Sutures and Secrets || Mark Sloan

41 | Rock, Paper, Scissors

05x16

The morning light crept in through the half-closed blinds, casting soft lines across Charlie's bare shoulders as she lay on the bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

Mark was under the covers, somewhere between her thighs, doing very dedicated things with his mouth - things that, on any other day, would have her breathless. But not today.

Because today, she was too angry.

"I just don't get it.", she muttered, her fingers absently running through his hair. "We spent the entire night at Joe's and Derek didn't even properly look at me. Not once. Didn't say a word, didn't acknowledge me. Nothing."

Mark made a muffled sound of protest, though whether it was from the topic or her talking at all during this particular moment was unclear.

"And it's not even like I did something wrong!", she continued, the irritation rising in her chest like steam. "He's acting like this whole thing is my fault. Like I somehow ruined our relationship by - what? Not letting him treat me like I'm twelve? I mean, come on."

She sighed, gripping the comforter around her waist. "And the fact that we have to keep this -", she gestured vaguely downward "- us - a secret, just to avoid another one of his classic control-freak meltdowns. Because heaven forbid anything in his orbit happen without his approval."

Mark stilled beneath the sheets.

Charlie stared at the ceiling again, voice quieter now. "I'm done hiding. We have to tell him. Today. I don't care what he says or thinks or does. The tension is already unbearable, it's not like it could get any worse."

There was a beat of silence before she added, almost to herself: "And he has no right to be mad. I'm an adult. I get to choose who I date. Who I sleep with. Who I -" She trailed off, biting her lip.

Mark finally peeked his head out from beneath the covers, blinking up at her with an expression somewhere between amused and wounded.

"I love your morning rambling.", he said dryly. "Really. It's one of your most charming traits. But it's slightly unsettling when you're ranting about Derek while I'm - you know, trying to please you."

Charlie couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips, short and warm. "God, I'm the worst."

"No.", he said with a smirk, brushing her thigh with his hand. "Just very - focused. On the wrong things."

Still smiling, she leaned down and kissed him - slow, deep, apologetic.

"You're right.", she murmured against his lips. "Let me fix that."

She pushed him gently onto his back, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. He looked up at her, eyes gleaming with lust and affection.

Charlie climbed on top of him, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "No more talking.", she said softly.

————

Later in the bathroom, Mark stood shirtless in sweatpants, mouth full of toothpaste, watching Charlie through the mirror's reflection.

He spat, rinsed, wiped his mouth with a towel. "So - how exactly are we doing this?"

Charlie glanced at him, puzzled. "Doing what?"

"Telling Derek.", Mark clarified. "Are we doing it together? Separately? Over text? Should we write him a nice letter? Maybe attach a little chocolate to soften the blow?"

Charlie blinked. "You want to tell him over text that we're together?"

Mark shrugged. "It's modern."

She gave him a look that said he was either a genius or an idiot - probably both. "No. It has to be in person. And only one of us has got to do it. That way, only one of us has to deal with the initial nuclear fallout. The other can, you know, leave the state."