Lightning Strikes Twice - Part 3
Title: Lightning Strikes Twice
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: Duh. (Mer/Der)
Rating: M
Timeline: Post Time After Time.
~~~~~
Airplanes had a hum to them. Derek sat, absolutely still, not even the thrum of his nervously drumming fingers on the tray table to interrupt, for once. He gripped the sides of the seat. The roar of the plane as it tore through the outside air condensed in the crush of the cabin's atmosphere, and over the gradual advance of time, it had become so atrocious, he was starting to develop a headache, until he could barely hear himself think anymore. Added on to that obtrusive, aching hum, there were the people, all cramped together in a tight space. The aisle constantly bustled with activity. Elbows jabbed him as clumsy or wide individuals walked past. Kids screamed. People listened to headphones so loudly that the whisper of music and the tinny tap, tap, tap of percussive torture was audible to everyone nearby. Everything combined into a whirlwind of unpleasant noise, and Derek found himself sitting stiffly, rigid with tension, unwilling to move or open his eyes. His head, which had already started to throb when the low pressure had popped his ears in rapid succession hours ago, was getting uncomfortable enough that he was debating stabbing his eyes out with a cocktail toothpick. Except, in economy plus, they didn't serve cocktails with toothpicks.
He and Meredith had managed to book flight reservations, but for some reason, for every single flight they'd tried to reserve seats on, first class had been completely sold out, which had forced them to move back to economy plus. There was extra legroom, at least, and the seats weren't quite as cramped as coach. But, for a five plus hour flight, it wasn't really the way he wanted to be traveling. Not even his frequent flyer miles from all his consults had gotten them anything worthwhile. At least Meredith, as tiny as she was, and as considerate as she was, hadn't even debated who got the middle seat.
"You don't like flying, do you?" Meredith said as she put her magazine down on her tray table. She had been happily amusing herself with a copy of Cosmo. Derek had gotten a few glances at it before he'd started degenerating into the usual flight-bound pile of tension, even had a good laugh when she'd gotten to the five tips to please your man in bed article... She'd merely giggled it off and said it was bubblegum for the mind. He hadn't had a chance to read the tips before she'd yanked the magazine away and tilted it toward herself, giving him no angle of leverage to view the text. His mind had drifted after that, allowing his body to register the noise, the discomfort.
"What?" he asked, ripped from his third act of cataloging each and every painful sound.
"Well," she said. "You're sitting there, all Mr. Shallow Breathing, gripping the armrests like you think they might fall off if you let circulation into your fingers."
"Oh," he replied as she reached across and touched his hand. Her skin felt warm and dry against the back of his palm. He tried to let go of the armrests. The tendons in his hands and wrists ached they had been gripping them so stiffly.
She frowned. "And your hands are freezing. That's what it is, isn't it? The plane? You can't be this nervous about seeing your family, I hope..."
He shook his head vehemently. "No..." he stuttered. "No, of course not."
She grinned. "I never pictured you for the type."
"What type?"
"The type that hates planes," she replied with a shrug. She started to work at his fingers, work and rub and soothe. The act had a drugging effect, and his eyelids drooped as he started to relax a little.
"I don't hate planes," he mumbled as he leaned back in his seat. He force flexed all of his muscles at once into tight, solid balls, and then let them go in slow succession. A loitering ache spread into his legs and his back, and he squirmed in his seat just a moment before settling down again.
A perky, brown-haired stewardess in a navy flight dress walked past with a plastic trash bag, looking cheerful and false and overly done up as she offered the bag to him. He shook his head and muttered, "No trash." Meredith leaned across him and threw out a cup from the previous beverage distribution. The man in the window seat was conked out against the wall like a slobbering paste, and didn't seem to care one way or the other. He snored, low and gruff. Another sound to add to the raucous list of annoyances.
Derek glared as the stewardess smiled and moved on, relaxing a bit as she moved to the next row. He hadn't realized how much he'd flattened himself into the seat...
Meredith watched him, eyes glittering with amusement. "Well, you seem to hate being in them, even if you don't have an unhealthy plane prejudice yourself," she said.
