౨ৎ in which aliya levine enters her third year of surgical residency with overbearing parents, an ex who left her heartbroken, a green eyed rich boy, a chaotic best friend and a pair of twisted sisters.
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chapter six━new history season six, episode nine
❝ i'm sure that's going to work out well for you. ❞
⠀ ⠀ ⠀
seven months ago
The alarm clock buzzed it's annoying wake up call from the bedside table. They completely forgot to draw the curtains before they drifted off to sleep, meaning that early morning light shined through the windows blindingly.
Aliya groaned into Mark's chest where her head was led upon, one hand slumped across his stomach.
Mark yawned awake, his hand remaining around Aliya's shoulders as he used his other hand to slam a button on the top of the alarm clock. "Shut up." He mumbled to it, returning his head back to the cushions. "We could just stay in bed all day." He told the brunette, whispering the words into her forehead where his lips brushed against.
"Sounds like a great plan." Aliya replied, nestling closer into him in a tangle of limbs.
"I'm glad you agree." He smirked, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"Do you remember that lecturer at Columbia? Dr. Asher Armstrong." Aliya asked, her voice soft as she spoke into his shirt.
"Ash-hole!" Mark said, as enthusiastically as he could, his hand tracing circles on her back. "How could I forget?"
The Levine woman smiled fondly, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. "Do you remember when he kept saying that time was just a construct, and if you wanted you could stop it at will."
"The guy was going through a divorce—" His hand brushed up her back, reaching her hair where he began to twist her brunette strands of hair which to him smelled like the rose conditioner she always used. "He was going mad. He put orange juice on his cereal and salt in his coffee."
"My point is—" Talking through her laughter, Aliya leaned closer toward him. "Technically we could stay here all day, he may have been crazy but, he was very wise. How are we to know any better?"
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Mark held her by the waist, flipping her onto her back in one swift movement. "I guess we have ash-hole to thank."
"I think he's dead now." Aliya told the Sloan man, who was kissing a trail along her jawline.
"Aliya," He murmured in between kisses. "Please don't mention dead people."
