Paint me a picture with images blurred
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Title: Camera
Fandom: GA
Pairing: George/Izzie
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm only responsible for their fictional corruption.
Summary:Ficlet. George buys a camera.
A/N: Becca wanted me to do "C" for the letter love project and I was already half way through it. So this one is for you baby!
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George is not sure why it works. He just knows that if he points it in her general direction she smiles. That's enough.
He hasn't figured out an easier way to produce the same result. He's made her frown enough to know the ends and outs of that particular expression, but it's still the strangest things that amuse her, please her, make her light up like a Christmas tree.
He can give compliments that get eye rolls, tells jokes that only make her nod and walk away. "George you are so weird" is a commonly heard expression, something she's said enough to give him a complex, to make him wonder what she sees in him anyway.
But when he buys the camera, and starts taking pictures, she doesn't say a word. She doesn't protest a bit.
He walks into the kitchen where she's elbow deep in brownie batter, hair in a messy bun, stained apron in place, and before his finger is on the button she's stopping to pose.
"Call it force of habit." She explains, when he asks. "The only difference is that you haven't asked me to take my clothes off."
When he responds with a quick and un-thought out, "Yet" she laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever said.
The day is so bright he doesn't need the flash, and Izzie's happiness just makes it seem brighter.
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His favorite are the candid photos, the ones where he catches her off guard.
George likes the head tilt, the dazzling quality of her pearly whites, but there's just something about the simple beauty of the look of concentration she gets when she's reading a book, the elegant slope of her jaw when she's sipping a glass of wine, the hilarity of her face twisted in mock outrage when he sticks his hand over the top of the shower and snaps.
"George!" the preceding scream, to a high speed chase. Izzie barely covered in a hastily grabbed towel, slipping and sliding as she drips all over the hallway floor.
"Don't get the camera wet." George's addendum, when she catches him and shoves him on their bed.
She won't, he trusts her, but he reaches to place the expensive gadget on the nightstand anyway. She won't ask him to delete the shot, because she trusts him. She knows he'll hide the picture on his hard-drive for only them to see.
He figures he takes pictures of Izzie for the same reason people take pictures of sunsets and fields of wildflowers. It's a nice to have proof that there is something that lovely in existence, nice to know that he was there as witness.
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She likes scouring his stash, using all his overpriced ink to print out copies in varying sizes.
Of Meredith and Cristina. Meredith and Derek. Alex and Ava. There's tons of just the girls and an odd assortment of the boys looking less than thrilled to share the spotlight.
She fills photo albums and purchases trendy frames. Brushed silver and dark stained wood, that find homes on the living room mantle piece and the downstair's bookshelves.
She saves the silly ones, the ones of them for her locker, for his, for the little plastic fold out accordion thing inside her wallet.
Those are always off center, too close, sometimes blurry. Taken in bed, or at lunch, or at Joe's. Arm extended out, their exact location guessed, because he'd rather get close and maybe screw up the shot than ask anyone else to capture the moment.
In some she has her tongue stuck out and in more than a few he's giving her bunny ears. Crossed eyes or making a fish face, they never fail to lift his spirits on a bad day.
One glance and it's enough, knowing he has someone looking out for him, someone with whom he's trying to return the favor.
+
George stops leaving the house without his camera, ignores the "not again"'s he starts to get from all their friends.
People don't take photos of things they want to forget, and George is happy to remember.
Izzie beside him, Izzie with him, them together.
Title: Camera
Fandom: GA
Pairing: George/Izzie
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm only responsible for their fictional corruption.
Summary:Ficlet. George buys a camera.
A/N: Becca wanted me to do "C" for the letter love project and I was already half way through it. So this one is for you baby!
+
George is not sure why it works. He just knows that if he points it in her general direction she smiles. That's enough.
He hasn't figured out an easier way to produce the same result. He's made her frown enough to know the ends and outs of that particular expression, but it's still the strangest things that amuse her, please her, make her light up like a Christmas tree.
He can give compliments that get eye rolls, tells jokes that only make her nod and walk away. "George you are so weird" is a commonly heard expression, something she's said enough to give him a complex, to make him wonder what she sees in him anyway.
But when he buys the camera, and starts taking pictures, she doesn't say a word. She doesn't protest a bit.
He walks into the kitchen where she's elbow deep in brownie batter, hair in a messy bun, stained apron in place, and before his finger is on the button she's stopping to pose.
"Call it force of habit." She explains, when he asks. "The only difference is that you haven't asked me to take my clothes off."
When he responds with a quick and un-thought out, "Yet" she laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever said.
The day is so bright he doesn't need the flash, and Izzie's happiness just makes it seem brighter.
+
His favorite are the candid photos, the ones where he catches her off guard.
George likes the head tilt, the dazzling quality of her pearly whites, but there's just something about the simple beauty of the look of concentration she gets when she's reading a book, the elegant slope of her jaw when she's sipping a glass of wine, the hilarity of her face twisted in mock outrage when he sticks his hand over the top of the shower and snaps.
"George!" the preceding scream, to a high speed chase. Izzie barely covered in a hastily grabbed towel, slipping and sliding as she drips all over the hallway floor.
"Don't get the camera wet." George's addendum, when she catches him and shoves him on their bed.
She won't, he trusts her, but he reaches to place the expensive gadget on the nightstand anyway. She won't ask him to delete the shot, because she trusts him. She knows he'll hide the picture on his hard-drive for only them to see.
He figures he takes pictures of Izzie for the same reason people take pictures of sunsets and fields of wildflowers. It's a nice to have proof that there is something that lovely in existence, nice to know that he was there as witness.
+
She likes scouring his stash, using all his overpriced ink to print out copies in varying sizes.
Of Meredith and Cristina. Meredith and Derek. Alex and Ava. There's tons of just the girls and an odd assortment of the boys looking less than thrilled to share the spotlight.
She fills photo albums and purchases trendy frames. Brushed silver and dark stained wood, that find homes on the living room mantle piece and the downstair's bookshelves.
She saves the silly ones, the ones of them for her locker, for his, for the little plastic fold out accordion thing inside her wallet.
Those are always off center, too close, sometimes blurry. Taken in bed, or at lunch, or at Joe's. Arm extended out, their exact location guessed, because he'd rather get close and maybe screw up the shot than ask anyone else to capture the moment.
In some she has her tongue stuck out and in more than a few he's giving her bunny ears. Crossed eyes or making a fish face, they never fail to lift his spirits on a bad day.
One glance and it's enough, knowing he has someone looking out for him, someone with whom he's trying to return the favor.
+
George stops leaving the house without his camera, ignores the "not again"'s he starts to get from all their friends.
People don't take photos of things they want to forget, and George is happy to remember.
Izzie beside him, Izzie with him, them together.