Disclaimer: I do not own, nor have any affiliation with, Grey's Anatomy, ABC, or Shonda Rhimes.

Meredith groaned as the light filtering through her eyelids became too bright to ignore. She blinked, blearily, and had to bite back a whimper when she moved her head.

"No more tequila," she muttered. "No more sleeping on couches; especially not before work…first day of work…crap."

That was when she noticed what she was wearing, or rather, what she wasn't wearing. It was to be expected, for her, that if tequila was involved, so was a man. Tequila made everyone and everything seem kind of porny.

'Definitely a man,' she thought as her body became aware enough to recognize the dull ache between her thighs. 'Yep, sex. Lots of sex.'

She tried to cast her mind back to the night before, lifting a slender hand to massage her left temple. A few memories filtered through the haze; there had been a mixer, that boring party for the interns. She had left that scene as soon as she could, hoping to escape talking to Dr. Webber. Then there had been the bar across the street, nice and cozy, and that had been where the tequila entered the picture; many, many shots of tequila. And then some hot man…who must still be here.

She shifted her head on the couch and saw the naked man lying on her floor. 'Yep, still here.'

Noticing the clock on the mantle, she cursed and sat up. She pulled the blanket off the unknown man, pausing only a second to enjoy her last glimpse of his sculpted ass before dropping a pillow onto it to shield it from her gaze. He grunted and shifted slightly.

Meredith wrapped herself in the blanket, and gave the man a quick poke with her toe.

"You have to go."

His eyes open, eyelashes fluttering as he attempts to clear the haze obscuring the blue. The low groan escaping from his throat announces that he too is feeling the after effects of too much alcohol; scotch, in his case.

"This is…" He starts, passing a black lacy bra up to Meredith.

"Humiliating on so many levels," she confirms, snatching the bra from his grip. "Again, you have to go."

"Why don't you just come back down here and we'll pick up where we left off?" He smirks, obviously recovering enough to hope for more sex.

"No, seriously. You have to go. I'm late. Which isn't what you want to be on your first day of work. So…" Meredith cuts off, hoping he will get the hint and leave. Luckily, he seems to understand that she's serious, and begins to dress.

"So…nice place," he says, the smirk back in full force. "Dusty though. You just move in?" The smirk gets even more pronounced as he continues, "you know, we didn't even make it past the front room; must have been pretty eager last night. You could give me a tour of the rest of the house. I do great work on all surfaces and furniture."

"I moved two weeks ago from Boston. I was my mother's house. I'm selling it." Meredith shook her head, trying to focus her still fuzzy brain. "You know what, nevermind, we don't need to exchange the details. I'm not interested in your work anywhere else."

She sighed, and began her usual line for getting rid of her one night stands, "look, I'm going to go upstairs and take a shower. Okay? And when I get back down here, you won't be here. So…um….goodbye…ummm"

The man looks up as he buttons up his shirt, a little shocked at his abrupt dismissal. The corner of his mouth creeps up as he realizes this girl might have more in common with him than just the night they had shared before. He had delivered a similar line many times in the past.

Finally realizing that she was struggling to remember his name, he extended a hand, his steamiest look in full force, "Mark."

"Mark. Right. Meredith." She smiles awkwardly, shaking his hand.

"Meredith," he repeated.

"Yeah," she exhaled, releasing his hand to give a quick wave before dashing up a cluttered staircase.

"Nice meeting you, Meredith," he muttered before exiting the house.