Grey's Anatomy ficlet: 'Fuck The Details'
I'm only going to say this once. hackthis, you were right. But you can wipe that smug grin off your face right now!
Title: Fuck the Details
Author: Signe
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters: George, Cristina, Izzie, Meredith
Rating: R
Word count: 821
A/N: For hackthis, who said this didn't suck, and suggested disembowelment! Spoilers up to episode 2.02, as that's as far as my viewing marathon got me.
George hasn't yet decided where he's going to seduce Meredith.
Or when.
Or how.
Okay, so he's pretty much lacking all the details except the most important one: he's going to seduce Meredith and it's going to work. And wherever they are, she'll be leaning in towards him, eyes focused on him and only him, lips smiling softly - George has a matching smile - and opening to say-
To say something. He hasn't quite worked out what she actually says because every time he tries to get the next step sorted, Meredith-in-his-head ends up stuttering and prevaricating and that's really not Meredith's style at all.
He just needs to make sure it's not in a stairwell. Stairwells don't agree with him. And not at home where Izzie might walk in and start laughing, or in the locker room where he'd be willing to bet Alex would walk in at exactly the wrong moment. Not in a restaurant, because he hasn't a clue how to get Meredith to a restaurant with him. No privacy in Joe's bar.
George wonders how Meredith feels about the mortuary.
*
Cristina is going to disembowel Burke. She has the scalpel in her gloved hand, a book resting on his legs and an audience in the gallery from the Chief down. She's all set. One keen slash, long and deep: sternum, linea alba, pubes. She stops there, though her hand itches to move lower, see what else the scalpel can do.
He's wide eyed and screaming, because he's a stupid fucking man and even now he doesn't get why she has to do this. Why she has to pull out his colon and examine it in loving detail, pointing out every flaw, why she needs to cut out his liver and pancreas and bladder, until the large stainless steel bowl on the table is full of warm messy organs. Eventually he gets it and he screams her name and sorry, sorry, sorry over and over, but it's too late and she doesn't give a damn if he's sorry.
All she cares about is that he feels exactly as bad as she did this morning, hanging her head down a lavatory bowl pucking her guts out. And as bad as she felt last night when she cried herself to sleep because of all the damn hormones that are his fault because she doesn't do the weeping thing. Ever.
Everything is his fault, and he has to pay. And he'd better quit the screaming, because it's getting on her nerves, and you don't want to get on the nerves of a hormonal doctor with a scalpel in her hand.
"Cristina?" George is nudging her on the shoulder and her bleeper's going off, a loud scream.
"It'd better be something good," she mutters, rubbing her eyes and swinging her legs off the gurney.
She can still picture Burke, can still see his pain, and that's good, because that's all that's keeping her (relatively) sane right now.
*
Izzie isn't getting any, and it's making her cranky. It wasn't so bad when she thought it was all of them and they could be miserable together. But Cristina's pregnant so she had to be getting some, and Meredith and Dr. McDreamy very loudly let them all know they were getting plenty, and George had typhoid Mary - and when George is getting more action than she is, and not the solo kind, things have to be bad. Not even the thought of syphilis or pregnancy or being the other woman is enough to stop her feeling left out.
The longest she ever went without sex before she made sixteen batches of cup cakes. She's up to twenty-two batches already, and three gateaux. Maybe she should just stay in and eat chocolate cake all day and get enormously fat and then at least there'll be a good reason why she isn't having sex.
Or she could go out and prove that doctors can be good doctors and still have a life. Sex life included.
Izzie opens the cupboard and gets the flour. Batch twenty-three coming right up.
*
One night stands were supposed to stay that way. They weren't supposed to pop up at work the next day, look at her across the room with dark sexy eyes and then haunt her forever. Meredith used to be good at one-night stands, but obviously she's lost the knack.
Celibacy is the new black, she decides. Lots of fringe benefits too: save money on condoms, look okay in the morning without having to resort to plastering herself with the heavy duty foundation, no yawning for at least the first twelve hours of a rotation.
She throws another shot back and ignores the guy further along the bar who's trying to catch her eye. Celibacy - she's settled on that.
