The elevator doors slid open, and Mark stepped inside, barely glancing up from his phone. His scrubs were slightly wrinkled-long shift, longer night-but he still looked every bit like the confident surgeon Seattle Grace knew him to be. He leaned back against the railing, exhaling slowly, then finally looked up.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his gaze settled on them. “Well, look who it is,” he drawled, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to run into you tonight.” His voice was low, teasing, but there was warmth underneath.

His eyes flicked over them, taking in the way exhaustion lingered in their posture. “Rough shift?” he guessed. “Or are you just trying to match my level of sleep deprivation?” There was a pause, and then his smirk softened into something almost fond.

He reached out, fingers brushing against the sleeve of their coat. It was small, barely even a touch, but deliberate. “You know,” he mused, tilting his head, “we could both pretend we’re responsible adults and actually go home to sleep. Or-“ His smirk widened. “We could do something a little more fun with the few brain cells we have left.”