tosses the paper into Meredith's lap.
"Here," Meredith whispers, during a very heated morbidity and mortality session.
"What?" Mark takes the note, not recognizing the girlish scrawl across the top.
Do you want to have dinner and drinks sometime? I'm pretty sure you've meant to ask but I'm bored and saving you the trouble of getting up the nerve.
Mark sneaks a glance down his row, not even aware that Sydney was in the vicinity, and reaches for a pen. "Give it back," he tells Meredith, who passes the note back along the trail of residents all dying to unfold the paper and see what is going on.
Sydney smiles widely when the lined paper plops down into her lap again.
See you at 7
Sydney grabs her purple marker and prepares to respond, perhaps with a game of hangman or something else to occupy them both when Alex shakes his head and softly tells her to play it cool.
Grinning, Sydney scribbles out a few more lines and tosses it over Alex to Izzie, who she knows will keep the conversation moving to the correct participant.
Better make it 8.
Sydney twists the key in the sticky lock hoping she doesn't have to play with it for five minutes before both she and Mark can make it inside. "Ok," she pauses, "here's the thing-"
"You hiding something in there?"
"I don't mind a mess. I'm not exactly the cleanest guy-"
"It's not that," Sydney shakes her head. Her home is rather impeccable for how often she is there. She pushes the door back an inch and slips her hand inside to hit the hallway light.
"Ok, whatever it is-"
"Oh," Mark stumbles back, preparing himself for the onslaught of hair and saliva and germs that are going to make his throat start to seal off. So much for getting lucky tonight.
"I'll admit that eleven is kind of excessive but they need homes and I have room so I said to myself, 'Sydney Elisabeth Heron there is no good reason why you can't help out in the real world as well as the hospital' and now here we are."
"Eleven?" Mark gulps, "Eleven what?"
Sydney swings the door wide and ushers him in onto the light wood flooring. She points toward the living room, past the white baby gate that separates the areas. "Kittens, or cats really but some of them are kittens. And they all have names. I started with the letter A for the first one in the bunch and then I just progressed down the alphabet the more I got. And then when some of them get adopted by their forever homes then I just fix everyone's name to correct the structural change. It helps me not get too attached and if you get confused don't worry, I have a list in the laundry room. Oh! And the ones with the blue bells on their collars are kind of aggressive. So if you feel something crawling up your legs, don't be concerned."
Mark's eyes rapidly scan the floor of playing, napping and eating cats for the shiny indicators. He does not do pets.
"But they are all really sweet babies, when you get to know them." She claps her hands together and reaches out for Mark's arm to pull him forward. "Time for introductions."
Mark clears his throat as he daringly steps over the barrier. His breathing, in anticipation is already rapid and weak. Suddenly, looking back toward the door he blurts out the only thought on his mind, "Eleven cats."
Sydney tilts her head, watching him and bending over to grab Bubblegum as he tries to chase Hefty into the kitchen. She tugs on the gray kitten's ears lovingly and adjusts his sea colored bell. She shrugs as he tiptoes around the disaster zone of little mice and catnip. "I don't like to sleep alone."
Sydney chews on the end of her pen not caring that the people around the nurse's station clearly think it's annoying and disgusting. Very seriously she deposits the chart she was working on and takes off after Miranda Bailey who is about ten paces down the hall. "Dr. Bailey! Oh, yoohoo! Dr. Bailey!"
The older woman flings around, already disappointed by who was beckoning. "What!" she snaps.
Sydney clears her thoughts of last night's date and ending up in Mark's hotel, after checking on the cats. "I don't want this to change our relationship."
"As co-workers," Sydney clarifies as Miranda's eyes cloud in confusion.
"I assure you I do not know what you are talking about Dr. Heron and if this is about you not getting Chief Resident-"
"No, no. No hard feelings. You keep on being you," she slugs the other woman on the shoulder playfully. "I like to focus on the quality of care, not quantity. You know the saying-"
Miranda looked down at her blaring pager, being reminded once again why she doesn't like to talk with this woman. "I need to go."
"Ok, we'll talk later."
"There's nothing to discuss!" Bailey yells rushing down the hall.
Sydney turns on her croc adorned heel and marches off to her third surgery of the day with a whistle on her lips and a bounce in her step.
"Just ask." Meredith urges and elbows Cristina in the ribs as they carry their trays over to where Derek and Mark are sharing lunch.
"I fully intend on winning this," Cristina replies as they inch closer.
"There is no way," Meredith objects and sets her tray down across from Derek's.
"Watch and learn," Cristina smirks and ignores McDreamy's questioning look. "Dr. Sloan."