Next time it's George's turn to do the shopping, she'll put a vibrator on the list.
Title: Fuck the Details
Author: Signe
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters: George, Cristina, Izzie, Meredith
Rating: R
Word count: 821
A/N: For hackthis, who said this didn't suck, and suggested disembowelment! Spoilers up to episode 2.02, as that's as far as my viewing marathon got me.
George hasn't yet decided where he's going to seduce Meredith.
Or when.
Or how.
Okay, so he's pretty much lacking all the details except the most important one: he's going to seduce Meredith and it's going to work. And wherever they are, she'll be leaning in towards him, eyes focused on him and only him, lips smiling softly - George has a matching smile - and opening to say-
To say something. He hasn't quite worked out what she actually says because every time he tries to get the next step sorted, Meredith-in-his-head ends up stuttering and prevaricating and that's really not Meredith's style at all.
He just needs to make sure it's not in a stairwell. Stairwells don't agree with him. And not at home where Izzie might walk in and start laughing, or in the locker room where he'd be willing to bet Alex would walk in at exactly the wrong moment. Not in a restaurant, because he hasn't a clue how to get Meredith to a restaurant with him. No privacy in Joe's bar.
George wonders how Meredith feels about the mortuary.
*
Cristina is going to disembowel Burke. She has the scalpel in her gloved hand, a book resting on his legs and an audience in the gallery from the Chief down. She's all set. One keen slash, long and deep: sternum, linea alba, pubes. She stops there, though her hand itches to move lower, see what else the scalpel can do.
He's wide eyed and screaming, because he's a stupid fucking man and even now he doesn't get why she has to do this. Why she has to pull out his colon and examine it in loving detail, pointing out every flaw, why she needs to cut out his liver and pancreas and bladder, until the large stainless steel bowl on the table is full of warm messy organs. Eventually he gets it and he screams her name and sorry, sorry, sorry over and over, but it's too late and she doesn't give a damn if he's sorry.
All she cares about is that he feels exactly as bad as she did this morning, hanging her head down a lavatory bowl pucking her guts out. And as bad as she felt last night when she cried herself to sleep because of all the damn hormones that are his fault because she doesn't do the weeping thing. Ever.
Everything is his fault, and he has to pay. And he'd better quit the screaming, because it's getting on her nerves, and you don't want to get on the nerves of a hormonal doctor with a scalpel in her hand.
"Cristina?" George is nudging her on the shoulder and her bleeper's going off, a loud scream.
"It'd better be something good," she mutters, rubbing her eyes and swinging her legs off the gurney.
She can still picture Burke, can still see his pain, and that's good, because that's all that's keeping her (relatively) sane right now.
*
Izzie isn't getting any, and it's making her cranky. It wasn't so bad when she thought it was all of them and they could be miserable together. But Cristina's pregnant so she had to be getting some, and Meredith and Dr. McDreamy very loudly let them all know they were getting plenty, and George had typhoid Mary - and when George is getting more action than she is, and not the solo kind, things have to be bad. Not even the thought of syphilis or pregnancy or being the other woman is enough to stop her feeling left out.
The longest she ever went without sex before she made sixteen batches of cup cakes. She's up to twenty-two batches already, and three gateaux. Maybe she should just stay in and eat chocolate cake all day and get enormously fat and then at least there'll be a good reason why she isn't having sex.
Or she could go out and prove that doctors can be good doctors and still have a life. Sex life included.
Izzie opens the cupboard and gets the flour. Batch twenty-three coming right up.
*
One night stands were supposed to stay that way. They weren't supposed to pop up at work the next day, look at her across the room with dark sexy eyes and then haunt her forever. Meredith used to be good at one-night stands, but obviously she's lost the knack.
Celibacy is the new black, she decides. Lots of fringe benefits too: save money on condoms, look okay in the morning without having to resort to plastering herself with the heavy duty foundation, no yawning for at least the first twelve hours of a rotation.
She throws another shot back and ignores the guy further along the bar who's trying to catch her eye. Celibacy - she's settled on that.
Next time it's George's turn to do the shopping, she'll put a vibrator on the list.