Chapter Two — Awkward Moment !

The move to Seattle from London was a hard adjustment, but Nate Mercer was used to it. He'd had to adjust from moving to London. So why should it be any different.

He was also glad that he was paying his debts off, able to live in a decent apartment in a good neighbourhood, have his own space, without having to have any roommates. The same couldn't be said for Meredith Grey, who had put up a poster looking for roommates.

He chuckled to himself, he remembered those days, he'd actually rented a house with Derek when they studied at Columbia together. It was good. He loved his time at medical school, or most of it. He'd even had some of Derek's friends there. Having roommates was fun, and needed especially as interns, you spent hours with these people, and having roommates you could trust was a bonus.

But Nate didn't need roommates now, he'd grown acclimatised to be being on his own.

Nate Mercer was staring at the glowing numbers above the elevator doors, a Starbucks cup clutched in one hand and his phone in the other. The smell of caffeine was comforting, grounding, even as the chaos of the hospital swirled around them. He had been here for less than a week, and Seattle Grace was already testing his patience. But what else was new? Medicine had a way of eroding you if you let it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Derek Shepherd approach, casual as always, with that unshakable charm radiating from his stupidly perfect smile. Of course, Derek would be the type to make a navy scrub cap look effortless. Nate let out a quiet sigh and took another sip of his coffee, pretending not to notice.

"Nate," Derek greeted, leaning against the wall beside him, close enough for Nate to feel the heat of his presence but far enough that it didn't feel like an accident.

"Derek," Nate replied, his voice clipped. He didn't look up from his  patients' charts, though he wasn't reading a single word on the screen.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two men.

Derek glances at him, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "You're really not going to say anything?"

Nate doesn't look up. "What do you want me to say, Derek?"

"I don't know," Derek says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. "Something. Anything. You've been acting like I don't exist."

Nate lets out a short, humorless laugh. "That's rich coming from you." He flips the page of his chart with a deliberate slowness. "Anyway, I'm busy."

"With what? Ignoring me?"

"With doing my job," Nate shoots back, finally looking up. His voice is quiet, controlled, but there's an edge to it. "You should try it sometime."

Derek turned to him, his expression softer now, almost hesitant. "How are you settling in?"

Nate shrugged, keeping his voice neutral. "It's a hospital. They're all the same after a while. Though I've got to say, the weather's doing wonders for my seasonal depression."

Derek laughed, and for a second, Nate hated how much he liked the sound.

Just then Meredith Grey joined the pair waiting for the lift, it was awkward. Nate watched Derek shift uncomfortably, and speak up,

"Seattle has ferry boats," though it seemed more of a statement rather than a conversation starter.

Meredith looked up at Derek, with a look of confusion & awkwardness in her eyes.

Nate's eyes flicked to her, then back to Derek, who was watching Meredith like she was the only person in the room. And there it was. That look. The one that told Nate everything he already knew.

"Yes," Meredith replied, her tone clipped but polite.

"I didn't know that," Derek said, clearly undeterred. "I've been living here six weeks, I didn't know there were ferry boats."

"Seattle is surrounded by water on three sides," Meredith shot back.

Nate hid his smirk behind his coffee cup. He could already tell she wasn't going to make this easy for Derek.

"Hence the ferry boats," Derek replied as the elevator dinged and they stepped inside. "Now I have to like it here. I wasn't planning on liking it here. I'm from New York. Genetically engineered to dislike everywhere except Manhattan. I have a thing for ferry boats."

The elevator doors slid shut, and Nate stepped to the back corner of the elevator, keeping his gaze fixed on the numbers overhead.

Meredith crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "I'm not going out with you."

Nate snorted before he could stop himself, earning glares from both of them. "Sorry," he said, raising his hand. "That just came out. Please, continue with your romantic comedy."

Derek blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Did I ask you to go out with me?" He paused, then added with a small, teasing smile, "Do you want to go out with me?"

Meredith's glare could have melted steel. "I'm not dating you. And I'm definitely not sleeping with you again. You're my boss."