He crossed his arms and sighed. "I'm not claustrophobic or anything," he said.
"I didn't say you were. Are you okay?"
He grinned at her with his best, yes I'm okay grin, hoping he didn't fail dismally. "I just don't like the roar. We could go try to join the mile high club. That might work to cure me..."
She frowned. "It's not worth it, Derek. Do you have any idea how small the lavatories are? And it's messy when you can't move to-"
"Wait," he said, interrupting her. "You've actually?"
Her frown deepened. "It's not a fond memory."
The look on her face, the way her lips pulled her entire face down into a dimpled, unhappy cast of dissatisfaction... He pulled his hand up to his mouth. The first snort, he managed to hide. But when she said, "Hey, you're laughing at me," he couldn't help it anymore, and was reduced to peals of laughter.
"You've actually..." he gasped. "I was kidding! You? I mean, I knew you liked to barhop for men in times of need, but..."
She practically growled at him. Her cheeks flushed into a pinkish tone, and her lower lip dipped into the most adorable pout... "It was before I went to med school."
"Don't tell me it was on your trip to Europe," he said, trying to recover at the thought of her trying to maneuver in one of those small bathrooms, her innate flexibility notwithstanding. Her face grew even more dour at his words, and he plunged into laughter again. "Oh, it was, wasn't it?"
"Shut up, Derek," she snapped. "At least I'm adventurous!"
He reigned in his mirth, only to picture it again. "No wonder you had an epiphany and went to medical school. It's what happens when you have bad sex with a Frenchman."
"And you would know that how?" she asked. Her amusing lack of amusement looked like it was dripping lower into genuine anger, and he immediately tried to tamp it down.
"I wouldn't," he said. "I'm just teasing, Mere. Sorry."
She glared at him, her arms crossed over her chest. "No, you're not."
"Okay, fine. I'm not sorry." He grinned at her. "You're just so cute when you're miffed."
She reached down and started to fiddle with her magazine, flipping the pages, rolling it into twists. "So, how is this going to work?" she asked after a long pause.
He frowned. "You seriously want to try? I'm game..."
She took the magazine and whacked his shoulder with it. Unable to dodge, he took the hit with a frown, but slowly dissolved back into a grin when she grinned back. For a moment, their eyes met, and he forgot all about the shitty plane ride, the fact that he wanted to stretch and run around in laps if only to ease the tension, and the pounding thrum of the noise on his eardrums. She snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him, and what remained of his nerves shed away like an extra layer of clothing. And then a stewardess brushed past and ruined everything. He pulled back and jammed up into his private ball of tension. Meredith frowned, licking her lips, a slight flush dusting her face as she panted.
"I meant meeting your family, Derek," she said as she recovered. "You have such a gutter-bound mind."
"Me? Just who is kissing whom, might I ask?" he said. She opened her mouth to protest, and he quickly rushed to add, "Not that I mind. Please continue, if you want."
She sighed. "Seriously, Derek."
"Seriously, Mere," he replied, mimicking her exhausted tone, though it wasn't much of a stretch to imitate at this point. He ran his hands through his hair. "It will be fine after they warm up to you."
"Are we talking recovering from a minor ice age type warming, though, or just kind of... temperate to tropical?"
"Mere, they're more mad at me right now. I'll be there to take the brunt of it. Everything will be fine. You just be you," he said, smiling as he reached to run a finger through her hair. She leaned into the touch with a smile. "And I'll run them off with a shovel if things get bad."
At first, he thought he'd gotten to her, made her relax a little, but then a grimace pulled her face into a creased look of worry. "I'm never going to live up to Addison, am I?"
"What makes you think you have to live up to her at all?"
"I-"
"Mere, my family isn't like yours," he said. "It might take a few tries. But everything will work out once they figure out I'm serious about you."
"That would make me feel better if it didn't sound like you were trying to convince yourself as well. It's not just the airplane that's making you this nervous. Is it."
"Maybe I..." He paused.
