Grey's Anatomy Fic: those anonymous endings
God, I'm never going to catch up. Sorry I'm so slow, guys! I'll get there. I'm having such a blast writing everybody's Advent Calendar requests. This is for mathhhh, who wanted Grey's Anatomy and Mark/Lexie. Happy holidays, lady! ILU. ♥
those anonymous endings
grey’s anatomy ; mark/lexie ; 1,908 words, pg
so this is where they are now. pick your puzzle piece. spoilers for adrift and at peace.
-
Mark draws back, after. They bump knees. A strand of lights comes undone, just under the bar where Mark stands.
“Should fix that,” Joe says, passing. Behind him, the bar starts to get louder. Lexie can’t think. Her fingers flex. They brush over her mouth and when she shift forward, half into Mark, more of the lights seem to sag into the floor. They stare at each other, and Mark’s mouth quirks; she shakes her head, dropping her hand back at her chest. Her heart is pounding in her ears.
“Okay?” Mark asks, and he’s watching her, waiting. She takes a slow step back and her hands curl at her sides.
“Fine,” she breathes. She shakes her head again. “Fine, great, okay. I’m okay. It’s all okay - I -”
“We should go,” he finishes.
The bar erupts in a mix of laughter, set to another round of Christmas songs that have interns and residents mixing with a couple of beers. Joe passes them again and winks at Lexie, making a hand at the lights that have now sunk to draping lazily over a stool and the rest of the floor.
Lexie manages to nod. “Yeah, okay.”
It’s a distant memory, what happened after the shooting, what happened to her, where Mark was, and where she was. There are parts of it that she still hasn’t been able to touch and there, in the middle of Joe’s, it almost touches her all over again.
Mark is there. Things are still different.
They find Callie sitting outside the apartment door, legs outstretched and an unopened bottle of wine by her hip.
“Little Grey!” she greets, and Mark groans softly, moving in front of Lexie. “And Mark! Mark, who isn’t Arizona, who isn’t Mark who may or may not have left his keys on his way out to seduce you with alcohol and his witty charm, Little Grey.”
“Good to know,” Lexie murmurs.
She flashes an awkward smile at the other woman too. Mark moves to Callie as well, reaching for her arm to help her up. Callie jerks herself away though and shakes her head.
“Not drunk,” she says. “Not yet,” she says too. “And as much as I would like to be, it’s probably not going to happen. What you can do is head on inside and make Mark here a more agreeable roommate or something, ‘cause I’d like to surround myself with good, agreeable people.”
Mark shrugs when Lexie looks at him. He tosses her his keys too and she grabs them, nodding absently and stepping into the apartment. Behind her, she can hear him start talking to Callie and she shuts the door carefully, giving the two of them the time.
It’s still Mark inside, more of Mark than Callie and she’s not entirely sure how long the two of them have been living together again. There are pots and pans scattered over the kitchen stove and a wrap draped over the back of one the bar stools.
Lexie’s arms cross at her chest and she rubs them through her jacket, looking around and trying not to think about what just happened, and then what happened again. Her teeth pick at her lips. She doesn’t like them. She can still taste Mark’s drink.
When the door opens, she whirls around and it’s just Mark, shrugging out of his jacket. He tosses it to the side. “She needs a minute,” he tells her and pushes up his sleeves. “Gotta give it to her, you know?”
“Yeah, sure,” Lexie says.
They stare at each other and Mark’s mouth turns. He steps forward too, closer and then over her, his hand dropping to her shoulder. His fingers curl at the collar of her jacket and slowly pushes it back.
“You kissed me,” she blurts, and it’s a good thing, she thinks, that she can back with him and he didn’t come back with her, home, to Meredith’s, because that’s an entirely new kind of territory she’s not ready for. So she says it again, “you kissed me and I -”
“Kissed me back,” he supplies.
“I know,” she breathes.