Nate's head snapped toward Derek, his eyebrows shooting up. "Again?" he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Well, this just got interesting."

Meredith glared at him, cheeks flushing. "Not helping, Dr Mercer."

"Sorry, sorry," he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'll just stand here and pretend I'm not witnessing HR violations in real time."

Derek's smile widened. "I'm your boss's boss."

"You're my teacher," Meredith snapped. "And my teacher's teacher."

"I'm your sister, I'm your daughter, and I'm " Derek joked smoothly, his grin growing more boyish by the second, he got cut off.

"I'm stopping you right there," Nate cut in, stepping forward. "Because if the next words out of your mouth are 'I'm your soulmate' or something equally ridiculous, I'm going to lose it."

Derek arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, I absolutely do," Nate shot back, crossing his arms. "You're practically begging her to sleep with you, Derek. It's kind of sad. Like, I know you think  you've got that whole charming neurosurgeon thing going for you, but this? This is not your best work."

"You're sexually harassing me." Meredith pointed out.

"I'm riding an elevator."

Meredith let out an exasperated sigh, throwing her hands up. "Look, I'm drawing a line. The line is drawn. There's a big line."

The tension in the elevator was suffocating now, and Nate decided he'd had enough. Pushing himself off the wall, he grabbed his folder and stepped toward the door just as it slid open again.

"Well, this has been educational," he said dryly, glancing between the two of them. "Good luck with whatever this is."

Nate didn't wait for a response. As the doors closed behind him, he could still feel the weight of Derek's gaze on his back, but he didn't turn around. Whatever was going on between Derek and Meredith, it wasn't his problem.

At least, that's what he told himself.

The hallway was alive with the typical chaos of Seattle Grace, nurses barking orders, interns darting through the crowded corridors with clipboards in hand, and patients wheeled past on gurneys, their faces a mix of fear and exhaustion. Nate Mercer stood near the elevators, flipping through a patient chart with laser focus. His tie was slightly loosened, his white coat pristine, and yet his dark eyes betrayed just how little sleep he'd had.

He was trying, desperately, to immerse himself in the pages of lab results and MRI scans. It was the easiest way to block out the noise and the memories that Seattle kept dredging up.

Unfortunately, Derek Shepherd was louder than both.

"Nate," Derek called out, his voice cutting through the din like a knife.

Nate didn't even look up. "No, Derek."

Derek approached anyway, his stupidly charming grin firmly in place. "You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"Statistically speaking, it's probably something I don't want to hear," Nate replied, still staring at the chart.

Derek stopped beside him, leaning casually against the wall. "You wound me, Mercer."

"That was the goal," Nate muttered, snapping the chart shut. He finally looked up, one eyebrow raised in question. "All right, fine. Let's hear it. What's so important it couldn't wait until I've had more coffee?"

"You're going to love this," Derek said, his voice low and conspiratorial.

"Oh, God," Nate said immediately, his expression tightening. "The last time you said that, we ended up in a six-hour surgery on a guy who thought he could remove his own appendix. So no, I'm not going to love this."

"Better than that," Derek promised, his grin widening.

"Better?" Nate repeated, his tone flat with disbelief.

"Much better," Derek confirmed.

"I swear to God, if this ends with the words 'foreign object,' I'm walking away," Nate interrupted, holding up a hand.

"Nope," Derek said, clearly enjoying himself. "It ends with 'severed penis.'"

Nate blinked. Once. Twice. His brain did an awkward stutter trying to process the words. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "Did you just say,"

"Severed," Derek repeated, his tone maddeningly casual. "As in completely detached."

"Oh my god." Nate murmured.

Derek nodded, " I know, right?" He began, animatedly recalling his day. "There was it came in with a female patient. So we believe, she cut off his penis in self defence" He paused. "The only thing is, we don't have the guy to go with the missing penis. So we have to wait until he magically shows up to reattach it. If we decide to reattach it, that is."

"Fuck," Nate muttered, "The fucking bastard totally deserved it, but good luck trying to find him and then reattach it."

