Charlie Miller and Derek Shepherd are both neurosurgeons with massive egos, they constantly clash and argue in and out of the OR. The tension between them is very strong and disruptive for themselves and everyone around them. What happens when they...
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For the next couple of days, we avoided each other's eyes and pretended that we had never touched each other. We went about our usual routines, but the tension between us was palpable.
During that time, I couldn't help but think about the moments that we had shared. The way his hand had felt on my skin, the way our bodies had melded together so perfectly... I realized that I had never felt anything quite like it before.
Derek seemed to be struggling with the same thoughts. His face would sometimes contort with what I believed to be anger, but I couldn't be sure.
It had been a few days since our encounter in the breakroom, and I found myself sitting in the hospital cafeteria with Dr. Webber. He had asked me to join him for lunch, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to chat with one of my mentors.
As we ate our sandwiches, he suddenly turned to me and said, "You know, Charlie, I've noticed something about you and Derek."
I looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Well," he continued, "you two haven't argued once in the past couple of days. Usually you're at each other's throats every other minute."
I hadn't even realized it until he pointed it out. It was true; since that day in the breakroom, Derek and I had been civil towards each other. In fact, we had barely spoken to each other at all.
Dr. Webber raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for me to say something.
"I...I suppose things have just been different lately," I finally replied.
"Maybe you two have finally grown up a bit and actually listened to what i had to say. I think that making you guys work together has really helped."
I just nodd along with what he is saying because the truth is just too embarrassing.
As the weeks went by, Derek and I continued to keep our distance from each other. We didn't speak about what had happened in the breakroom, and we went out of our way to avoid each other when possible.
One day, while I was on my lunch break, I received a text message from Derek. It was brief and to the point.
"Meet me in the breakroom tonight at 7 pm. We need to talk."
I hesitated for a moment, my heart beating wildly in my chest. The thought of facing Derek again made my stomach churn. But I knew that I couldn't keep running from him forever.
As I made my way to the breakroom that night, I tried to prepare myself for what was to come. Derek was sitting at a table when I arrived, his face expressionless.
"Sit down," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