She’s wide-eyed again and he’s pulled her jacket off, tossing it over his. They drape over another bar stool and Mark takes her hand, tugging her away from the kitchen. His hand is warm. When his fingers lace through hers, she feels them sweep against the back of her hand.
It shouldn’t be this easy, she thinks. And when they get to his room, she thinks it again: it shouldn’t be this easy.
“Why now?” she asks, and he kicks the door behind her shut, drawing his hands back over her shoulders. She looks up to face him and his gaze softens, his mouth relaxing. “I mean,” she says. “Let’s pretend things didn’t happen the way they did, that you’re still - ” she cuts herself off, and Mark’s smiling. “Stop it,” she mutters.
“We don’t need to talk, Lex.”
“Seriously?” she asks.
“Lex,” he murmurs again, and then laughs, shaking his head.
This is easy. His hands rise to frame her face. He leans in and brushes his mouth over hers, and Lexie finds herself leaning back into him. She can feel his mouth turn against hers and she sighs, just slightly, as she lets herself kiss him again.
Her mouth is soft, softer as she turns herself into him. Her fingers start to slide over his shoulder, drawing down along his back. He makes this sound, low and slick, a hot brush of air that sinks back into her. It's a terrible idea, she thinks. A terrible, terrible idea.
Mark pulls back again, first, as if to catch her just in case. Her eyes open and her lips tug into a small smile.
"You win," she says, and her hand drops back against his chest. Her fingers wrap into a fist and she punches him lightly. "I kissed you back," she says.
"Because I'm serious," he tells her.
"Sure."
He laughs. He shakes his head too, sobering for a moment. He looks at her, gaze heavy, just like that first time at Joe's. Her breath catches and there are knots, tiny butterflies circling inside of her. It's the strangest of feelings; almost like that first time, the first time she kissed him way back then, but something entirely different all the same. A part of her doesn't know
how to take it.
"You make me crazy," she murmurs. She laughs a little, looking down. Her hands press against her face. "Oh, Mark. You really, really make me crazy and it's like if I even try and think rationally about how crazy you really make me, it just makes me crazier."
She looks up at him, and he leans in, brushing his mouth against her forehead. They're quiet, for moment, and outside the room, they can hear Callie in the kitchen. A door opens and slams. There are pots being smacked onto the stove and against her, Mark sighs.
"Go," Lexie murmurs. She steps back, moving to his bed. When she sits, he nods and shoves his hands into his pockets. He gets to the door and hesitates. Something drops in the kitchen. “I’m not going anywhere,” she says to Mark, nodding towards the door.
It takes him a minute, and it takes her one more, sinking deeper into the bed as he turns around and heads out into the hallway. She listens vaguely, drawing her hands back and forth over the sheets. There’s Callie’s voice, then Mark’s, and some low, honest hum of sad laughter. Her mouth twists and she closes her eyes.
She promised to wait.
There is a blanket over her hip when Lexie’s eyes open again. She presses her elbow into the bed and sits up, blearily-eyed as she looks around the room. It’s Mark’s, she realizes, and it’s strangely appropriate, still being here. Her hand gropes around over the bed and she knocks her phone off onto the floor.
“Damn it,” she breathes, and there is no light in the room. The door in front of her is cocked, propped open into the hallway. There is a faint light and rubbing her eyes, Lexie spots her boots in the corner, waiting.
“Don’t worry.”
She twists around and there’s Mark, standing in the frame of another door. There’s a light on behind him and she tries to remember if it’s the bathroom or that odd, odd tiny office. He gives her a faint smile, yawning, and then moves to sit down on the bed next to her.
“Long day?”
She laughs tiredly. “You could say that,” she says. The blanket twists around her legs. “How’s -” she hesitates a little, “how’s Callie? Is everything okay? Do you want me to go? I can go, if you want me to go.”
Mark flashes his watches. “It’s close to two. You don’t have to go,” he says, shaking his head. “You can stay. I’ll even do you a favor and sleep onto the couch, if it’s thing.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You don’t have to go anywhere. And don’t do me a favor.”
