She's complicated with an easy smile
So today is Kimmy's birthday (the best friend/roommate, for newcomers to Lee's life). We are going out with Canbran and a few randoms for sushi tonight. It's going to be a long day because I'm really really really ready for some Spicy Tuna.
I'm going to try and participate in the Luau today. astra2104 I so owe you, but I couldn't even find my Lost dvds yesterday. I think one of my lame friends has stolen (borrowed, whatever) it, along with five seasons of 24, and Twin Peaks. (Who's got that kinda time?) But anyway - yeah - don't let me forget to write you something soon.
Now GA fic, schmoop to get me writing them again.
Title: Paycheck
Fandom: GA
Pairing: George/Izzie
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am only responsible for their fictional corruption.
Summary: Money can't buy you love. Good thing George doesn't need it.
Spoilers: Um, a George and Izzie angst free future. I wish it were canon but only time will tell.
A/N: P is for paycheck. Ficlet. Apparently I can't remember how to write a G/I series. Schmoop to the max though. Put on your water wings, you'll drown in it.
He's not in it for the money, that's not why any of them sacrificed sleep and time and actual real, normal lives, to go to med school. But George is just a little jealous of Izzie. Just a little envious of the fact that she doesn't have to worry about student loans.
Just a little flabbergasted, still, that she gave all of Denny's money away. Signed over the check without indulging in so much as a shopping spree, a vacation, a nest egg for the future.
Izzie doesn't really think about the future, George decides. She's glass half full. He's a little jealous of that as well - at how often she expects it all just to work out.
"It always does, or at least it always has. Just look at us." She justifies, head laying in his lap, eyes looking up to meet his, frowning slightly at the sight of down-turned lips.
"If you call a messy divorce, hours of angst, nights of sleeplessness, and a repeated first year - "working out", then yeah I guess you are right."
George doesn't mean to be negative, he's just occasionally insecure. The year changed him. He now sometimes doubts the good will last.
Izzie's laugh in response isn't anything but light and heartfelt, feelings not hurt, pity not given. "Everything worth having is worth working for."
And that - George won't argue against.
Izzie shrugs, shoulders moving momentarily, weight lifted and then redeposited evenly on legs tired after a long day's work.
He became a doctor to help people. He stayed at Seattle Grace because being a surgeon didn't feel like a choice he could walk away from. Walking away from Izzie, just as impossible an option.
She made it sound easy - the fight, the struggle, the humiliation of failure faced and overcome. She made standing by him, as he made his decisions - both wrong and right - look effortless.
George experienced blood, sweat, tears - and in the end this is what he has to show for it.
- - -
He never really expected happily ever after. He wanted it. Doesn't everyone want it? But for a while there, George was sure he wouldn't get it.
Izzie is warm, always warm, hot to the touch. It's almost unbelievably amazing how something as simple as her hand on his arm can chase away his chill.
It's always cold in the winter, with Meredith's mother's old house and it's fickle gas heater, but George doesn't notice when he's sharing his bed with Izzie. It's easy to wrap around her like a blanket and steal her body heat.
She's softer than both the mattress and his pillow, perfectly pliable and accommodating in the best of ways. He shifts closer and she turns into him, molds her body to fit his.
Her curves against him, his chest pressed tight enough to feel similar heartbeats, George can't help notice the feeling.
Happiness, no other word for it, something so unexpected it feels surreal in the darkness.
Something George wants so bad he closes his eyes, just in case it is, wanting just a few more hours of sleep.
"Mmmm," Izzie mumbles, without opening hers. "What do you want me to cook for breakfast?"
Just like Izzie to dream of baked goods, of him, to talk of one to the other -even unconscious.
He would like to take her out for fresh crepes and morning Mimosas, buy two tickets to Paris to get away from it all, and order the meal in French.
George would like to give Izzie a lot of things -but he's beginning to think that Plan B might be even better.
- - -
He just makes enough at the moment to pay his portion of the bills. To cover the rising cost of gas. To eat.
He's not a high roller, not the idea mother's have in their heads when they encourage their daughter's to "marry a doctor."
George thought that having it all, everything he wanted, would require a lot more. Take a lot longer. Years looking, years without, years trying to be something more than what he is, trying to become someone better.
But as long as Izzie wants him, as long as he's enough for her - he's a success. He's got it made. He's living the fairytale.
"You're right." He says, hours later, with a bite of blueberry muffin still in his mouth.
"I usually am." Izzie offers, with a smile that marvels the sunny day shining through the window behind her.
She doesn't ask about what. She lets him chew and swallow, take a giant gulp of two-percent and wipe his mouth with a nearby napkin.
"Everything ends the way it should." George states, and for the first time - he believes it.
Izzie waits, biting her lip in a come hither way when he does just that. When he crosses the kitchen, what little distance is still between them, to start a toe-curling kiss that's just as good as the first forbidden one, the last sweet one they shared the night before.
"And maybe," George adds, after reluctantly pulling away, just long enough to say what needs to be said, "maybe somethings don't end at all."
