Missing Ingredient: Grey's Anatomy
Title: Missing Ingredient
Author: blueeyelinerx
Rating: PG-13 (language, sexual situations?)
Word Count: 1835
Pairing/Character: Alex/Izzie
Summary: He thought medical school was the hardest thing he would ever do, with new medical jargon and measurements and millions of diseases to learn. Baking is not different, he is learning, as he frowns at the rows and rows of ingredients in front of him.
Spoilers/Warnings: Just up until 2x12. Oh, and it's really cheesy. Sorry ;)
The little old lady to Alex’s left is talking to herself.
Actually, no, that isn’t true. She occasionally squints at a piece of paper in her hand, mumbles a few words to herself, and frowns at the dozens of items in front of her. Grocery shopping is tedious work, Alex sympathizes to himself, but he refrains from saying anything because he isn’t quite sure the little old lady isn’t crazy.
“It’s funny how some things happen, isn’t it?”
Alex slides a long glance at the woman, unsure if she is just speaking or if that was a comment directed towards her. The little old lady, with tightly curled white hair and wrinkly skin, stares back at him. Her skin, upon further inspection, has a certain worn and weathered quality to it, the way a bracelet clasp can become after years of handling. Her watery blue eyes are magnified by the large reading glasses she wears and slowly, her lipstick pink-stained mouth curves into a bashful smile.
“I spoke out loud again, didn’t I?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from years of cigarette smoking and holds a bit of an East Coast accent.
“Yes,” says Alex, relieved that she isn’t an outright crazy. He just ended a hellish shift and crazy old ladies grocery shopping are not on his list of people he wants to deal with right now.
“I’m sorry,” the elderly woman says. “I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Never have. You’d think after almost 75 years of thinking out loud, you’d be able to control it but I haven’t been able to yet ” She shook her head. “Anyway, I was just thinking about the recipe you’re holding in your hands. It was my husband’s favorite, god rest his soul. He used to make those cookies every single Christmas Eve, starting when our children were small and continuing until he died six years ago. They were the cookies we left out for Santa. I can’t cook worth a damn, so poor Santa gets store bought cookies now. It’s just very odd seeing that recipe again after all these years ... and on Christmas Eve.”
“That is a strange coincidence ma’am,” Alex says politely, his midwestern manners kicking in. He shifts slightly and inches his way towards the end of the aisle in a subtle attempt to end the conversation but has no luck.
“Are you a baker yourself young man?”
“Me? Oh no. I’m just like you - can’t cook worth a damn.”
“Then why are you standing in the baked goods aisle, with a recipe in one hand and an empty handbasket in the other? Are you lost?”
Alex groans inwardly. The old lady is sweet but he doesn’t want the Spanish Inquisition from her. “No, I’m just picking up some things for a friend.”
The elderly lady nods sagely and pushes her cart around the corner. “I’m Kay,” she says as she passes him. “And whatever you did, I hope you plan on getting more than baking ingredients for her.”
Alex’s head snaps up at that comment but Kay is gone. Because, the fact is, Alex hates to admit he is wrong.
Which doesn’t quite explain what he is doing in the baking goods section of the grocery store, talking to old ladies named Kay but maybe it comes close.
Alex stares at the spot where Kay stood for a beat more before returning his focus to the recipe in his hand. He feels more disheartened and confused than he did before Kay spoke out loud, even though he understands the recipe the exact same amount - not at all. He feels vaguely like he is lost in a foreign country with no translator. He thought medical school was the hardest thing he would ever do, with new medical jargon and measurements and millions of diseases to learn. Baking is not different, he is learning, as he frowns at the rows and rows of ingredients in front of him.
He is about to give up and say fuck it when an image of Izzie flashes into his head. Not Izzie when she is laughing at him or when she is advising a patient or scrubbing in on a procedure, but a freeze frame of when she helped him prepare for his boards. He can see clearly her long blonde hair swept back into a no-nonsense ponytail and her eyes, big and blue and wide. The worst part of all is the tears. The big crystalline tears roll down her cheeks maddeningly slow, like the torturous drip drip drip of a leaky faucet in the middle of the night when turning it off requires leaving your warm covers and putting your bare feet on cold wood floors. And Alex can hear her explaining “it’s a symptom” but her tone and her body and her entire being is saying “fuck off, I hate you”. He closes his eyes and savors the image because he can remember thinking that, in that exact moment, Izzie is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
There are so many things he needs to say to Izzie, things like I’m a horrible person and you deserve better than me and I’m sorry. Especially I’m sorry. Which is why he had Meredith steal a copy of her favorite recipe and why he is standing in front of 40 different kinds of flour and sugar. Because Alex cannot say the words out loud - that would be admitting he was wrong. So he lets his actions speak louder than his words - because, after all, that is how he got into this mess.