She doesn’t ask about the blanket, or the sudden, obvious reasoning behind letting her stay or at the very least, not encouraging her to go. It’s a little scary, but she’s comfortable and when she draws her legs up onto the bed again, she twists to face him.
“I don’t know what this means,” she says finally, and he looks at her, curious, just as she reaches for him. Her fingers brush against his jaw. “It’s a little weird, and in my head, I can rationalize nine different, nine perfect reasons to just go home, pretend this didn’t happen and that you didn’t kiss me and I didn’t kiss you.”
“But you’re not,” he says.
Her lips curl, and she shakes her head. “I’m not.”
She looks away too, over his shoulder and to the open window. There’s nothing to see outside but their reflections; she catches Mark as he draws himself up. He looks tired, she thinks - that part of her, the rational part, the part that’s still telling her to leave is pulling again.
But she leans forward too, still watching his reflection, then hers too as her mouth brushes against his shoulder. Her eyes close and she listens to him sigh and then slowly, his fingers are brushing through her hair.
“We’ll have to talk about this,” she says.
“I know,” he says. Lexie bites her lip, just as quickly, “do you?”
Mark shrugs and then smiles, shaking his head. His elbows drop to his knees and he leans back into her, anyway. They sort of sit like this, quietly. It feels grownup, oddly enough, and there’s this need to just let it be. Lexie closes her eyes too and in her head, she starts that count to ten, silencing the rest of her thoughts for the moment.
“You have to give me time,” she murmurs. “A little by little, kind of thing, you know? Just - some time.”
“That’s the plan,” he says, and his mouth turns back, over her shoulder as he curls closer to her. He’s heavy again her, his fingers brushing back over her hip. He straightens the blanket.
Her mouth opens and then closes. Don’t say anything else, she tells herself. Her fingers brush against the back of his neck and she nuzzles him lightly, hiding a sigh. They relax together, slowly.
“Bed then,” she murmurs.
She feels Mark’s mouth curl against her shoulder. “In a minute,” he says.
In the morning, she’s still there.
those anonymous endings
grey’s anatomy ; mark/lexie ; 1,908 words, pg
so this is where they are now. pick your puzzle piece. spoilers for adrift and at peace.
-
Mark draws back, after. They bump knees. A strand of lights comes undone, just under the bar where Mark stands.
“Should fix that,” Joe says, passing. Behind him, the bar starts to get louder. Lexie can’t think. Her fingers flex. They brush over her mouth and when she shift forward, half into Mark, more of the lights seem to sag into the floor. They stare at each other, and Mark’s mouth quirks; she shakes her head, dropping her hand back at her chest. Her heart is pounding in her ears.
“Okay?” Mark asks, and he’s watching her, waiting. She takes a slow step back and her hands curl at her sides.
“Fine,” she breathes. She shakes her head again. “Fine, great, okay. I’m okay. It’s all okay - I -”
“We should go,” he finishes.
The bar erupts in a mix of laughter, set to another round of Christmas songs that have interns and residents mixing with a couple of beers. Joe passes them again and winks at Lexie, making a hand at the lights that have now sunk to draping lazily over a stool and the rest of the floor.
Lexie manages to nod. “Yeah, okay.”
It’s a distant memory, what happened after the shooting, what happened to her, where Mark was, and where she was. There are parts of it that she still hasn’t been able to touch and there, in the middle of Joe’s, it almost touches her all over again.
Mark is there. Things are still different.
They find Callie sitting outside the apartment door, legs outstretched and an unopened bottle of wine by her hip.
“Little Grey!” she greets, and Mark groans softly, moving in front of Lexie. “And Mark! Mark, who isn’t Arizona, who isn’t Mark who may or may not have left his keys on his way out to seduce you with alcohol and his witty charm, Little Grey.”
“Good to know,” Lexie murmurs.