"Come on," Derek said, leaning in slightly, his tone dripping with faux sincerity. "Tell me you're not even a little curious about how I'm going to reattach it."

"I'm not," Nate said firmly.

"You're a neurosurgeon," Derek said, as if that explained everything.

"Exactly," Nate shot back. "I deal with brains. You're dealing with" He gestured vaguely, his voice dropping to a whisper. "that."

Derek tilted his head, clearly amused. "I could use an extra set of hands in the OR."

"Absolutely not," Nate said immediately. "You couldn't pay me to be in that room."

"You're missing out," Derek teased, his grin widening.

"Oh no," Nate said, folding his arms. "I'm devastated. Truly."

Derek chuckled, his laugh soft and rich, and Nate hated how his chest tightened in response.

"Okay, but seriously," Nate said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "How does something like this even happen?"

"Well," Derek began, clearly gearing up for a story.

"Oh, no," Nate cut him off, holding up both hands. "Nope. Don't answer that. I don't need to know. In fact, I'm begging you not to tell me."

Derek ignored him, of course. "It was a pretty clean cut, actually."

Nate groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "Why do I talk to you? Why?"

"Because you secretly find me charming," Derek said, his voice taking on a playful edge.

"No," Nate said immediately, his tone flat.

"You laughed," Derek pointed out.

"That wasn't laughter; that was despair," Nate replied.

"Call it what you want," Derek said, smirking.

Nate rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're insufferable."

"And yet, here we are," Derek quipped.

Nate opened his mouth to respond, but Derek's pager went off, cutting him off mid-thought.

As Derek disappeared down the hall, Nate leaned back against the wall, exhaling a laugh he hadn't realized he was holding.

It was just like Derek to walk into a room and turn his day completely upside down. And it was just like Nate to let him.

The hallway outside the supply closet was quieter than it had been all day, a rare lull in Seattle Grace's relentless chaos. Nate Mercer had slipped away between consults, intent on grabbing a sterile gown and some brief solace from the hospital's unrelenting pace. His Vestibular Schwannoma surgery was in thirty five minutes, and he'd barely had time to breathe, let alone eat. He nudged the supply closet door open with his shoulder, his focus entirely on the patient chart in his hands.

At first, he didn't notice her. She was hunched over near the shelves, tucked into the shadows like she was trying to disappear. It wasn't until he heard the faint clink of glass against metal that he glanced up, his eyes narrowing.

There, standing in front of a shelf packed with sterile bandages and medical supplies, was Izzie Stevens. She was stuffing items into the oversized pockets of her scrubs, her movements frantic and clumsy. When she realized someone else had entered, she froze like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uh," Nate began, his brow furrowing as he took in the scene. "What are you doing?"

Izzie's head snapped up, her face instantly draining of color. "Dr. Mercer!" she stammered, the words barely more than a squeak. She clutched at the front of her scrubs like she could somehow hide what she was doing.

Nate stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. "You know," he said, his voice even but laced with curiosity, "If you're going to rob the supply closet, you might want to be a little less obvious about it."

"I'm not robbing it!" she protested, though her panicked expression and the pile of gauze packets spilling out of her pocket said otherwise.

"Really?" Nate drawled, raising an eyebrow. He gestured to her bulging pockets. "Because it sure looks like you're about to start your own underground medical clinic."

Izzie groaned, covering her face with one hand. "It's not what it looks like," she mumbled.

"Then what is it?" Nate asked, crossing his arms. His tone was still light, but there was an edge of genuine curiosity now.

Izzie hesitated, glancing toward the door like she was calculating whether she could make a run for it. But then she sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of whatever she was hiding had finally become too much. "It's complicated," she said weakly.

"Try me," Nate replied, leaning against the nearest shelf.

She hesitated for a moment longer, clearly torn, but then the words came tumbling out all at once. "There's this woman Mrs. Lu. She was in the pit earlier on today, she had a cut on her arm, so I sutured it. She didn't speak English but she was trying to tell me something, she left, but..."

