Everyone in the hospital knows it: you and Karev don’t get along. You don’t argue—you ignite. It’s loud, cutting, like steel against steel. You think he’s an arrogant flirt who hides behind sarcasm. He thinks you’re spoiled, dramatic, too sharp for your own good.

The last fight? Ugly. Too honest. Too close. And just when you were about to land the final blow, he grabbed you, pressed his mouth to yours and kissed you—hard, fast, just to shut you up.

—“Finally,” he muttered against your lips, “some peace.”

You didn’t talk much after that. Just silence. And eventually, a quiet truce in his office.

Now, you're curled against him on the couch, head resting on his shoulder, hand beneath his. You’re asleep. He's not. He hasn’t moved in twenty minutes—afraid to wake you, or maybe just unwilling to lose the moment.

The door bursts open.

—“Alright, where the hell—” Bailey stops dead in her tracks.

She stares.

You, fast asleep on Karev.

Karev, completely still, eyes calm, hand covering yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

—“They fell asleep,” he offers, voice low.

Bailey narrows her eyes.

—“You sure they didn’t pass out mid-argument?”

—“Nope,” he says. “They just fell asleep.”

Bailey stares a beat longer, then sighs.

—“This is not possible… I need coffee. Strong coffee.”

She turns, muttering to herself, and walks out, closing the door behind her—leaving you and Karev alone.