Fic: Stranger Anxiety
Title: Stranger Anxiety
Author: speed_of_me (foibles_fables)
Characters/Pairings: Meredith, Lexie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 846
Summary: Zola doesn't like Lexie.
Notes: It feels weird to be posting this, but this idea wouldn't let me go. Whipped up quickly, minimal editing.
“I don’t think she…she doesn’t like me very much.”
Meredith’s forehead wrinkles as she raises a thin eyebrow towards her open bedroom door. Through tired eyes, she watches Lexie leaning against the doorframe. She’s keeping a safe distance, arms folded over her chest - a security blanket for the uncomfortable moment. When their eyes meet, Lexie’s widen a little and she fights the urge to glance away. Ignoring this, Meredith pursues the issue. “What do you mean?”
Lexie’s mouth opens to speak, but the words clutter up and get stuck before they can reach her throat. Only one breaks free and hits the air. “Zola,” she explains with a quick gesture towards the milk drunk, heavy-eyed infant in Meredith’s arms. Her chubby cheek rests just above Meredith’s collarbone and her little body is limp, completely spent after a good bottle.
“She likes you, Lexie.” There’s only a hint of dismissiveness in her tone. But Lexie can’t blame her for that - she wonders to herself how many hours of sleep her sister is currently running on. Meredith settles against the headboard, being careful not to disturb the baby. She rubs the little back, not expertly, but confidently, the only trait that matters. Zola’s eyes droop even more, and she cuddles deeper into Meredith’s arms.
“Mer, she screams when I look at her,” Lexie points out, and it’s an exaggeration, but only a slight one. Zola screams when Lexie holds her - looking is only cause for a few silent tears and a trembling lower lip. Lexie says it with a smile, because it really is funny, but the smallness and waver of her voice only go along with sadness.
“She’s not screaming now, is she?”
“Well, no, but…” Lexie looks at the carpet and scratches anxiously at the back of her neck.
“She’s just a baby, Lex,” Meredith offers softly.
Lexie sighs, defeated. “Exactly. I know. And I know I’m being totally irrational,” she stammers, words anything but stuck this time. “I know it’s just stranger anxiety, which is important, developmental milestone and all, and also good to see because it means she’s bonded with you. And I know she’ll grow out of it eventually, but it’s just…babies, babies make me nervous. And babies don’t like nervous people.”
It ends on that same lame note as most of her uneasy rants do, with the same unsure tone and premature cut-off. Meredith narrows her eyes at her sister, not buying it. Lexie still hasn’t moved an inch from the doorframe.
“Babies don’t make you nervous.” Lexie bites her lip and swallows.
“Yeah, no, but this is…it’s different.”
Because it was an excuse; Lexie is a champ with little ones. But it’s this baby, and that makes all the difference. Zola has become a part of Meredith, and rejection by any part of Meredith still stings like crazy - especially when it seemed like all that was over and done with. It makes her stomach hurt.
And Lexie really hopes Meredith can’t read minds, but it seems like she might have that talent because of the way her face softens like she gets it. Lexie starts a pivot to high-tail it out of there, ready to call a goodnight over her shoulder, but stops when Meredith murmurs her name.
“Come here,” she orders, patting the empty spot next to her on the bed. The baby stays passed out on her shoulder. “She’s fed, she’s changed, she’s happy. Come hold her for a little while. I’ll stay right here in case there’s a catastrophe.” The last part is meant as a joke, but makes Lexie want to groan out loud. She stays frozen, heart pounding embarrassingly fast, until Meredith raises her eyebrows impatiently. So she lurches forward, slow steps leading her to the bed. She climbs on carefully.
“Sit back, she’ll be okay,” Meredith says, and Lexie does as she’s told, copying Meredith’s relaxed position against the pillows. Satisfied, Meredith gently lifts sleepy Zola away from her body. The infant shudders a bit at the loss of physical contact, but quickly settles against a new anchor: the soft warmth of Lexie’s body. She immediately snuggles into the cotton of Lexie’s shirt, eyes closing once again with a tiny sigh. No screaming.
“See? Perfectly content,” Meredith says, touching Zola’s back. Lexie’s hand replaces Meredith’s, rubbing in small, slow circles.
“Yeah, she’s good,” Lexie murmurs, playing it cool, hiding the surprise, reveling in the feeling of that little body clinging to hers, that multiplied, drowsy warmth.
Meredith flashes Lexie a weary smile before yawning and stretching. “And someday,” she tells her sister as she lies down completely, head propped up in her hand, “you’ll have a little one who’s attached to you and completely and utterly terrified of me.”
Lexie lets out a breathless, giddy kind of laugh at the absurdity of that assumption. “I really doubt that,” she whispers, wearing a shy smile that brightens into a lip-bitten grin as Meredith smiles back.
Zola hiccups just once, remaining fast asleep against Lexie’s shoulder. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Meredith drifts off as well. Lexie just keeps smiling.