17. Blueberry Scones

"How's plastics with Sloan?" Emily jested as Alex came by with his dry cleaning. The man glared as he went into the attendings lounge to drop it off and popped right back out moments later. The two walked through the halls as she penned in notes on the book she was reading about orthopedics.

"Whatever. Soon, he'll let me in on a surgery." The two went down the stairs and Emily went behind the desk to log into the computer. Alex grabbed his patient's chart, beginning to write something in as her fingers tapped the keys. Logging in with her ID and password, she began to log in her hours with ortho.

"Right, whatever you say, Dr. Karev." Sighing, she saw the loading circle and leaned back in the office chair. As she waited, she watched Alex write whatever he was writing subconsciously. Her feet spun the chair a quarter to face him when suddenly there was a plup and a bag was set next to the computer. Mark was there, leaning beside her mousepad and she frowned at the tissue paper that adorned the inside and was popping out.

"What's this?" she asked with a frown when he placed a bag on the table next to her. Alex gave her a look and she widened her eyes in response before turning to face the bag completely. "Sloan…"

"Remember the sexual reassignment surgery last week?" Nodding, she straightened up and took the bag. He pulled it away.

"Uh-uh. Wait." Remembering now, her mouth dropped open.

"Sloan, I was kidding."

"Yeah, but I made a promise to do better," he said quietly and she stared up into those blue eyes. They glowed unassumingly with a warmth that settled in her veins and burned her slowly from inside out. "Let me explain the gift first."

"Fine." Leaning back, she crossed one leg over the other as Izzie came up to Alex, having been assigned to shadow him today. The blonde stared at Emily and the brunette managed to tear her gaze away from Mark to see her two friends cock their heads before Izzie leaned over to Alex and whispered something.

"Listening, jailbait?"

"Hm, yeah." Turning to Mark, she scooted her chair closer to the bag. It wasn't labelled but it was a nice pastel purple.

"I thought of what gift to get you. For a long time. Spent a whole night on it, actually." He absently tugged at some of the tissue paper before letting his hand drop. "You aren't like other girls. Probably wouldn't have appreciated jewelry since you wouldn't get a chance to wear it often, and we're doctors, all the time, so I didn't get you something like that.

"You're not getting to the point."

"Let me explain," Mark said, sitting half on the counter. "I just want you to understand why I gave you this."

"Okay…"

"You probably like something practical and stylish. When we last went to get drinks, I saw that some of the buttons on your old coat were missing, and the edges were fraying so I decided to take that into my own hands. Here, take it."

The bag was big and when she peered inside, it was a beautiful cream colour that made her heart stop. Pulling it out carefully, she felt the luxurious make, the stitching, the way the fabric layered against itself in elegant wrinkles. She never thought wrinkles could look so graceful. Biting her lip, she peered at the buttons and the thin sash around the waist. It was the most gorgeous trench coat she had ever seen.

"Mark, I can't take this. It's beautiful. It's-" She paused, looking at the tag at the nape of the neck- "Yves Saint-Laurent? Are you kidding me? These are like eight grand a coat!" Staring at the trench coat in her hands, unable to comprehend how much this actually cost, she couldn't make her mouth form more words. "Mark, I can't take this. I really can't. How am I going to pay you back?"

"You don't have to. Calm down and let me see it on you." Ripping her gaze away from the coat, she stared at Mark like he'd grown a second head. When she still didn't move, he took the coat away from her and waited patiently for her brain to function. "Emily, you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just held eight grand in my hands, that's all," she said dazedly. He chuckled, spinning her around. Moving her arms, she guided her limbs through the sleeves. When she stepped back and pulled the lapels together to imitate how it'd look like buttoned up, she looked up at him.

"Wow," he breathed, absolutely stunned. She felt the heat rise to her face as he tied the thin sash around her waist. "You look… amazing."

"Thanks, but I can't take this," she murmured as he pulled a piece of hair out from underneath the jacket and tucking it behind her ear. "It's… I can't."

"Please," he whispered and her smile flitted across her face, disbelieving but bright, "take it." Take everything, he thought, I'd give it all to keep that smile. "I said I'd get you something. This is me keeping my word."

"Okay," she whispered and he smiled softly, leaving with one last glance over his shoulder. "Okay," she repeated, blinking and glancing at her two friends. They stared at her with bright smiles (a smirk in Alex's case) and she blinked repeatedly again. "He just gave me a YSL."