She flashes an awkward smile at the other woman too. Mark moves to Callie as well, reaching for her arm to help her up. Callie jerks herself away though and shakes her head.
“Not drunk,” she says. “Not yet,” she says too. “And as much as I would like to be, it’s probably not going to happen. What you can do is head on inside and make Mark here a more agreeable roommate or something, ‘cause I’d like to surround myself with good, agreeable people.”
Mark shrugs when Lexie looks at him. He tosses her his keys too and she grabs them, nodding absently and stepping into the apartment. Behind her, she can hear him start talking to Callie and she shuts the door carefully, giving the two of them the time.
It’s still Mark inside, more of Mark than Callie and she’s not entirely sure how long the two of them have been living together again. There are pots and pans scattered over the kitchen stove and a wrap draped over the back of one the bar stools.
Lexie’s arms cross at her chest and she rubs them through her jacket, looking around and trying not to think about what just happened, and then what happened again. Her teeth pick at her lips. She doesn’t like them. She can still taste Mark’s drink.
When the door opens, she whirls around and it’s just Mark, shrugging out of his jacket. He tosses it to the side. “She needs a minute,” he tells her and pushes up his sleeves. “Gotta give it to her, you know?”
“Yeah, sure,” Lexie says.
They stare at each other and Mark’s mouth turns. He steps forward too, closer and then over her, his hand dropping to her shoulder. His fingers curl at the collar of her jacket and slowly pushes it back.
“You kissed me,” she blurts, and it’s a good thing, she thinks, that she can back with him and he didn’t come back with her, home, to Meredith’s, because that’s an entirely new kind of territory she’s not ready for. So she says it again, “you kissed me and I -”
“Kissed me back,” he supplies.
“I know,” she breathes.
She’s wide-eyed again and he’s pulled her jacket off, tossing it over his. They drape over another bar stool and Mark takes her hand, tugging her away from the kitchen. His hand is warm. When his fingers lace through hers, she feels them sweep against the back of her hand.
It shouldn’t be this easy, she thinks. And when they get to his room, she thinks it again: it shouldn’t be this easy.
“Why now?” she asks, and he kicks the door behind her shut, drawing his hands back over her shoulders. She looks up to face him and his gaze softens, his mouth relaxing. “I mean,” she says. “Let’s pretend things didn’t happen the way they did, that you’re still - ” she cuts herself off, and Mark’s smiling. “Stop it,” she mutters.
“We don’t need to talk, Lex.”
“Seriously?” she asks.
“Lex,” he murmurs again, and then laughs, shaking his head.
This is easy. His hands rise to frame her face. He leans in and brushes his mouth over hers, and Lexie finds herself leaning back into him. She can feel his mouth turn against hers and she sighs, just slightly, as she lets herself kiss him again.
Her mouth is soft, softer as she turns herself into him. Her fingers start to slide over his shoulder, drawing down along his back. He makes this sound, low and slick, a hot brush of air that sinks back into her. It's a terrible idea, she thinks. A terrible, terrible idea.
Mark pulls back again, first, as if to catch her just in case. Her eyes open and her lips tug into a small smile.
"You win," she says, and her hand drops back against his chest. Her fingers wrap into a fist and she punches him lightly. "I kissed you back," she says.
"Because I'm serious," he tells her.
"Sure."
He laughs. He shakes his head too, sobering for a moment. He looks at her, gaze heavy, just like that first time at Joe's. Her breath catches and there are knots, tiny butterflies circling inside of her. It's the strangest of feelings; almost like that first time, the first time she kissed him way back then, but something entirely different all the same. A part of her doesn't know
how to take it.
"You make me crazy," she murmurs. She laughs a little, looking down. Her hands press against her face. "Oh, Mark. You really, really make me crazy and it's like if I even try and think rationally about how crazy you really make me, it just makes me crazier."
