(no subject)
Title:Domesticated
Author: psuedo_catalyst
Pairing:Cristina, Meredith
Rating:pg
Summary: "There are three things in this world you can count on. Death, taxes, and Meredith."
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Cristina has this dream sometimes, where she’s older and graying, frown lines in her brow, though she still stands tall and straight and thin as a rail. In this dream, there’s no Burke, no Owen, and no Derrick, either, and Cristina and Meredith work long, hard, ridiculous hours, and they both come home to Meredith’s mother’s old, stately, ramshackle house.
In Cristina’s dream, she and Meredith get home after an endless shift, bone-tired, and Meredith makes tea and Cristina spikes it with whiskey, and they sit facing each other, each with her back against one arm of the couch.
There’s a cat, and in her dream, Cristina knows that it was a stray that Meredith adopted and coaxed into the house with food, that Meredith adored and domesticated, and that it always sits on Cristina’s feet and purrs. Meredith makes some sort of crack about biting the hand that feeds, and Cristina says, “It’s just because I ignore it. You want it too much,” and tries to pretend she doesn’t love the warmth and weight and rumbling purr of the overweight grey fluff ball sending vibrations up her feet, ankles, calves.
They talk about the things they usually talk about-surgery, patients, hospital gossip. Cristina vaguely registers at one point that they’re talking about Alex and Izzie. Huh, she thinks, they made it too. In her hazy dream state, it doesn’t matter that Meredith’s technically married, that Cristina never actually lived here-it feels as natural as breathing. Meredith carries both of their mugs to the kitchen when Cristina claims she can’t move without waking the cat.
Cristina never had a best friend in grade school. She never pinky-promised someone she’d write to them every weeks she was away for summer vacation or shared half her Oreos to make someone else smile. Meredith makes Cristina understand why kids swear friendship in blood, though. Cristina’s a doctor, she knows about AIDS risks and tetanus, but she also knows that in terms of being blood sisters, she and Meredith have done the Seattle Grace equivalent of slicing their palms, clasping their hands and swearing to be friends forever a hundred times over.
Cristina’s difficult. She’s hard to live with, hard to care about, and she knows most of her relationships won’t last forever. Meredith’s still there, though. She always has been. It doesn’t matter if there’s an Owen, Burke, Derrick, or even a Finn, if they’re both happily married or old maids. Cristina adds a new clause onto one of her stepfather’s favorite sayings as she turns over in bed and goes back to sleep. There are only three things in this world you can count on. Death, taxes, and Meredith.
Author: psuedo_catalyst
Pairing:Cristina, Meredith
Rating:pg
Summary: "There are three things in this world you can count on. Death, taxes, and Meredith."
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Cristina has this dream sometimes, where she’s older and graying, frown lines in her brow, though she still stands tall and straight and thin as a rail. In this dream, there’s no Burke, no Owen, and no Derrick, either, and Cristina and Meredith work long, hard, ridiculous hours, and they both come home to Meredith’s mother’s old, stately, ramshackle house.
In Cristina’s dream, she and Meredith get home after an endless shift, bone-tired, and Meredith makes tea and Cristina spikes it with whiskey, and they sit facing each other, each with her back against one arm of the couch.
There’s a cat, and in her dream, Cristina knows that it was a stray that Meredith adopted and coaxed into the house with food, that Meredith adored and domesticated, and that it always sits on Cristina’s feet and purrs. Meredith makes some sort of crack about biting the hand that feeds, and Cristina says, “It’s just because I ignore it. You want it too much,” and tries to pretend she doesn’t love the warmth and weight and rumbling purr of the overweight grey fluff ball sending vibrations up her feet, ankles, calves.
They talk about the things they usually talk about-surgery, patients, hospital gossip. Cristina vaguely registers at one point that they’re talking about Alex and Izzie. Huh, she thinks, they made it too. In her hazy dream state, it doesn’t matter that Meredith’s technically married, that Cristina never actually lived here-it feels as natural as breathing. Meredith carries both of their mugs to the kitchen when Cristina claims she can’t move without waking the cat.
Cristina never had a best friend in grade school. She never pinky-promised someone she’d write to them every weeks she was away for summer vacation or shared half her Oreos to make someone else smile. Meredith makes Cristina understand why kids swear friendship in blood, though. Cristina’s a doctor, she knows about AIDS risks and tetanus, but she also knows that in terms of being blood sisters, she and Meredith have done the Seattle Grace equivalent of slicing their palms, clasping their hands and swearing to be friends forever a hundred times over.
Cristina’s difficult. She’s hard to live with, hard to care about, and she knows most of her relationships won’t last forever. Meredith’s still there, though. She always has been. It doesn’t matter if there’s an Owen, Burke, Derrick, or even a Finn, if they’re both happily married or old maids. Cristina adds a new clause onto one of her stepfather’s favorite sayings as she turns over in bed and goes back to sleep. There are only three things in this world you can count on. Death, taxes, and Meredith.