"Dude, what'd you do to Sloan that he'd drop eight grand on you?" Alex asked before leaving. Izzie seemed to pause, wanting to ask but Emily had no answers.

"I made a deal," she said lamely and the blonde shook her head, following after the male intern. "That's all this is. Us keeping our words. Just friends. Just friends." Still, as Emily stood there with the most expensive thing she owned hanging on her shoulders, she wondered what her heart truly thought.

.

"I'm calling it. It's mine," Alex said as they walked out of the room. George protested, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I have two brothers. I feel their pain," he argued as Izzie smiled and leaned on the counter.

"I would be great at watching this." Bailey flipped open the chart as Emily sidled in beside George.

"Did I tell you you look fantastic today, Dr. Bailey?"

"Zip it. All of you," their resident ordered with a sigh as Alex insisted that they were on the case. Rolling her eyes, she agreed. Cheering, they shared smiles as Bailey turned to Izzie. "Stevens, you are not to-"

"Look or touch or speak or breathe, I got it," she recited happily as Mark left the patient's room. He glanced up at them before continuing his way to the empty space on the counter beside them.

"So this is the crack team, huh?" he asked, placing the binder on the flat area.

"Feel free to take one," Bailey offered, turning back to her paperwork. They all looked expectantly at the attending when he passed his gaze over them.

"Jailbait." At first, none of them moved, a confused aura surrounding them until, reluctantly, Emily moved to stand beside Mark. Bailey gave them a look as Alex cursed under his breath.

"Stevens, you're shadowing Moore, today."

"Come on." He clipped his pen to his pocket as they started down the hall. Izzie stayed a distance behind, watching the two closely.

"You can't spoil me like this," she chastised quietly to keep their conversation between them. "You should have chosen Alex; I owe him a favor."

"What, speaking for the boyfriend?" he asked in the same volume, trying to keep his tone light.

"What?" Her face scrunched up. "No! Alex and I are just friends. And he likes plastics. Plus, you gave me an extremely expensive, beautiful coat so you can't give me the cool surgery, too."

"Thought you'd be pretty to look at while I work," he joked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her towards him. She glared up at him in faux anger before relenting. "I want you on this case. You're my favourite intern and Bailey gave me a choice." His arm fell away as he opened the door to the stairwell, taking two at a time. "Any questions?"

"You don't teach, Sloan," she said dryly, following after him.

"I don't," he agreed. "But you're a friend, so…" Laughing, she pondered aloud.

"Will you be doing the nerve graft and skin reconstruction?" He turned, taking out some money. "No. I am your friend. Your friend. Don't do this," she added dramatically, grasping onto his coat like a dying woman. He held out a few bills, an innocent look to his face. "Bone dry cappuccino and what else? This is way too much for just that."

"A blueberry scone." He smiled, a genuine one that touched his eyes as she took the wrinkled bills half-heartedly. "And yes, I'll be doing both. Fine," he added, caving at her expression, and adding another ten dollars, "get something for yourself."

"Cafeteria's on the second floor and a coffee cart is in the lobby," she muttered, stuffing the money in her pocket. Cocking his head to the side, he gave her a hooded look. "Only because you're eye-candy," she teased, going back down the steps. "Come on, Iz, we're getting coffee.

"Hey! You know I like mouthy brunettes," he called back, a twinkle to his eyes.

"Whatever," she riposted. "I'll get you a croissant for that." With a final dimpled smile, she opened the door and disappeared.

.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" Izzie asked as they walked back to the hospital. Waiting for the light to change, Emily glanced at Izzie.

"Because I don't mind. We're friends."

"Yeah, and what about the interns who aren't buddy-buddy with Sloan? It just feels like a waste of time," the blonde muttered. The light changed and they began to cross. "I'm just asking. He asks us to do these things as if we respect him enough to do it but I'm not respecting him if he doesn't do anything worth respecting."

"Iz-"

"Sorry. I know you like him," Izzie apologized quietly and Emily looked away from her friend. "You do, don't you?"

"That obvious?"

"No. I can just tell. Besides, we went, like, all over town to find those scones." The wind swept against their face as they dodged a man in a suit running down the street. "I'm just saying, maybe he should be better."