*
Alex ends up in the check-out line behind Kay, of course. She smiles at him when she sees him and offers him a piece of gum. He takes it because he, as a rule, never turns down free gum and waits for the questions to start again.
“Do you have a job young man?”
Alex blinks for a moment in surprise. “I’m a surgical intern at Seattle Grace Hospital.”
“So you’re smart.” It isn’t a question.
Alex shrugs. There are some days when he feels like the dumbest person on the planet. Days when he does stuff like have sex with Olivia in the hospital while Izzie is working.
“Well, even if buying ingredients isn’t the cure all for whatever you did, it’s a start. And most men can’t even realize that.”
Alex thinks that if he didn’t realize he needed to do something to apologize to Izzie, then he should probably never, ever step foot into the hospital as an intern again. He doesn’t say anything to Kay though.
“You’re missing an ingredient though.”
“I am?” asks Alex with a hint of panic in his voice. He whips the recipe out of his pocket and frantically reads over the ingredients. He’s pretty sure he has them all...
Kay is loading her groceries into her cart and placing her reciept neatly into her purse when Alex finishes cross referencing. “Your cookies won’t be perfect without it. But you’re a smart boy,” she tells him as she walks away. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
It takes Alex two burned batches, 1 ½ of flour, and nearly three hours before he realizes what Kay is talking about.
*
He bangs on the glass door until a light comes on in the hallway upstairs and Alex can see a shadow coming down the stairs. His luck is turning because it is Izzie who comes to the door. He can see the outline of her nipples through the fitted grey t-shirt she is wearing and her hip bones protrude from above her athletic pants. He thinks of his 4th grade homeroom teacher and of baseball statistics and how to change a car’s oil so he will not be turned on.
It doesn’t work.
Izzie yawns and snaps, “What are you doing here?” Alex wordlessly holds up the grocery bag of ingredients and pushes his way past Izzie into the dark living room and into the equally as dark kitchen.
“Come with me,” he whispers over his shoulder and fumbles for the light switch.
Izzie sits on a bar stool in the kitchen and crosses her arms across her chest in a poor attempt to cover herself up. Alex bits back the hundreds of witty comments that come to mind and carefully extracts the things from the grocery bag.
“I made a friend at the grocery store today,” he begins as he puts the ingredients in front of her. “Her name was Kay and she was 75 years old. We met in the baked goods aisle. I was holding your recipe in my hand and she peaked at it. Turns out her husband, before he died, used to make these cookies every Christmas Eve with their kids and then they would leave them out for Santa.”
Izzie’s frown has subsided and she looks curious now more than angry. She is a sucker for a good Christmas story and Alex’s has sucked her in. Alex pushes the feeling of panic down and continues his story as he looks in the cupboards for baking tools. “I originally wanted to make you your favorite cookies from scratch and give them to you as a Christmas present. But it turns out that I know nothing about cooking. And Kay’s story got me thinking. Half the fun of making cookies is the time you spend with someone while you’re mixing the ingredients. So I know it’s late and I know you’re mad at me but I was sort of hoping we could make these cookies together. It’ll be fun and ... I’ll get to spend some time with you.”
Alex ducks his head and avoids looking at Izzie so he misses how her face softens at his words. She clears her throat after a few seconds and whispers, “Yeah, ok.”
Alex smiles. “Thanks,” he says, knowing that Izzie has just accepted his lame apology. He still has a lot of making up to do and this isn’t even a very strong start but it’s something.
Kay’s words float back to him. You’re missing an ingredient.
“She was right,” Alex remarks as he watches Izzie switch into baking mode. She pulls out an apron and puts it on.
“What did you say?”
“Kay. At the grocery store. Before I said goodbye to her, she told me that I was still missing an ingredient. And that my cookies wouldn’t be perfect until I found it,” Alex explains.
Izzie knits her brows, not following him. “What was it?”
He leans forward. “You,” he whispers before placing a feather-light kiss on her lips. He pulls back after a few agonizing seconds and this time he doesn’t miss the way Izzie’s eyes flutter open, dazed and cobalt blue.
She looks at him, long and hard before smiling. “Nice line Dr. Evil Spawn,” she teases.
“It wasn’t a line, Dr. Model,” Alex smiles back.
