One of the worst ideas I've ever had.

Ever.

I stand looking out the glass planes of my back door and watch him drinking the lemonade I'd just put out for him.

He was wearing jeans – low slung – and tennis shoes, and that's it. The sun, normally so reticent to make an appearance in Seattle, had been shining every day this week. Every day that Karev had been at my house, prepping the pieces and the layout of what would be my deck. The deck I hadn't even really wanted. The deck I'd only mentioned because I wanted to fix the pain I'd seen in Alex's eyes when he saw Yang being all happy and crap with Jackson.

My plan had been simple. Give Alex something to do to keep him busy. To help take his mind off of his... crush.

Simple plan.

Except for the fact that now, every day for a week, I'd been confronted by a sweaty, half naked, embarrassingly sexy, Alex Karev.

In my yard. Doing hot, muscley, manly things.

I force myself to turn away from the door only to find Izzie standing behind me.

She has one brow arched and she's leaning against the counter, smirking at me.

"What?" I ask defensively.

"Oh...nothing."

"Why are you staring at me?"

She shook her head, the smirk remaining firmly in place, "It's nothing."

"What? I can't look?" I ask exasperatedly.

"Oh sure, you can look," she pushed away from the counter and headed to the door I was standing by. She glanced out of the window and took in Alex's sweaty figure. "No harm in looking." She turned around to face me, "it's the drooling that's an issue." And with a light chuckle, she left me alone.

With my drool.

((((((((()))))))))))

"So how many dates have you had?"

"With Ms. Torres?" Derek put his bottled water down and offering a proud smile, responded, "Three. And you?"

"Four." Sloan took a self-pleased sip of his coffee.

"Have you seen her dance yet?" Derek asked.

Mark's smile faded, "No."

Derek shook his head... "She's... I mean... wow."

"We are talking 'dancing' right? Not 'DANCING'?" Mark air quoted the word.

Derek's face took on a sheepish cast, "I've been meaning to bring that up." He twiddled with his napkin. "Maybe we should cancel the bet."

"Cancel the bet? Are you giving up?"

"I'm not giving up... I just... It was a stupid ass bet. Torres... Callie is -"

"Don't use the word 'special'."

" – Special."

"Seriously... even put the hint of a sexy woman in front of you and you're whipped."

"I'm not whipped. I -"

"Oh so you've just finally come to the realization that you don't stand a chance of getting into Torres' bed before me?"

"That's not what I'm –."

"... no that's fine, you can admit defeat." Mark put down his cup. "Of course, just because you stop the bet, it doesn't mean I will."

"You can't have a one sided bet Sloan."

"So it becomes less of a bet, and more of a goal." He settled back on his side of the booth. "Me, and Callie... some hotel room with a plush down pillow top mattress..."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying..."

"Yeah, well, just stop saying."

They sat in silence for a few seconds.

"Fine, the bet is still on," Derek stood up ignoring Mark's triumphant grin as he followed suit.

As the two men headed to the front door of the restaurant Derek added, "but I want it on record that I that I think this is a bad idea."

As they exited the cafe, both men were so involved in their private thoughts and stratagems regarding one Dr. Callie Torres that they failed to notice Avery Jackson settled in the booth behind them.

(((((((((()))))))))))))

"I suppose I should feel complimented?" Callie's full lips were pressed tight.

"If you want help de-balling them... let me know. I saw a thing on PBS on the women of PaapaNugalla... I totally think I have the scrotum removal thing they do memorized." Yang added, "... and they don't use any anesthetic."

Callie smiled despite the turmoil in her head. "The worst thing about it? They were doing a good job of it. Of seducing me." She peered at Yang. "I mean, Jesus! I was probably only a date or two away from... I mean... with either of them."

"Maybe you should just screw them both regardless. I mean... sex is sex is sex. And," Yang waved her hand in the general direction of Callie's hips. "Your parts haven't seen much action recently."

"Don't remind me. That's probably half the reason that they're making any headway with me. I haven't had any other distractions to … uhh … keep me busy."

Yang picked up the bottle of tequila sitting on the coffee table and poured both of them another shot. "Out of curiosity..., which one of them was in the lead?"

"In the...?" Callie's eyes went wide and she blushed a light shade of pink.

"C'mon. McDreamy vs McSteamy. It's one of the epic questions of the century. Both of them vying for a hot blooded American woman, using all of their skills of seduction... Who's got the best game?" She leaned forward. "Ooooh, even better, now that you know about the bet, if you give in and do them both you could answer the oft asked questions of girth/length... curve."

Callie nearly choked on her tequila. Wiping the alcohol spittle off of her chin, she shook her head at Yang. "Unfortunately for the historians of the century, I'm not going to give in. Not now." She narrowed her eyes. "But I am tempted to make the boys think I'm about to give in."

"I quote the philosophers when I say" 'huh'?"

"They thought they could just... play with me? Use me and, and, well... use me?" Her chocolate browns sparkled, "Oh... it's on! It is sooooooooo on"