"I'll try," promised the brunette. "I don't like it either and I've tried to stop him before but I guess this time, I'll have to really knock it into his head." Izzie smiled down at her as the doors slid open and they walked into the lobby.

.

Confusion.

That's what he was feeling. Confusion for his situation, for his feelings, for what he did, for where he was. What kind of person falls in love with their best friend's wife? Furthermore, what kind of person sleeps with said wife and fucks it up with her too? What kind of person finds someone like Emily Moore, an angel in all ways, and manages to snag her as a friend?

Mark Sloan was the answer to all these questions. Mark Sloan who regretted hurting Derek, regretted falling in love with Addison. Mark Sloan, who, every day, loved her less and less. It was miniscule, day by day, things so small he barely noticed until he did.

Maybe that was why he spent eight grand on a trench coat for Emily, because her smile was the thing that really lit up the grey Seattle skies. Or maybe it was the scent of her, flowers and coffee and the soft, yet sharp smell of antiseptic from lingering in the hospital for days on end that always lingered in his mind like a hypnotic smoke.

Addison smelt like high-end perfume, elegant and sweet, almost, with a touch of detergent from her clothes.

She smelt clean and fresh as her appearance every day at the hospital while Emily was a messy plethora of different smells that came together that was so uniquely her. She was the coffeeshop on the corner of the hospital's block, she was her apartment in that grey building, she was the hospital, sometimes she was Joe's bar, she was everything

Mark, at one point in his life, thought he knew what he wanted. Now he wasn't so sure. He just knew he couldn't lose Emily, someone who had subtly entered his life, had set him aflame like no one else ever had with her sarcasm and kindness and just her. He thought of their kiss in the attendings room, how the first one felt like chaos, upsetting his stomach almost with how off it felt and how the second, third, fourth… They felt real.

He thought of everything he learned about her, thought about her. Thought of how her fingers and knuckles were calloused the few times they'd brush hands or the softness of her palm when she had held his jaw in her hand. Thought of how her eyes, hazel, switched between gold and green accents depending on the light, and always held a note of care and attentiveness for him, as if he were the only thing that mattered, the only thing in her world.

She was the warmth that thawed the bitter cold in his heart, she was the sun between the dark clouds of loneliness, and she was the fire when Derek and Addison had doused every flame in his husk of a body.

She was… she was everything he never knew he needed. Someone who stayed no matter what.

And he couldn't ruin that.

So they'd stay friends, if that's what she wanted. She was a catch, it wouldn't surprise Mark if guys were lined up to ask her out. Still, he liked to imagine. He wanted to imagine.

What would life be like with her? Instead of Addison, who he loved for her sass and attitude and brilliance, who would argue until there was nothing left to say and they had crossed a line unable to return from, who'd rather cheat than leave - that, he knew well - and would stand firm in what she believed in; what would have happened if he was emotionally single for Emily's taking when there was still a chance?

He liked to think she was one who'd act none different than now. She would definitely leave rather than cheat, what with her fairy tale ideals, and she'd stop the arguing before it got to far. Table it for another time, perhaps, because she wanted them to last, not to win. Even for being a surgeon, he found that the ambition in her to win at others expense was nonexistent, only the drive to do what was right for others pushing her forward. She wasn't a shark, and for that, he feared for her. Surgery was a shark den. You either were a shark or you were eaten.

But there was something fierce about her that made him think she would survive. She was an irreplaceable surgeon, bright, humble, quiet, kind. He couldn't count the number of surgeons that were robots, who wanted more to cut than anything else. She wasn't one of them.

Because she was kind. She was giving. She knew where he was almost all the time, was on top of his life even when she could barely keep hers together, because he needed her. He was the broken one. It's almost like she took a little bit of love from tomorrow so there was enough for today, and his heart ached when she lied to him one day at the bar, early in the morning, "You're the damaged one. I'm fine."

He didn't know the right way to tell her that being lonely was a form of self-destruction. So he bought her another drink and then drove her home.

She invaded his mind, made herself at home, her eyes daring him to forget her as he stayed up at night in the Archfield, usually a time when he thought about a certain redhead, but now he only had thoughts for the messy-haired brunette who worked at the hospital his ex-best friend and his ex-wife worked at.

"Do you think Addison is your one?"

"I don't know."

