Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟲𝟭 illict affairs

𝙇𝙓𝙄.
ILLICIT AFFAIRS

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    "OH, YOU HAVE TO BE JOKING!"

The exclamation came from the bathroom one morning as he took his sweet time getting out of bed. It was tempting, this morning in particular, to stay there forever. But a surgical pager was blaring, the sheets had been thrown back and the curtains were parted to invite in the wanton rays of light that appeared in the sky. 

He ran a hand across his face, groaning to the tune of the electronic device by his head. It was their morning fanfare, they had no need for a alarm clock-- He stayed there, even as the woman beside him shot out of the bed as fast as a bullet leaving it's chamber. He stayed there until the bathroom door flew open and the hurricane started whirling across the bedroom.

"I can't believe you—"

He opened an eye, lifting his head very slightly to watch the tsunami as it lapped at the bedsheets and tore across the hardwood floor. 

She was in full force this morning, scooping her hair into a ponytail as she made him go dizzy from just watching her. One arm in a shirt, bra not even clipped into place and feet dragging over the floor. Ever so often, she shot him a look from her rampage, causing his eyebrow to lift.

"What?" 

His voice was low and husky, a stark contrast from the powerhouse in front of him. They'd collectively only been awake for five minutes and she was already a bright burning ball of energy, burning brightly as she stood at the end of the bed, hands on her hips. He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. 

"What? Is it my pager—"

"No..." She said. The newly thrown together ponytail swung wildly as she shook her head. "It's mine. I'm talking about this."

The vague gesture towards her neck didn't answer any questions. 

Still half-asleep but completely used to this sudden wakeup call, he just frowned tiredly, rolling out his shoulders against the mattress.

"About what?" He muttered, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. 

Her bed was too comfortable. He liked it here. The comforter was just soft enough. The pillow was just firm enough. If he could only just close his eyes and doze for an extra twenty minutes...

She appeared in front of him again, this time closer and pulling back the collar of her adjusted shirt. He had to blink suddenly to focus on her, squinting up at the woman who looked only half on this planet. 

She yanked back her shirt with such urgency that he almost thought that it was going to rip at the seams.

"This."

He could see it now. 

It almost made him smirk, but he knew better— between the stern look on her face and the sizeable hickey on her neck, he knew that a smirk or a chuckle would probably result in certain death. She held back her collar and just exhaled through her nose, scrunching up her face as if she was dealing with a child. 

So, with the nonchalance of someone who had definitely known exactly what they were doing the night before, he just looked up at the her, studied the bruise and shrugged. A light smile flickered at his lips, but he bit it back with a long sigh.