A pang of guilt struck him as he looked at her, all worried and gorgeous and genuinely concerned with the impression she was going to make to his family. He'd been nervous about it at first, really nervous, but it'd dulled the more he mulled over it. It'd been so, so long since he'd had to endure it, but they'd been just as judgmental about Addison at first, and they'd grown to love her dearly. When he'd brought her to meet them, back when the both of them had still been in medical school, his mother had just about had conniptions. He couldn't even remember the rant at this point. When they'd gotten engaged, though, his mother had cried she'd been so happy. So, it would be okay, he assured himself. He hoped it would be okay immediately, but if it wasn't, it definitely would be in the long run. And that was good, because Meredith... Meredith needed a family that she didn't think of on the same level as Chinese water torture.
Then again, the issue was compounded at the moment. Compounded by other issues that were entirely not Meredith's fault. And by bringing her along for this trip, it probably would be worse than it should be. He sighed.
"What?" Meredith prodded. "Maybe you what?"
He blinked. "Maybe I should have come alone this first time. I... I don't know. I don't want all the shit I've done to mess things up for you. But I..."
One of her eyebrows peaked. "You..."
"I like that you're here," he said with a shrug. And, really, it was as simple as that.
She smiled in a grin that crept up around her eyes and pinched them into a narrow, truly jovial look. Her eyes sparked. And the blush that came this time wasn't one of embarrassment or anger.
"So," she said, clearing her throat when the moment became so thick he thought he might jump her right there. "Are you, uh, are you going to take me on the Derek tour of Manhattan to make up for my pain and suffering? I've never been carted around by a native before."
He smiled. "Maybe on the way back we can leave a day early. But Mom's expecting us for dinner tonight, so no time when we land."
"Okay," she said. "Do they serve tequila on planes?"
"Only in bottles the size of your thumb." He drew up her hand and kissed it. He whispered into her knuckles, "It's hardly worth it."
"Damn," she replied with a frown.
"It'll be all right, Meredith," he said. "And even if it's not, after this week, if you really can't stand them, I'll never let them near you again. I promise."
Her serious look darkened. "I don't want you to give up your family just because I suck at them, Derek."
"You don't suck at families, Meredith," he said. "You just haven't had the right one to enjoy yet."
She leaned into him, leaned until her face was an inch from his own. Another beautiful smile blossomed on her face. He just about died in her gaze. "Sap," she whispered.
"So," he said, leaning in to kiss her quickly. "Now I'm a sap in addition to gutter-bound?"
Her hands wrapped around his neck, and he felt her fingers snaking up through his hair. "Yep," she whispered, millimeters from his lips. "But you're cute, at least."
He raised an eyebrow, basking in the heat that wafted from her skin, so close to his own. "You sure you don't want to do the mile high thing? You've got me curious."
"Derek..."
"Right. Behaving now, else I get deprived later."
She laughed and relaxed back into her seat, peeling her issue of Cosmo open to the place she'd left off at. Some picture of a muscle-clad, overly tanned male model, naked in a tub with suds in just the right places to obscure the goods. He sighed.
"You're making me jealous, you know," he whispered in her ear.
She closed the magazine. "I'm going to try tip number four on you tonight. No need to be jealous."
He reached for the magazine. "What's tip number four?"
She pulled the magazine back and thwacked his hands with it. "It's a surprise," she whispered throatily.
A sudden squeal brought his gaze up to the speakers overhead. "All right, folks," a jovial male voice who'd earlier introduced himself as Captain Asherton said. "We're getting about ready to begin our final descent into LaGuardia. If you look out the windows on the left side of the plane, you'll get a great view of the city. We should be touching down in about twenty minutes."
"Thank god," he grumbled.
Meredith ran her hand along his forearm in a soothing motion.
He tried not to paste himself into the seat this time during landing, but as they skidded onto the runway and thunked up and down as the plane tried to settle, he couldn't help it anymore, and he was a tense pile again. Only when the plane finally taxied into the gate did he inhale something that resembled an actual breath. People crushed all around him as he reached overhead for his and Meredith's carryon bags.