"But?" Nate prompted, his expression softening.

"I knew something was up, so I followed her to this old junkyard and there was this girl there and she refused to go to the hospital, and I panicked, so I'm bringing some supplies to her.," Izzie admitted, her voice tight with frustration and worry. "She's adamant on staying outside and not being at the hospital, even though the she needs stitches and needs to be in hospital. She kept saying she couldn't risk it, that someone might call immigration."

Nate's brows furrowed. "Immigration?"

Izzie nodded, the words spilling out faster now. "She's undocumented. She didn't say it outright, but it was obvious. She's terrified, Dr. Mercer. She didn't even want to give her name. She's Mrs Lu's daughter," She trailed off, shaking her head.

"And what?" Nate asked, his curiosity piqued.

"She's so worried about her," Izzie admitted. "The cut on the girls head is nasty and definitely needs medical attention, so since she doesn't want to go to the hospital I'd thought I'd just get some supplies, because I don't want the injury to get infected."

Nate frowned, processing her words. "And the supplies are just for her?" he asked after a beat.

"They're both still outside," Izzie said quietly. "I promised them I'd get some supplies and come back to them."

Nate exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting from Izzie to the supplies in her pockets. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, his expression unreadable. Izzie fidgeted under his scrutiny, her hands twisting nervously in the fabric of her scrub top.

"I know it's wrong," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know I could get fired, and so could you if you don't report me. But I couldn't just walk away. She's not some criminal. She's just a mother trying to help someone she cares about."

Nate looked at her for a moment longer, his dark eyes searching hers. Finally, he let out a soft, resigned chuckle. "You're something else, Stevens," he said, shaking his head.

Izzie blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?"

"I mean, you're breaking about a dozen hospital rules," Nate said, his tone light and teasing, "but your heart's in the right place. You're not exactly subtle about it, though."

She stared at him, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't decide whether to defend herself or thank him. "So... you're not going to report me?" she asked cautiously.

Nate sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "No," he said finally. "I'm not going to report you."

Relief flooded her face so quickly it was almost comical. "Thank you," she said, her voice breathless.

"Don't thank me yet," Nate replied, his smirk fading into something more serious. "Just be careful, okay? And maybe think twice before raiding the supply closet next time."

"I will," Izzie promised quickly. "I swear."

Nate stepped aside, gesturing toward the door. "Go," he said, his voice softer now. "Before someone else catches you."

She nodded, clutching the supplies like they were her lifeline. But just as she reached the door, she paused, turning back to look at him. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Why not report me?"

"Because, This is not something worth losing your career over. Your hearts in the right place and you were technically helping a patient," Nate offered.

Izzie didn't know what to say to that, so she just nodded, her gratitude written all over her face. "Thank you," she said again, her voice softer this time.

Nate gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Go," he repeated, his tone gentle but firm.

She slipped out into the hallway, disappearing around the corner. Nate stayed behind, leaning against the supply shelf and staring at the door she'd just walked through.

The ICU felt like another world. Too bright, too quiet, every sound amplified against the backdrop of beeping monitors and the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator. Derek Shepherd stood beside their comatose patient, a cup of coffee cooling in his hand as he stared down at her peaceful, unmoving face.

The sound of the door opening pulled his attention away. Nate Mercer entered, his scrubs rumpled but his white coat pristine, an incongruous image of practiced calm. He had the patient's chart in hand, scrolling through it as he approached.

"You've been here all night," Nate noted without looking up, his voice steady but tinged with something softer.

"Didn't want to leave her alone," Derek replied. His tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something heavier, something unspoken.

Nate glanced at him, setting the chart down on the counter. "You know, there's this magical invention called an on call room. Comes with a bed, maybe even a blanket if you're lucky."

Derek smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Thanks for the tip. I'll make a note of that for next time."

Nate leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "Seriously, though. What's keeping you here?"

Derek hesitated, his gaze drifting back to the patient. "She doesn't have anyone," he said quietly.