"I was wondering if I could get in on your two o'clock today with Mr. Greis. I've never seen-"
"You are interested in plastics?" Mark quirks a brow, eyes traveling over her shoulder to where Sydney is contemplating dessert choices.
"I'm very interested...in your line of work," Cristina charms and leans in. "I'd appreciate anything you could demonstrate for me."
"Uh-huh," Mark mumbles, not really paying attention. "Yeah, ok, just don't screw it up Yang...and I take my coffee approximately twenty minutes before surgery."
Cristina smiles and stretches her arms out behind her head. "Told you."
Meredith reaches into her lab coat and pulls out the wad of cash they have been collecting all day.
"Told her what?" Derek asks, looking at the table like they've all gone insane.
"Mark is seeing Sydney Heron." Meredith grins.
"What!" Derek shouts and scoots his chair back against the floor to get a better look at his friend. "You are...I...but we-"
"No, no. I'm not...I'm trying to be a good teacher. This is a teaching hospital and Richard's been all over my ass. That's...ridiculous."
"Right, you know Meredith, maybe we should ask Sydney herself. Clear this up once and for all." Cristina stands and waves the woman over as Mark's cheeks glow bright red.
"I have to go," Mark announces and grabs at his cellphone like a call is coming in.
"See," Cristina tells them.
"Well hello Yang, Grey, Dr. Shepherd. I'd be glad to fill your table-"
Cristina throws her legs into the other chair, "Saving it for O'Malley."
Sydney struggles to get more comfortable in Mark's arms as they lay together on the on-call room bed. "You've done this a lot," she chokes out.
"Something like that," he says softly and hugs her closer, choosing to ignore the running river of tears that are soaking his scrub top.
"He was so...he was a good person Mark," she sobs into his shoulder.
"They usually are," he replies and begins to rub circles over her back when she tangles her legs in his to get impossibly closer. It's interesting, when Sydney has a bad day or loses an important patient (not that it happens with any real frequency he's noticed) she just wants to be held. She doesn't want to be screwed senseless or drink until she's liquid like his past flings have enjoyed, she just wants to be comforted and get through the ugliness so she can move on and be her quirky, fun self again.
"Don't," he demands. It's better not to wish for anything.
"I messed up..." she insists, fingers clawing at his shirt, trying to find a hand to hold. "I'm a screw up."
"You're...perfect." Mark grimaces as soon as it leaves his mouth but to her credit she doesn't flip over and call him on it.
Sydney buries her head further into him, tears drying instantly and her shaking mouth turning into a wide teeth-showing grin.
Mark Sloan is in love.
She's been there herself...about ten minutes ago when he drug her out of the scrub room.
Mark steps further into the pale green living room, definitely aware of something missing. He looks to the left, then to the right. "Syd! Where are the cats?"
Sydney appears in the doorway, toothbrush hanging from her mouth. "Got rid of them."
"You got rid of them?" Mark sputters, shedding his coat into the armchair next to him.
"No! No. Not like that. I...they all found homes, well except Bubblegum but Izzie McGee is watching him for now...and I just...didn't volunteer to take anymore."
"Ok," Mark agrees wearily. Something fishy is happening here, even for Sydney, the woman who always keeps him on his toes.
"We can't have cats living with us when you are allergic silly." She pecks his cheek, leaving a little spot of minty foam on his stubble.
"Living with us?" Mark searches with his eyes again. The only thing of his that is here is his body, he knows that much.
"Well, your lease is up," she calls out.
"It is?" Mark tries to calculate how long it's been but before he can throw an exact date on it she's returned.
Sydney tugs on the drawstring of her soft and incredibly tiny shorts with palm trees all over them, adjusting them for bed, where they will promptly be removed again. She tightens the knot so he'll have to struggle for a second. She likes when he is more impatient than her.
"I talked to your landlord."
"You talked to my landlord," Mark parrots in near disbelief.
"Yeah, when I was canceling your lease."
"Her face is kind of squished," Sydney remarks while adjusting the yellow knitted booties on her daughter's feet.
"Addison said that's normal," Mark tells her, having been oddly concerned himself. He smiles watching them waver in and out of sleep.
"I guess we should invite her to the wedding, now that she's been up close and personal with...me and all," Sydney laments, eyes closed, head pressed back against the hospital pillow.
Mark chuckles realizing that they will now have to follow through with the marriage thing (that they've never discussed) sooner or later. "Yeah, probably."
Sydney runs a few fingers over their new baby's already unruly hair. "Thanks for taking me to dinner that night Mark."
"Thanks for asking me...for me."