They slowly departed the plane, managed to go find their luggage without issue at the baggage claim, and went over to the rental desk to pick up the car. Meredith leaned up against the counter, hip jutting sexily at him while he commissioned a mid-sized sedan. The rental agent slid the keys across the desk with a smile. Derek grasped them in one hand and pulled away from the counter with the rental agreement fisted in the other hand. Meredith rolled their suitcases along. He would have taken one from her, but she looked happy, appeared to be enjoying exploring, even just the airport terminal.
"Haven't you been here before?" he asked as they trundled to the rental shuttle and her gaze continued to wander around in a sweeping set of stares that just screamed her tourist status.
She shrugged. "New York, yes, once or twice. LaGuardia, no. We always just drove from Boston. This place is..."
"Busy?"
"I was going to say huge. But busy works as well," she said as the bus driver for the rental shuttle came around to grab their luggage. They took a seat cramped between dozens of other people wanting cars and were taken out to the lot.
The bus dropped them off right at the car. He popped the trunk and put the luggage in it while Meredith settled in the passenger side seat. He came around and adjusted all the mirrors, checked the gas level, and fixed the seat to his preference. He turned to her and grinned as he turned the key in the ignition. "Okay, we should be there in about two and a half hours, give or take. Doing okay?"
She nodded.
"Well, on your left," he said as they navigated out of the airport parking lot and onto the main road, "You have a view of the water. We'll cross the Whitestone Bridge soon."
"Mmm," she murmured. "You have a sexy tour guide voice."
He laughed. "Well, that was pretty much my entire spiel. Manhattan is mostly behind us. And after we get out of the city there won't be much to look at, I'm afraid."
"So, two hours, huh?"
"Roughly."
She shuffled around and pulled out her copy of Cosmo again. "Might as well finish it before it gets dark."
He grinned. "Are you going to tell me about tip number four?"
"Nope," she said. "I told you. It's a surprise."
He licked his lips. "I'll hold you to that. No balking because it's my mother's house."
She chuckled, and he drove across the bridge.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Pairing: Duh. (Mer/Der)
Rating: M
Timeline: Post Time After Time.
~~~~~
Airplanes had a hum to them. Derek sat, absolutely still, not even the thrum of his nervously drumming fingers on the tray table to interrupt, for once. He gripped the sides of the seat. The roar of the plane as it tore through the outside air condensed in the crush of the cabin's atmosphere, and over the gradual advance of time, it had become so atrocious, he was starting to develop a headache, until he could barely hear himself think anymore. Added on to that obtrusive, aching hum, there were the people, all cramped together in a tight space. The aisle constantly bustled with activity. Elbows jabbed him as clumsy or wide individuals walked past. Kids screamed. People listened to headphones so loudly that the whisper of music and the tinny tap, tap, tap of percussive torture was audible to everyone nearby. Everything combined into a whirlwind of unpleasant noise, and Derek found himself sitting stiffly, rigid with tension, unwilling to move or open his eyes. His head, which had already started to throb when the low pressure had popped his ears in rapid succession hours ago, was getting uncomfortable enough that he was debating stabbing his eyes out with a cocktail toothpick. Except, in economy plus, they didn't serve cocktails with toothpicks.
He and Meredith had managed to book flight reservations, but for some reason, for every single flight they'd tried to reserve seats on, first class had been completely sold out, which had forced them to move back to economy plus. There was extra legroom, at least, and the seats weren't quite as cramped as coach. But, for a five plus hour flight, it wasn't really the way he wanted to be traveling. Not even his frequent flyer miles from all his consults had gotten them anything worthwhile. At least Meredith, as tiny as she was, and as considerate as she was, hadn't even debated who got the middle seat.
"You don't like flying, do you?" Meredith said as she put her magazine down on her tray table. She had been happily amusing herself with a copy of Cosmo. Derek had gotten a few glances at it before he'd started degenerating into the usual flight-bound pile of tension, even had a good laugh when she'd gotten to the five tips to please your man in bed article... She'd merely giggled it off and said it was bubblegum for the mind. He hadn't had a chance to read the tips before she'd yanked the magazine away and tilted it toward herself, giving him no angle of leverage to view the text. His mind had drifted after that, allowing his body to register the noise, the discomfort.