George still isn't sure he deserves it, but this is what he's taking. Izzie and the change in his pocket, today and tomorrow.
It's more than enough.
I'm going to try and participate in the Luau today. astra2104 I so owe you, but I couldn't even find my Lost dvds yesterday. I think one of my lame friends has stolen (borrowed, whatever) it, along with five seasons of 24, and Twin Peaks. (Who's got that kinda time?) But anyway - yeah - don't let me forget to write you something soon.
Now GA fic, schmoop to get me writing them again.
Title: Paycheck
Fandom: GA
Pairing: George/Izzie
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am only responsible for their fictional corruption.
Summary: Money can't buy you love. Good thing George doesn't need it.
Spoilers: Um, a George and Izzie angst free future. I wish it were canon but only time will tell.
A/N: P is for paycheck. Ficlet. Apparently I can't remember how to write a G/I series. Schmoop to the max though. Put on your water wings, you'll drown in it.
He's not in it for the money, that's not why any of them sacrificed sleep and time and actual real, normal lives, to go to med school. But George is just a little jealous of Izzie. Just a little envious of the fact that she doesn't have to worry about student loans.
Just a little flabbergasted, still, that she gave all of Denny's money away. Signed over the check without indulging in so much as a shopping spree, a vacation, a nest egg for the future.
Izzie doesn't really think about the future, George decides. She's glass half full. He's a little jealous of that as well - at how often she expects it all just to work out.
"It always does, or at least it always has. Just look at us." She justifies, head laying in his lap, eyes looking up to meet his, frowning slightly at the sight of down-turned lips.
"If you call a messy divorce, hours of angst, nights of sleeplessness, and a repeated first year - "working out", then yeah I guess you are right."
George doesn't mean to be negative, he's just occasionally insecure. The year changed him. He now sometimes doubts the good will last.
Izzie's laugh in response isn't anything but light and heartfelt, feelings not hurt, pity not given. "Everything worth having is worth working for."
And that - George won't argue against.
Izzie shrugs, shoulders moving momentarily, weight lifted and then redeposited evenly on legs tired after a long day's work.
He became a doctor to help people. He stayed at Seattle Grace because being a surgeon didn't feel like a choice he could walk away from. Walking away from Izzie, just as impossible an option.
She made it sound easy - the fight, the struggle, the humiliation of failure faced and overcome. She made standing by him, as he made his decisions - both wrong and right - look effortless.
George experienced blood, sweat, tears - and in the end this is what he has to show for it.
- - -
He never really expected happily ever after. He wanted it. Doesn't everyone want it? But for a while there, George was sure he wouldn't get it.
Izzie is warm, always warm, hot to the touch. It's almost unbelievably amazing how something as simple as her hand on his arm can chase away his chill.
It's always cold in the winter, with Meredith's mother's old house and it's fickle gas heater, but George doesn't notice when he's sharing his bed with Izzie. It's easy to wrap around her like a blanket and steal her body heat.
She's softer than both the mattress and his pillow, perfectly pliable and accommodating in the best of ways. He shifts closer and she turns into him, molds her body to fit his.
Her curves against him, his chest pressed tight enough to feel similar heartbeats, George can't help notice the feeling.
Happiness, no other word for it, something so unexpected it feels surreal in the darkness.
Something George wants so bad he closes his eyes, just in case it is, wanting just a few more hours of sleep.
"Mmmm," Izzie mumbles, without opening hers. "What do you want me to cook for breakfast?"
Just like Izzie to dream of baked goods, of him, to talk of one to the other -even unconscious.
He would like to take her out for fresh crepes and morning Mimosas, buy two tickets to Paris to get away from it all, and order the meal in French.
George would like to give Izzie a lot of things -but he's beginning to think that Plan B might be even better.
- - -
He just makes enough at the moment to pay his portion of the bills. To cover the rising cost of gas. To eat.
He's not a high roller, not the idea mother's have in their heads when they encourage their daughter's to "marry a doctor."
George thought that having it all, everything he wanted, would require a lot more. Take a lot longer. Years looking, years without, years trying to be something more than what he is, trying to become someone better.
But as long as Izzie wants him, as long as he's enough for her - he's a success. He's got it made. He's living the fairytale.
"You're right." He says, hours later, with a bite of blueberry muffin still in his mouth.
"I usually am." Izzie offers, with a smile that marvels the sunny day shining through the window behind her.
She doesn't ask about what. She lets him chew and swallow, take a giant gulp of two-percent and wipe his mouth with a nearby napkin.
"Everything ends the way it should." George states, and for the first time - he believes it.
Izzie waits, biting her lip in a come hither way when he does just that. When he crosses the kitchen, what little distance is still between them, to start a toe-curling kiss that's just as good as the first forbidden one, the last sweet one they shared the night before.
"And maybe," George adds, after reluctantly pulling away, just long enough to say what needs to be said, "maybe somethings don't end at all."
George still isn't sure he deserves it, but this is what he's taking. Izzie and the change in his pocket, today and tomorrow.
It's more than enough.