Nate frowned, his expression softening. "No family?"

Derek shook his head. "None. It's in her chart. No emergency contacts, no one to call. Nothing."

The weight of that revelation settled between them like a stone.

"You know," Derek said after a moment, breaking the silence, "I have four sisters."

Nate's lips quirked into a faint, knowing smile. "Yeah, I remember. All girly, all terrifying in their own way."

Derek chuckled softly. "Exactly. And if something like this ever happened to me, they'd be here. All of them. There wouldn't be enough chairs in this room for all the Shepherds that would show up."

"Bet they'd bring casseroles, too," Nate said, his tone teasing but distant.

"Casseroles," Derek agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Homemade quilts, probably. The works."

Nate looked at him for a long moment, the humor in his expression fading. "Not everyone gets that, you know."

Derek turned to face him fully, his brow furrowing slightly. "Nate"

"No, it's fine," Nate interrupted, his voice steady but quieter now. "I'm just saying, if I were in that bed, no one would show up. No casseroles. No quilts. Just nothing."

The weight of his words hit Derek harder than he expected. "That's not true," he said, his voice low but firm.

Nate scoffed, looking away. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not saying it to make you feel better," Derek replied, his gaze unwavering. "It's the truth. You've got people, Nate. Even if they're not the ones you were born with."

Nate's jaw tightened, his hands clenching slightly where they rested against the counter. He wanted to argue, to brush it off, but the look on Derek's face stopped him. It was the same look Derek used to give him in med school, back when their world was small and complicated and filled with too many secrets.

"You know," Derek said after a moment, his tone lighter, "If it were my sisters, they'd be here whether I wanted them to be or not. Probably fighting over who got to boss the doctors around."

Nate laughed softly, the sound short but genuine. "Sounds about right. Although I'm sure you'd be the one doing the bossing if you could."

Derek smirked. "You know me too well."

"Unfortunately," Nate quipped, but there was no real bite to his words.

They stood in silence for a moment, the air between them heavy but not uncomfortable.

"What about you?" Derek asked suddenly, his voice careful but curious. "If it were your family, would they"

"They wouldn't, Again, it would just be nothing." Nate said quickly, cutting him off. His tone was sharp but not unkind, a reflexive defense more than anything.

Derek hesitated, then nodded slightly. He already knew the answer, but hearing it out loud still made something twist in his chest. "Your parents"

"Stopped talking to me years ago," Nate said bluntly. "When I was around twenty. I guess telling them I was gay wasn't the best move I'd made."

Derek winced, guilt flickering across his face. He knew bits and pieces of the story, fragments of Nate's past that he'd learned in the quiet hours of med school when they were still finding excuses to stay in each other's orbit. But hearing it now, so plainly, still hurt.

"I'm sorry," Derek said softly.

Nate shrugged, forcing a small, bitter smile. "Don't be. It's not like you're the one who disowned me."

Derek didn't respond right away, his gaze steady as he studied Nate's face. "You didn't deserve that, you don't deserve that," he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

Nate looked away, his throat tightening. He hated how easily Derek could still get under his skin, how effortlessly he could crack through the walls Nate had spent years building.

"Anyway," Nate said, clearing his throat and forcing a change in topic. "What's the plan for your patient?"

Derek didn't push further, sensing the shift in Nate's demeanor. "We wait," he said simply. "And we hope. And we keep doing everything we can to bring her back."

Nate nodded, his gaze lingering on the patient for a moment before he pushed off the counter. "Well," he said, his tone lighter now, "If you need me, I'll be around."

Derek watched him go, the echo of their conversation lingering in the room long after Nate was gone.

AUTHORS NOTE !

chapter two is here!!!! i just had to add nate to the elevator scene, and i wanted to add him at least some way! and you've also got a look into nate's backstory! i actually love nate & derek so much! they're my loves <3

ALSO, since everyone has a favourite intern, izzie is nate's favourite intern! (she's also my favourite intern at my current rewatch)

i never really know what to put for authors notes but thank you for reading if you have <3