Under the Night Sky

Chapter 6: See The Sun

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Meredith opened her eyes abruptly woken by an energetic knocking on the door. Not the practice door, that would have to be the doorbell. Someone was knocking on her bedroom door, someone meaning Izzie. No one else could be at her door at... she groggily gazed at her bedside clock, at 6 fucking a.m. in the morning.

The knocking went on.

"Gettin' up, gettin'," she muttered, disgruntled, pulling herself up to a sitting position.

With a yawn, she slid from the bed, allowing her feet to sink into the thick carpet. She loved that carpet. Ah, the simplest pleasures seemed the best at the crack of dawn.

"Coming," she called loudly. Come to think of it, why hadn't Izzie barged into her room already like she was used to? "Where's the fire, Izzz-" she got stuck at that monosyllable as having opened the door, she noticed her visitor was most certainly not Izzie. Unless Izzie dyed her hair black and went through a transgender surgery in the course of last night. Nope, unlikely.

Derek Shepherd. Who else would enjoy poisoning her life from the early morning... After an embarrassingly long moment before her befuddled brain could react in any way, she just stood there with a messy mop of sleepy hair and her skimpy pajamas consisting only of a short top and boy shorts. If he ever wondered about her body, and he undoubtedly did, his curiosity might have just been satisfied. She would throw herself under a truck if her nipple peeked out. She had a strong suspicion it did since the perv's eyes were glued at the level of her left breast as if it was a world wonder.

She hid herself behind the door with a shriek, all her sleepiness gone, "What are you doing here?" Of course, she knew a disaster was imminent when she passed him the practice keys.

For the first time this morning, his eyes settled on her face, for the lack of any other body part of her visible, and said, "I'm hungry."

Meredith's jaw went down disbelievingly, "Say what?"

"Actually, I'm starving."

"Okay, I don't give a flying fuck why you chose to share with me that fascinating piece of information but I'm not your-"

"It's your fault!" he reproached her. "Thanks to you everyone is cold shouldering me. No one's even going to sell my anything, including food. I've been living on old toasts, chewing gum and muffins for the last few days. This is paranoid! It's middle ages!"

"You overestimate me," she snorted. "No one wants to help you because they see you're an ass!"

"Oh, come one. You know as well as I do they will do anything if you tell them to."

"You're clearly deluded," she rolled her eyes becoming tired of hiding behind the door in her own home. "They might do something if I asked them. I can't think of a reason why I would ask them anything on your behalf."

"You owe me," he pointed out accusingly. "For your little stunt yesterday."

"You had it coming for trying to make my life miserable!"

"You're bound by the oath! Do no harm!"

"Seriously, you're pulling the doctor crap on me?" she moved to fold her arms in front of her but jumped right aside realizing she was giving him another eyeful.

"I am," he said firmly, leaning against the doorframe with his arm outstretched. "I want to have a real breakfast. And you'll help me or I won't move an inch," he warned her, putting one foot forward in order to prevent her from shutting the door. "I can also pull your-apartment-is-on-my-side-of-the-building crap. Take your pick, I don't give a flying fuck," he hectored mockingly mirroring her earlier arrogance.