TRIAGE | grey's anatomy (ON HOLD INDEFINITELY)

020: "happy together"

CLEMENTINE DIDN'T NECESSARILY HAVE ANY EXPECTATIONS FROM HER MORNING, BUT HEARING THE WORDS "I'VE BEEN SLEEPING WITH MARK SLOAN" FROM ONE OF HER CLOSEST FRIENDS CERTAINLY WAS NOT ON THE AGENDA. The words themselves weren't necessarily a surprise; she was sure hundreds of different people had heard them friends or coworkers or family members or spouses. It wasn't an unlikely thing for someone to have slept with Mark Sloan. If you were vaguely involved in the medical scene in New York and between the ages of eighteen and fifty, chances were you at least knew someone who'd spent a memorable night in the Sloan bedroom. But it was the woman who said it, with a scandalized look on her face and a vaguely frightened whisper, that threw Clem for a loop.

She schooled her face to neutral and leaned close to Callie, who looked like she'd just leaked the nuclear launch codes. "Okay, then. When?"

"Last night. And the night before," Callie winced. "And, uh, the night before that. For about a week or so. Intermittently."

Clem raised an eyebrow briefly, turning to flip through the stack of admitted patient charts Lynn had handed her once she'd entered the Pit after rounds. "And you're telling me because... you have feelings about this?"

Callie laughed nervously. "Well, not about Sloan, obviously. He's like a walking chew toy and I'm an excited little puppy. You love to squeak it, but when the squeaky part stops working so does your interest."

"So the squeaky part is the sex and the rest of the toy is his personality?" Clem guessed, trying not to laugh at her friend's earnest metaphor. She wondered briefly if Mark knew people likened a night in his bed with chewing on dog toy. "And you do have feelings about this, just not about Sloan."

"Guilt. That's the feeling. Lots and lots of guilt." Callie stole a glance across the room, to where George was snapping gloves on near the bay. Clem followed her gaze.

"Look, Callie, you and George are broken up. There really should be no guilt in your sex life right now," Clem reminded her, internally cringing at even mentioning Mark and Callie having sex, but patting her friend lovingly on the shoulder.

"No George in my sex life," Callie somewhat repeated, almost to herself. "Okay. I can do that."

As if on cue, Lynn approached the two of them. "I was about to page for an ortho consult and an intern, but looks like the two of you are here. Fractured femur and shattered knee cap ETA five minutes. I need Santos on the floor, but she can help get you settled."

Callie, in a quick turn around, was nearly frothing at the mouth when she heard the news, and practically dragged Clem by the ear to the bay where Montgomery and George were already waiting.

"Which makes you hornier," Clem teased, tying the back of her trauma gown with skilled precision. "An oblique fracture or a comminuted one?"

Callie snorted. "Is that a joke? Comminuted, obviously. Shit, I broke my glove. Be right back."

Clem rolled her eyes and joined the two doctors outside, smiling briefly at them. George still looked slightly frustrated with what they'd witnessed that morning. Cristina, who'd been distant and snappy lately, had been writing on the OR board and dictating Burke's schedule like she was the attending and not an intern. Sure, Clem had been vaguely irritated, but it wasn't the end-all be-all. She practically had free reign when it came to picking and choosing which trauma cases she wanted in on.

"Santos," Addison Montgomery said warmly, and she slid next to Clem. "Can I speak to you real quick?"

Clem hesitated briefly, then nodded, squeezing to the side a bit so they could talk. She was rarely on her service and hadn't done anything to piss her off-- at least, she didn't think.