"What?" he asked, ripped from his third act of cataloging each and every painful sound.
"Well," she said. "You're sitting there, all Mr. Shallow Breathing, gripping the armrests like you think they might fall off if you let circulation into your fingers."
"Oh," he replied as she reached across and touched his hand. Her skin felt warm and dry against the back of his palm. He tried to let go of the armrests. The tendons in his hands and wrists ached they had been gripping them so stiffly.
She frowned. "And your hands are freezing. That's what it is, isn't it? The plane? You can't be this nervous about seeing your family, I hope..."
He shook his head vehemently. "No..." he stuttered. "No, of course not."
She grinned. "I never pictured you for the type."
"What type?"
"The type that hates planes," she replied with a shrug. She started to work at his fingers, work and rub and soothe. The act had a drugging effect, and his eyelids drooped as he started to relax a little.
"I don't hate planes," he mumbled as he leaned back in his seat. He force flexed all of his muscles at once into tight, solid balls, and then let them go in slow succession. A loitering ache spread into his legs and his back, and he squirmed in his seat just a moment before settling down again.
A perky, brown-haired stewardess in a navy flight dress walked past with a plastic trash bag, looking cheerful and false and overly done up as she offered the bag to him. He shook his head and muttered, "No trash." Meredith leaned across him and threw out a cup from the previous beverage distribution. The man in the window seat was conked out against the wall like a slobbering paste, and didn't seem to care one way or the other. He snored, low and gruff. Another sound to add to the raucous list of annoyances.
Derek glared as the stewardess smiled and moved on, relaxing a bit as she moved to the next row. He hadn't realized how much he'd flattened himself into the seat...
Meredith watched him, eyes glittering with amusement. "Well, you seem to hate being in them, even if you don't have an unhealthy plane prejudice yourself," she said.
He crossed his arms and sighed. "I'm not claustrophobic or anything," he said.
"I didn't say you were. Are you okay?"
He grinned at her with his best, yes I'm okay grin, hoping he didn't fail dismally. "I just don't like the roar. We could go try to join the mile high club. That might work to cure me..."
She frowned. "It's not worth it, Derek. Do you have any idea how small the lavatories are? And it's messy when you can't move to-"
"Wait," he said, interrupting her. "You've actually?"
Her frown deepened. "It's not a fond memory."
The look on her face, the way her lips pulled her entire face down into a dimpled, unhappy cast of dissatisfaction... He pulled his hand up to his mouth. The first snort, he managed to hide. But when she said, "Hey, you're laughing at me," he couldn't help it anymore, and was reduced to peals of laughter.
"You've actually..." he gasped. "I was kidding! You? I mean, I knew you liked to barhop for men in times of need, but..."
She practically growled at him. Her cheeks flushed into a pinkish tone, and her lower lip dipped into the most adorable pout... "It was before I went to med school."
"Don't tell me it was on your trip to Europe," he said, trying to recover at the thought of her trying to maneuver in one of those small bathrooms, her innate flexibility notwithstanding. Her face grew even more dour at his words, and he plunged into laughter again. "Oh, it was, wasn't it?"
"Shut up, Derek," she snapped. "At least I'm adventurous!"
He reigned in his mirth, only to picture it again. "No wonder you had an epiphany and went to medical school. It's what happens when you have bad sex with a Frenchman."
"And you would know that how?" she asked. Her amusing lack of amusement looked like it was dripping lower into genuine anger, and he immediately tried to tamp it down.
"I wouldn't," he said. "I'm just teasing, Mere. Sorry."
She glared at him, her arms crossed over her chest. "No, you're not."
"Okay, fine. I'm not sorry." He grinned at her. "You're just so cute when you're miffed."
She reached down and started to fiddle with her magazine, flipping the pages, rolling it into twists. "So, how is this going to work?" she asked after a long pause.