And in that moment, he knows everything is going to be all right.
Author: blueeyelinerx
Rating: PG-13 (language, sexual situations?)
Word Count: 1835
Pairing/Character: Alex/Izzie
Summary: He thought medical school was the hardest thing he would ever do, with new medical jargon and measurements and millions of diseases to learn. Baking is not different, he is learning, as he frowns at the rows and rows of ingredients in front of him.
Spoilers/Warnings: Just up until 2x12. Oh, and it's really cheesy. Sorry ;)
The little old lady to Alex’s left is talking to herself.
Actually, no, that isn’t true. She occasionally squints at a piece of paper in her hand, mumbles a few words to herself, and frowns at the dozens of items in front of her. Grocery shopping is tedious work, Alex sympathizes to himself, but he refrains from saying anything because he isn’t quite sure the little old lady isn’t crazy.
“It’s funny how some things happen, isn’t it?”
Alex slides a long glance at the woman, unsure if she is just speaking or if that was a comment directed towards her. The little old lady, with tightly curled white hair and wrinkly skin, stares back at him. Her skin, upon further inspection, has a certain worn and weathered quality to it, the way a bracelet clasp can become after years of handling. Her watery blue eyes are magnified by the large reading glasses she wears and slowly, her lipstick pink-stained mouth curves into a bashful smile.
“I spoke out loud again, didn’t I?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from years of cigarette smoking and holds a bit of an East Coast accent.
“Yes,” says Alex, relieved that she isn’t an outright crazy. He just ended a hellish shift and crazy old ladies grocery shopping are not on his list of people he wants to deal with right now.
“I’m sorry,” the elderly woman says. “I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Never have. You’d think after almost 75 years of thinking out loud, you’d be able to control it but I haven’t been able to yet ” She shook her head. “Anyway, I was just thinking about the recipe you’re holding in your hands. It was my husband’s favorite, god rest his soul. He used to make those cookies every single Christmas Eve, starting when our children were small and continuing until he died six years ago. They were the cookies we left out for Santa. I can’t cook worth a damn, so poor Santa gets store bought cookies now. It’s just very odd seeing that recipe again after all these years ... and on Christmas Eve.”
“That is a strange coincidence ma’am,” Alex says politely, his midwestern manners kicking in. He shifts slightly and inches his way towards the end of the aisle in a subtle attempt to end the conversation but has no luck.
“Are you a baker yourself young man?”
“Me? Oh no. I’m just like you - can’t cook worth a damn.”
“Then why are you standing in the baked goods aisle, with a recipe in one hand and an empty handbasket in the other? Are you lost?”
Alex groans inwardly. The old lady is sweet but he doesn’t want the Spanish Inquisition from her. “No, I’m just picking up some things for a friend.”
The elderly lady nods sagely and pushes her cart around the corner. “I’m Kay,” she says as she passes him. “And whatever you did, I hope you plan on getting more than baking ingredients for her.”
Alex’s head snaps up at that comment but Kay is gone. Because, the fact is, Alex hates to admit he is wrong.
Which doesn’t quite explain what he is doing in the baking goods section of the grocery store, talking to old ladies named Kay but maybe it comes close.
Alex stares at the spot where Kay stood for a beat more before returning his focus to the recipe in his hand. He feels more disheartened and confused than he did before Kay spoke out loud, even though he understands the recipe the exact same amount - not at all. He feels vaguely like he is lost in a foreign country with no translator. He thought medical school was the hardest thing he would ever do, with new medical jargon and measurements and millions of diseases to learn. Baking is not different, he is learning, as he frowns at the rows and rows of ingredients in front of him.
He is about to give up and say fuck it when an image of Izzie flashes into his head. Not Izzie when she is laughing at him or when she is advising a patient or scrubbing in on a procedure, but a freeze frame of when she helped him prepare for his boards. He can see clearly her long blonde hair swept back into a no-nonsense ponytail and her eyes, big and blue and wide. The worst part of all is the tears. The big crystalline tears roll down her cheeks maddeningly slow, like the torturous drip drip drip of a leaky faucet in the middle of the night when turning it off requires leaving your warm covers and putting your bare feet on cold wood floors. And Alex can hear her explaining “it’s a symptom” but her tone and her body and her entire being is saying “fuck off, I hate you”. He closes his eyes and savors the image because he can remember thinking that, in that exact moment, Izzie is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
There are so many things he needs to say to Izzie, things like I’m a horrible person and you deserve better than me and I’m sorry. Especially I’m sorry. Which is why he had Meredith steal a copy of her favorite recipe and why he is standing in front of 40 different kinds of flour and sugar. Because Alex cannot say the words out loud - that would be admitting he was wrong. So he lets his actions speak louder than his words - because, after all, that is how he got into this mess.
