Code Blue

33

Fair warning- this is rated a little higher than PG-13. You've been warned!

I kick at a discarded beer can in the now empty bar parking lot.  Why are asshöles the worst? Whatever, I'm headed home. This night was a pathetic attempt at raising my spirits, and frankly, my serotonin- and it did not work.

I reach for my wallet, I have yet to install my credit card onto the Uber app on my phone and I guess now is the best time to do so. I reach deeper into the pockets of my jacket, the pocket seams are ripped and now the contents of my pocket just floats around in the lining, making it impossible to find my wallet.

That is, if I had my wallet.

"You're joking." I huff into the night air. I let out a soft curse and resist the urge to stomp my foot like a child. If I have any chance of getting home, I need to walk back  to the hospital and retrieve my wallet from my locker.

I start mumbling about jerks and forgotten wallets as I stamp my way across the street. The dark night and bright headlights make it a little easier to jaywalk and avoid being squashed by an oncoming car.  I sigh as I finally make it to the front entryway and flash my ID badge to the working receptionist. He smiles faintly, clearly not thrilled to be working the graveyard shift. I probably look messy and smell faintly of liquor but I doubt I will run into too many coworkers. I quickly jab at the elevator button, watching the numbers go lower and lower to the ground floor. I breathe a sigh of relief as I see the elevator is empty and hit the number for the locker room floor. The doors begin to close and I lean my head back, watching my reflection from the mirrored ceiling.

"Hold it!" A rushed voice interjects. 

I can see the doors about to close in my peripheral vision. Whoever it is can't see me, so would it be that terrible to let the doors close on them? I continue to look up at the mirror, there's a small line of smudged mascara under each of my eyes. I reach up to rub at my face and the elevator lets out a small jerk.

I look downwards, back to the door, bewildered. A muscular hand has been shoved in-between the doors. The elevator lets out a polite 'ding' as the doors begin to part again. I begin thinking of excuses immediately as to why I didn't open the door for them. I am going to go with, 'oh sorry, didn't see you!'. That seems fair.

The doors part and instantly make out the figure before me. I can't help but let out a morbid laugh at my own expense. 

"Sloan." I say simply.

"Revard." Mark says simply back. 

"You really were going to let the elevator leave without me? I thought we were closer than that." He nudges me with a clipboard that he is carrying.

I give in and meet his gaze, "I guess I'm full of surprises."

He gazes at me for a few seconds, as if assessing me for damage, "Get into a bar fight lately?"

I scoff, "I'll have you know that I resisted this time."

"Maybe you are full of surprises." Mark doesn't smile, but his eyes seem to grow lighter. 

A moment of silence lapses between us as the elevator lurches upwards.

"Late shift?" I inquire.

"Almost done." He responds.

"Any plans afterwards?" I ask innocently, making the usual elevator talk. When I realize how suggestive I sound, and just how much I smell of a bar- I mentally smack myself.

But Mark doesn't even seem to flinch.

"To be determined." He responds easily and gives me a teasing yet inviting glance.

"Huh." I can't help but sound dumbfounded at how easily we communicate.

The elevator stops and I move to leave. 

"Wait-" Mark says rather abruptly. 

I turn back, standing between the elevator itself and the hallway.

"Yes?"

"Are you sober?" He asks ambiguously. 

"Unfortunately." I place my hand on my hip, waiting for him to explain himself.

He stands there for a few seconds, drumming his pen against the clipboard. He seems deep in thought, which I now realize that I rarely see him doing so. Mark always seems to leap immediately into action, even when performing surgeries. I have no idea how he has gone so far into life so irrationally cocky, but he has. 

He suddenly drops the clipboard with a clang, the pen scatters and bounces off the floor.

"Sloan, what in the-" I start, but he swiftly pulls me back into the elevator as the doors close again. The doors stay shut, waiting for him to select a floor.

With the surprise overtaking me, I stumbled. So, here I am, pressed up against Mark with wild confusion. 

I don't move, neither of us do until Mark places his finger on my chin, lifting my face to meet his.

He's waiting for me.

He's going to kiss me, but he is letting me make the decision. This man is asking for my consent. Mark. Freaking. Sloan.

I have the option, the option to re-open the doors and pretend like this never happened. That he never tried to kiss me... again.

It feels like a year has passed inside this stupid elevator.

I look into Marks eyes, he looks more intense than usual.

"Yes." I say softly, I have no idea how he hears me, but that is all it took- that small yes. 

He pulls the 'stop elevator' button in one moment and meets my lips the next. The kiss is vehement, leaving us both scrambling for the other- as if we could get any closer.  I have my hand on the back of his head, my lips moving against his with a certain rhythm that only a long awaited moment can have. His left hand greedily grabs at my waist and we lose our balance, sending Mark to the wall. Neither of us lose our rhythm. It is as if we share the same thoughts now: touch, emotion, need.

Mark pulls back momentarily, eyeing the security camera. I smile, a small laugh escaping my mouth. I can feel his lips still imprinted on mine, like a soft vibration.

"It's been out since 6:42pm. Maintenance is supposed to come this morning." I say breathlessly, still very close to his face.

"Good." Mark replies, his voice a low register.

"Good." I echo.

Again, we collide. This time I find myself pressed against the elevator wall. A small gasp escapes my lips, making Mark smile as he begins to bring the kisses to my neck. I look again to the mirrored ceiling. In a way, I think I look beautiful pressed up against the wall. The flush on my face, which is usually embarrassing, makes me feel utterly alive. I can even ignore my already discarded pants covering the clipboard on the floor.

I let out a satisfied sigh as his hands move lower onto my body. I reach for him myself, praising Jesus that scrubs are so easy to remove. Not that any religious figure would approve of my current actions, but still.

There's a certain ecstasy that crosses my mind, feeling just how much he desires me too.  I smile deviously as I am pinned the wall yet again, this time my legs are raised- leaving myself hanging off of his body. I can feel him adjust, as we both do so very easily. The rush makes me let out a small laugh until his mouth greedily meets mine again. 

Mark lets off a soft moan as we meet. As we begin to move together, my mouth automatically opens as my body conforms to his. 

I let out a small curse, grabbing him to desperately bring him closer.

Neither of us are worried about the repercussions of un-safe sex, which is ironic as we are both doctors. No, this moment has rendered us completely primal, as if this action was all about survival. 

In our heads, as mine banged against the elevator wall, this was destined to happen.