He frowned. "You seriously want to try? I'm game..."
She took the magazine and whacked his shoulder with it. Unable to dodge, he took the hit with a frown, but slowly dissolved back into a grin when she grinned back. For a moment, their eyes met, and he forgot all about the shitty plane ride, the fact that he wanted to stretch and run around in laps if only to ease the tension, and the pounding thrum of the noise on his eardrums. She snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him, and what remained of his nerves shed away like an extra layer of clothing. And then a stewardess brushed past and ruined everything. He pulled back and jammed up into his private ball of tension. Meredith frowned, licking her lips, a slight flush dusting her face as she panted.
"I meant meeting your family, Derek," she said as she recovered. "You have such a gutter-bound mind."
"Me? Just who is kissing whom, might I ask?" he said. She opened her mouth to protest, and he quickly rushed to add, "Not that I mind. Please continue, if you want."
She sighed. "Seriously, Derek."
"Seriously, Mere," he replied, mimicking her exhausted tone, though it wasn't much of a stretch to imitate at this point. He ran his hands through his hair. "It will be fine after they warm up to you."
"Are we talking recovering from a minor ice age type warming, though, or just kind of... temperate to tropical?"
"Mere, they're more mad at me right now. I'll be there to take the brunt of it. Everything will be fine. You just be you," he said, smiling as he reached to run a finger through her hair. She leaned into the touch with a smile. "And I'll run them off with a shovel if things get bad."
At first, he thought he'd gotten to her, made her relax a little, but then a grimace pulled her face into a creased look of worry. "I'm never going to live up to Addison, am I?"
"What makes you think you have to live up to her at all?"
"I-"
"Mere, my family isn't like yours," he said. "It might take a few tries. But everything will work out once they figure out I'm serious about you."
"That would make me feel better if it didn't sound like you were trying to convince yourself as well. It's not just the airplane that's making you this nervous. Is it."
"Maybe I..." He paused.
A pang of guilt struck him as he looked at her, all worried and gorgeous and genuinely concerned with the impression she was going to make to his family. He'd been nervous about it at first, really nervous, but it'd dulled the more he mulled over it. It'd been so, so long since he'd had to endure it, but they'd been just as judgmental about Addison at first, and they'd grown to love her dearly. When he'd brought her to meet them, back when the both of them had still been in medical school, his mother had just about had conniptions. He couldn't even remember the rant at this point. When they'd gotten engaged, though, his mother had cried she'd been so happy. So, it would be okay, he assured himself. He hoped it would be okay immediately, but if it wasn't, it definitely would be in the long run. And that was good, because Meredith... Meredith needed a family that she didn't think of on the same level as Chinese water torture.
Then again, the issue was compounded at the moment. Compounded by other issues that were entirely not Meredith's fault. And by bringing her along for this trip, it probably would be worse than it should be. He sighed.
"What?" Meredith prodded. "Maybe you what?"
He blinked. "Maybe I should have come alone this first time. I... I don't know. I don't want all the shit I've done to mess things up for you. But I..."
One of her eyebrows peaked. "You..."
"I like that you're here," he said with a shrug. And, really, it was as simple as that.
She smiled in a grin that crept up around her eyes and pinched them into a narrow, truly jovial look. Her eyes sparked. And the blush that came this time wasn't one of embarrassment or anger.
"So," she said, clearing her throat when the moment became so thick he thought he might jump her right there. "Are you, uh, are you going to take me on the Derek tour of Manhattan to make up for my pain and suffering? I've never been carted around by a native before."
He smiled. "Maybe on the way back we can leave a day early. But Mom's expecting us for dinner tonight, so no time when we land."
"Okay," she said. "Do they serve tequila on planes?"
"Only in bottles the size of your thumb." He drew up her hand and kissed it. He whispered into her knuckles, "It's hardly worth it."
"Damn," she replied with a frown.
"It'll be all right, Meredith," he said. "And even if it's not, after this week, if you really can't stand them, I'll never let them near you again. I promise."