*
Alex ends up in the check-out line behind Kay, of course. She smiles at him when she sees him and offers him a piece of gum. He takes it because he, as a rule, never turns down free gum and waits for the questions to start again.
“Do you have a job young man?”
Alex blinks for a moment in surprise. “I’m a surgical intern at Seattle Grace Hospital.”
“So you’re smart.” It isn’t a question.
Alex shrugs. There are some days when he feels like the dumbest person on the planet. Days when he does stuff like have sex with Olivia in the hospital while Izzie is working.
“Well, even if buying ingredients isn’t the cure all for whatever you did, it’s a start. And most men can’t even realize that.”
Alex thinks that if he didn’t realize he needed to do something to apologize to Izzie, then he should probably never, ever step foot into the hospital as an intern again. He doesn’t say anything to Kay though.
“You’re missing an ingredient though.”
“I am?” asks Alex with a hint of panic in his voice. He whips the recipe out of his pocket and frantically reads over the ingredients. He’s pretty sure he has them all...
Kay is loading her groceries into her cart and placing her reciept neatly into her purse when Alex finishes cross referencing. “Your cookies won’t be perfect without it. But you’re a smart boy,” she tells him as she walks away. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
It takes Alex two burned batches, 1 ½ of flour, and nearly three hours before he realizes what Kay is talking about.
*
He bangs on the glass door until a light comes on in the hallway upstairs and Alex can see a shadow coming down the stairs. His luck is turning because it is Izzie who comes to the door. He can see the outline of her nipples through the fitted grey t-shirt she is wearing and her hip bones protrude from above her athletic pants. He thinks of his 4th grade homeroom teacher and of baseball statistics and how to change a car’s oil so he will not be turned on.
It doesn’t work.
Izzie yawns and snaps, “What are you doing here?” Alex wordlessly holds up the grocery bag of ingredients and pushes his way past Izzie into the dark living room and into the equally as dark kitchen.
“Come with me,” he whispers over his shoulder and fumbles for the light switch.
Izzie sits on a bar stool in the kitchen and crosses her arms across her chest in a poor attempt to cover herself up. Alex bits back the hundreds of witty comments that come to mind and carefully extracts the things from the grocery bag.
“I made a friend at the grocery store today,” he begins as he puts the ingredients in front of her. “Her name was Kay and she was 75 years old. We met in the baked goods aisle. I was holding your recipe in my hand and she peaked at it. Turns out her husband, before he died, used to make these cookies every Christmas Eve with their kids and then they would leave them out for Santa.”
Izzie’s frown has subsided and she looks curious now more than angry. She is a sucker for a good Christmas story and Alex’s has sucked her in. Alex pushes the feeling of panic down and continues his story as he looks in the cupboards for baking tools. “I originally wanted to make you your favorite cookies from scratch and give them to you as a Christmas present. But it turns out that I know nothing about cooking. And Kay’s story got me thinking. Half the fun of making cookies is the time you spend with someone while you’re mixing the ingredients. So I know it’s late and I know you’re mad at me but I was sort of hoping we could make these cookies together. It’ll be fun and ... I’ll get to spend some time with you.”
Alex ducks his head and avoids looking at Izzie so he misses how her face softens at his words. She clears her throat after a few seconds and whispers, “Yeah, ok.”
Alex smiles. “Thanks,” he says, knowing that Izzie has just accepted his lame apology. He still has a lot of making up to do and this isn’t even a very strong start but it’s something.
Kay’s words float back to him. You’re missing an ingredient.
“She was right,” Alex remarks as he watches Izzie switch into baking mode. She pulls out an apron and puts it on.
“What did you say?”
“Kay. At the grocery store. Before I said goodbye to her, she told me that I was still missing an ingredient. And that my cookies wouldn’t be perfect until I found it,” Alex explains.
Izzie knits her brows, not following him. “What was it?”
He leans forward. “You,” he whispers before placing a feather-light kiss on her lips. He pulls back after a few agonizing seconds and this time he doesn’t miss the way Izzie’s eyes flutter open, dazed and cobalt blue.
She looks at him, long and hard before smiling. “Nice line Dr. Evil Spawn,” she teases.
“It wasn’t a line, Dr. Model,” Alex smiles back.
And in that moment, he knows everything is going to be all right.