She looks up at him, and he leans in, brushing his mouth against her forehead. They're quiet, for moment, and outside the room, they can hear Callie in the kitchen. A door opens and slams. There are pots being smacked onto the stove and against her, Mark sighs.
"Go," Lexie murmurs. She steps back, moving to his bed. When she sits, he nods and shoves his hands into his pockets. He gets to the door and hesitates. Something drops in the kitchen. “I’m not going anywhere,” she says to Mark, nodding towards the door.
It takes him a minute, and it takes her one more, sinking deeper into the bed as he turns around and heads out into the hallway. She listens vaguely, drawing her hands back and forth over the sheets. There’s Callie’s voice, then Mark’s, and some low, honest hum of sad laughter. Her mouth twists and she closes her eyes.
She promised to wait.
There is a blanket over her hip when Lexie’s eyes open again. She presses her elbow into the bed and sits up, blearily-eyed as she looks around the room. It’s Mark’s, she realizes, and it’s strangely appropriate, still being here. Her hand gropes around over the bed and she knocks her phone off onto the floor.
“Damn it,” she breathes, and there is no light in the room. The door in front of her is cocked, propped open into the hallway. There is a faint light and rubbing her eyes, Lexie spots her boots in the corner, waiting.
“Don’t worry.”
She twists around and there’s Mark, standing in the frame of another door. There’s a light on behind him and she tries to remember if it’s the bathroom or that odd, odd tiny office. He gives her a faint smile, yawning, and then moves to sit down on the bed next to her.
“Long day?”
She laughs tiredly. “You could say that,” she says. The blanket twists around her legs. “How’s -” she hesitates a little, “how’s Callie? Is everything okay? Do you want me to go? I can go, if you want me to go.”
Mark flashes his watches. “It’s close to two. You don’t have to go,” he says, shaking his head. “You can stay. I’ll even do you a favor and sleep onto the couch, if it’s thing.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You don’t have to go anywhere. And don’t do me a favor.”
She doesn’t ask about the blanket, or the sudden, obvious reasoning behind letting her stay or at the very least, not encouraging her to go. It’s a little scary, but she’s comfortable and when she draws her legs up onto the bed again, she twists to face him.
“I don’t know what this means,” she says finally, and he looks at her, curious, just as she reaches for him. Her fingers brush against his jaw. “It’s a little weird, and in my head, I can rationalize nine different, nine perfect reasons to just go home, pretend this didn’t happen and that you didn’t kiss me and I didn’t kiss you.”
“But you’re not,” he says.
Her lips curl, and she shakes her head. “I’m not.”
She looks away too, over his shoulder and to the open window. There’s nothing to see outside but their reflections; she catches Mark as he draws himself up. He looks tired, she thinks - that part of her, the rational part, the part that’s still telling her to leave is pulling again.
But she leans forward too, still watching his reflection, then hers too as her mouth brushes against his shoulder. Her eyes close and she listens to him sigh and then slowly, his fingers are brushing through her hair.
“We’ll have to talk about this,” she says.
“I know,” he says. Lexie bites her lip, just as quickly, “do you?”
Mark shrugs and then smiles, shaking his head. His elbows drop to his knees and he leans back into her, anyway. They sort of sit like this, quietly. It feels grownup, oddly enough, and there’s this need to just let it be. Lexie closes her eyes too and in her head, she starts that count to ten, silencing the rest of her thoughts for the moment.
“You have to give me time,” she murmurs. “A little by little, kind of thing, you know? Just - some time.”
“That’s the plan,” he says, and his mouth turns back, over her shoulder as he curls closer to her. He’s heavy again her, his fingers brushing back over her hip. He straightens the blanket.
Her mouth opens and then closes. Don’t say anything else, she tells herself. Her fingers brush against the back of his neck and she nuzzles him lightly, hiding a sigh. They relax together, slowly.
“Bed then,” she murmurs.
She feels Mark’s mouth curl against her shoulder. “In a minute,” he says.
In the morning, she’s still there.