He didn't know and only now did he realize why. It was because of her.

.

"Here you go! I think I might be the best, sorry I took so long." She held out the cardboard tray to him, letting him take his cappuccino. "Blueberry and lemon. I know it's your favorite and you mentioned them while you were still in New York, so." Taking out a box of them, she placed it on the counter. He grinned crazily, seeing the baked goods; they really were his favorite.

"And what'd you get for yourself?" he asked, taking one out and biting into it. Shrugging, she smiled. "Nothing?"

"The box cost most of it and then I just got a coffee. It's nothing." She waved off his attempts to offer her a sip of his cappuccino and lifted her own plain coffee. Grabbing his scone out of his hand, she nibbled on it, sighing at its flavor. "So worth it though." He nodded, snatching it back. Placing her own coffee cup on the counter, she sent him a proud smile.

"Mine." He fake-sulked, finishing the scone and washing it down with the cappuccino. "Don't make me do it," he warned, seeing her hand sneaking towards the box. Raising her eyebrows, the appendage didn't retreat.

"What?"

"This!" Grabbing her around the waist, he swung her around as she let out a laugh. He chuckled heartily, twirling before setting her down. Crashing into his chest, her bout of laughter left her breathless and her shoulders shook as she buried her face into his chest. Mark's laughter died before hers and she lifted her face to see his frozen expression. Turning around, she was faced with Addison who stared at them strangely before continuing her way, grabbing a binder and walking stiffly away from their vision.

"Sloan?" When he didn't respond, she frowned. "Mark. Are you okay?" He tucked his chin in to look at her, biting his lip.

"Yeah, fine." He sure as hell didn't sound fine.

.

"I can't eat another one," she said, leaning beside Mark and resting her head against his shoulder as he worked on a chart. The box was almost finished, with two scones left and he chuckled. Their elbows touched and he smiled as she moved her head to peer at what he was writing.

"Where's Stevens?"

"Checking in on the twins. Can I ask you something?" she began quietly and he nodded. "Why do you not let any of your interns ever do anything?"

"Because they're nobodies. Not worth my respect or time," he said easily and she frowned. "Better for them to run errands than to screw up one of my patients."

"Well, how'll they learn? And how will anyone respect you like that?" she countered and he paused in his scribbling, glancing at her. "I understand that you want the best for your patients, but you can't do that by reducing us to errand runners. You know, over time, you won't be a respected attending if nothing you do is worth respecting."

"Moore-"

"I'm just saying," she said, worrying her lip. She took a few steps away and sighed, swallowing and trying to think of something to say. "When we scrub in today, let Dr. Stevens scrub in. Maybe that's where you could start."

.

"That was so cool! And thanks for letting Izzie scrub in." Mark offered a smile before realizing the date. I can deal with it tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow will be worse, he added before looking at the brunette at his side. She was still in her surgical gown but her scrub cap was gone, leaving a messy tangle of hair atop her head.

"Yeah. I'm just glad Derek doesn't know. Otherwise he probably would've forfeited that surgery." Mark shook his head as the surgical team began wheeling the second twin past them.

"Derek's my friend" Emily argued, crossing her arms, "I don't like keeping secrets from him."

"Derek isn't the boss of you; it's not something he needs to know," Mark informed and she rolled her eyes. "Now. I'm hungry,"

"Eat then," was her sarcastic reply and he sighed, acting all disappointed. "Okay, okay. I'm off shift in an hour, can you wait until then unless you have plans?" She stopped at the elevator, pressing the button and turning to him.

"Nope. Don't think Addison's asking for a date anytime soon," he joked but was intrigued to see her smile freeze for a split second. Choosing to ignore it, he crossed his arms. "Any ideas?"

"You are staying at the Archfield, right? Why don't we just have room service?"

"But my primal urges won't be able to be held back," he said teasingly. She shook her head slightly at his statement, rolling her eyes. She pulled the hair tie out of her hair and shimmied it onto her wrist as the doors opened.

"I'm sure we'll be fine. You've adjusted around me, haven't you?" she teased. "I'm going to just finish up some paperwork. I'll meet you outside when my shifit is over."

"It's a date!" he said as she walked into the elevator. She leaned against the wall with her hand, shaking her head to herself. He smiled and turned away, counting down the minutes until her shift was done.

A/N: Edited - September 9, 2018