Chapter Text
Big baby blues is what you call her. In your head, of course. Out loud, it’s Doctor Grey, even steering away from her first name; always professional, detached but not cold, perfectly neutral.
Ironically enough, it’s not because she’s a baby, although you told Derek to get over his Perfect-Twelve-Year-Old phase, as you referred to Meredith (she seems to be more than that, but the Perfect part is holding up).
It’s the damn eyes.
Her eyes. They’re so blue, endlessly blue, that you really believe could swallow you whole if an attempt was made. An entire ocean in one pair of eyes, a pair that makes you reconsider if you’re as good of a swimmer that you think you are, because fuck, you think you might be drowning already.
And you tell yourself it’s nothing, really, just a color and just a set of eyes. Certainly not an ocean—you would never say something so cheesy—and even if, you are definitely not diving in.
You try to date it back to the first time you had met her, when you barged into Derek’s new life (and hers, by extension) and made an abrupt introduction. Your palm meeting hers for a brief handshake, eyes connecting for a split second before sliding back to Derek’s with a harsh “must be the woman who’s screwing my husband.” All you could concur is that she was the opposite of you: blonde hair to your red, soft facial features to your sharp, blue eyes to your green. The Anti-Thesis of Addison. The girlfriend of your husband.
And really, even then, it was memorable (only by the slightest) to witness her blue eyes becoming big, widening with shock at your words. That was your first impression of Meredith Grey; underneath her relationship with Derek and her status as an intern, or what you outwardly titled her as your husband’s Perfect-Twelve-Year-Old.
Baby blue.
And it all spun out from there, to you requesting her on your service and now, she’s suddenly orbiting your world. Or maybe it’s the other way around.
She meets your gaze head on, with those blues, and it’s undoubtedly impressive. To stand straight in the presence of Satan, even when you’re firing questions at her—she answers them just as quickly, and looks at you all while doing so. You’re not harsh on her, not any different from any other intern (except for the fact she’s Meredith Grey. Incredibly different in a good way).
She’s impressive. Promising for an intern, and your ‘highly recommended’ joke wasn’t really a dig; you see why she’s so favored when she’s constantly striving for knowledge and experience.
You say just as much when your pregnant patient seems to wrongly judge Meredith, wanting her off the case. It sort of spirals from there as you reveal that you cheated on Derek, not the other way around, before you slip out.
There’s some more squabbling with Derek the next day until the urge to find Meredith builds up and makes you search for her. “I assume he told you why he left me?” you ask once she follows, Meredith coming to a stop in the hallway and looking at you.
“Doctor Shepherd, with all due respect, this has nothing to do with me,” she says. And you don’t know why, but this time you’re following, probing if she took him back or not—which it seems she didn’t—and maybe it’s the fact that you’re taller than her enough to peer down and that she’s kind of really beautiful, but the words “Good girl” slip out of your mouth. You study the side of her profile—beautiful, indeed—as you stride next to her.
She’s flustered for a second before continuing, “And in the future, I’d appreciate it if we could keep our relationship strictly professional.” She pivots the corner, walking away from you, surely annoyed. The truth is her request annoys you, too, and the truth is this time, you know why. You know why it slips out from your mouth.
“Meredith,” you call out, actually using her first name. The blonde turns around, to your surprise. “Sometimes people do desperate things to get someone’s attention.” You watch her reaction, her tense jaw, the frustration practically bleeding off the intern. “There are two sides to every story,” you add on.
She doesn’t leave. She stands, pausing with lips pursued. You don’t receive a response. You receive a tight nod, but her eyes meet yours with understanding. “Okay,” she says, a murmur that is low and - well. “Okay.” There’s nothing else; she walks away, but as your gaze connects for one last time—
You think, you are diving in.