Her serious look darkened. "I don't want you to give up your family just because I suck at them, Derek."
"You don't suck at families, Meredith," he said. "You just haven't had the right one to enjoy yet."
She leaned into him, leaned until her face was an inch from his own. Another beautiful smile blossomed on her face. He just about died in her gaze. "Sap," she whispered.
"So," he said, leaning in to kiss her quickly. "Now I'm a sap in addition to gutter-bound?"
Her hands wrapped around his neck, and he felt her fingers snaking up through his hair. "Yep," she whispered, millimeters from his lips. "But you're cute, at least."
He raised an eyebrow, basking in the heat that wafted from her skin, so close to his own. "You sure you don't want to do the mile high thing? You've got me curious."
"Derek..."
"Right. Behaving now, else I get deprived later."
She laughed and relaxed back into her seat, peeling her issue of Cosmo open to the place she'd left off at. Some picture of a muscle-clad, overly tanned male model, naked in a tub with suds in just the right places to obscure the goods. He sighed.
"You're making me jealous, you know," he whispered in her ear.
She closed the magazine. "I'm going to try tip number four on you tonight. No need to be jealous."
He reached for the magazine. "What's tip number four?"
She pulled the magazine back and thwacked his hands with it. "It's a surprise," she whispered throatily.
A sudden squeal brought his gaze up to the speakers overhead. "All right, folks," a jovial male voice who'd earlier introduced himself as Captain Asherton said. "We're getting about ready to begin our final descent into LaGuardia. If you look out the windows on the left side of the plane, you'll get a great view of the city. We should be touching down in about twenty minutes."
"Thank god," he grumbled.
Meredith ran her hand along his forearm in a soothing motion.
He tried not to paste himself into the seat this time during landing, but as they skidded onto the runway and thunked up and down as the plane tried to settle, he couldn't help it anymore, and he was a tense pile again. Only when the plane finally taxied into the gate did he inhale something that resembled an actual breath. People crushed all around him as he reached overhead for his and Meredith's carryon bags.
They slowly departed the plane, managed to go find their luggage without issue at the baggage claim, and went over to the rental desk to pick up the car. Meredith leaned up against the counter, hip jutting sexily at him while he commissioned a mid-sized sedan. The rental agent slid the keys across the desk with a smile. Derek grasped them in one hand and pulled away from the counter with the rental agreement fisted in the other hand. Meredith rolled their suitcases along. He would have taken one from her, but she looked happy, appeared to be enjoying exploring, even just the airport terminal.
"Haven't you been here before?" he asked as they trundled to the rental shuttle and her gaze continued to wander around in a sweeping set of stares that just screamed her tourist status.
She shrugged. "New York, yes, once or twice. LaGuardia, no. We always just drove from Boston. This place is..."
"Busy?"
"I was going to say huge. But busy works as well," she said as the bus driver for the rental shuttle came around to grab their luggage. They took a seat cramped between dozens of other people wanting cars and were taken out to the lot.
The bus dropped them off right at the car. He popped the trunk and put the luggage in it while Meredith settled in the passenger side seat. He came around and adjusted all the mirrors, checked the gas level, and fixed the seat to his preference. He turned to her and grinned as he turned the key in the ignition. "Okay, we should be there in about two and a half hours, give or take. Doing okay?"
She nodded.
"Well, on your left," he said as they navigated out of the airport parking lot and onto the main road, "You have a view of the water. We'll cross the Whitestone Bridge soon."
"Mmm," she murmured. "You have a sexy tour guide voice."
He laughed. "Well, that was pretty much my entire spiel. Manhattan is mostly behind us. And after we get out of the city there won't be much to look at, I'm afraid."
"So, two hours, huh?"
"Roughly."
She shuffled around and pulled out her copy of Cosmo again. "Might as well finish it before it gets dark."
He grinned. "Are you going to tell me about tip number four?"
"Nope," she said. "I told you. It's a surprise."
He licked his lips. "I'll hold you to that. No balking because it's my mother's house."
She chuckled, and he drove across the bridge.