(no subject)
Title: Philosophical Hesitation
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Meredith, Cristina.
Prompt: #19 - White for
fanfic100
Word Count: 1,010
Rating: PG-13
Progress: 9/100
Summary: Meredith and Cristina talk wedding plans (or lack thereof), in her quest to avoid Burke.
Author's Note: Prompted by
lil_orli for some Meredith and Cristina interaction. Thanks to
space_dementia6for the title.
“He wants me to help him plan.”
Those words were accompanied by the angry sound of plastic hitting, well, plastic as Cristina all but slammed her tray down on the table and collapsed into her chair in a huff. Up until now Meredith had been foreseeing a peaceful, if a bit lonely, lunch. Izzie and George were avoiding each other, and in the process avoiding her, while Alex was off attending to his Jane Doe. She hadn’t seen Cristina all day and from the looks of it she was about to get an earful as to why.
When Cristina didn’t elaborate, just sat there with that annoyed scowl on her face, expecting Meredith to just know, she finally asked, “Who wants you to what?”
“Burke. Wedding.” Cristina replied, as if this was fill in the blanks. It kind of was.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Meredith responded, watching Cristina raise her eyebrows, challenging that statement. “Well, he wants to do it together. That’s better than laying it all off on you, or just making the decisions by himself.”
“No, he’s the one who wants the wedding, he can make the decisions.” Cristina stated, looking disdainfully at her food for a second before sticking a forkful in her mouth. “All I want to have to do is show up.”
“Did you try telling him that?” Meredith asked, trying her best to humor her friend. She knew it was hard for Cristina but she didn’t so much see the problem. Not that she’d say that. Ever.
“Yes. And you know what happened then?” Meredith shook her head. “He said he’d just call his mother and my mother and see if they wanted to help.”
“And I’m guessing that’s not good?”
Cristina gaped. “I’m sorry, do you remember what happened the last time my mother was here? The crying. The uncontrollable crying. And his mother? The woman is pushier than he is.” A look of horror passed over her face then and Meredith tried not to laugh, opting to bite down on her lip. This would go better if Cristina thought she was just as serious. “If my mother and his mother ever met they’d hatch a plan for world domination. Seriously.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little blown out of proportion?” Cristina gave her a look like she’d just asked if the sky was pink. Obviously she didn’t think she was exaggerating. “Alright, apparently not. What exactly does he want you to do anyways?”
“Dresses. He told me to look at dresses. Like the ones in those overly airbrushed glossy magazines with the articles that make you physically ill.” From the looks of it she was getting sick off of just talking about them.
She couldn’t defend the magazines themselves. But the pictures of those dresses were always a guilty pleasure. Most people liked to fantasize about their wedding, whether they admitted it or not. Cristina just wasn’t one of them. “They’re not all that bad. It just depends what you’re looking for.”
“I know what I’m not looking for.”
“Okay, let’s start there.” Meredith replied, wondering if she should be taking notes since this might be the only time Cristina ever talked openly about the whole wedding thing. It was certainly the first.
“No frills, no lace, no twenty-five foot train.” That last one was a given since she hadn’t seen a train that long since Princess Diana. “And none of that really detailed embroidery. Or pearls. I hate pearls.”
“So, no fancy, poufy stuff,” Meredith summed up, rather simply.
“Nope, none,” Cristina seconded.
“What about something simple? Like with spaghetti straps, and without the billowy skirt. You know plain satin, or silk, kind of like a cocktail dress, just longer.” Meredith suggested, relieved when Cristina seemed amendable to that idea, in addition to calming some more.
“See that I can work with,” Cristina said, with a slight nod. “But where the hell do you see those in the damn magazines he keeps shoving down my throat?”
Meredith shrugged. “Most people want extravagant.”
“Most people are idiots.” Cristina concluded.
She let that lie. “And the white will look really good.”
Cristina’s eyes snapped to find her own. “White? Who said anything about white?”
“Everyone gets married in white. It’s the color of choice.”
“No, actually, it’s the total absence of color.” Cristina corrected.
She lowered her brows, asking sarcastically, “What are you going to do, get married in black?”
“And isn’t white bad luck somewhere? Or maybe it means death.”
Meredith could feel herself growing more and more stressed as the minutes went by, quickly losing her patience. “Whatever, it’s traditional. It looks good. And it’ll be real easy to find so you don’t have to spend three months looking for one and you can just get this over with. It’s not important what you wear, it’s whether or not you want to do this. Now do you want to do this?”
That Cristina had to stop and think before answering was not a comfort. Someone in this deep should not have to pause. But to be fair she was just trying to be honest. “Yes. I do. Want to do this. Just not all…” she made an odd motion with her hands that looked a little funny but Meredith still understood.
“Okay, then this is the plan. Simple, white, easy to move in.” Meredith told her, repeating what they’d already gone over for effect. To mark an end to this topic perhaps.
Cristina nodded. “Same with the bridesmaids dresses.”
“Oh, I’m in charge of figuring them out too now?” Meredith asked, already imagining the debacle over what color they would be.
“Yes. Maid of honor heralds power over the other bridesmaids. So therefore you get to pick the dress you will all suffer in.” Cristina responded, with something like a smile on her face, ready to revel in others pain.
Meredith stopped, struck by her words. “Wait a minute. I’m your maid of honor?”
“Of course you are,” Cristina replied, like it was only natural, adding quietly, “You’re my person.”
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Meredith, Cristina.
Prompt: #19 - White for
fanfic100
Word Count: 1,010
Rating: PG-13
Progress: 9/100
Summary: Meredith and Cristina talk wedding plans (or lack thereof), in her quest to avoid Burke.
Author's Note: Prompted by
lil_orli for some Meredith and Cristina interaction. Thanks to
space_dementia6for the title.
“He wants me to help him plan.”
Those words were accompanied by the angry sound of plastic hitting, well, plastic as Cristina all but slammed her tray down on the table and collapsed into her chair in a huff. Up until now Meredith had been foreseeing a peaceful, if a bit lonely, lunch. Izzie and George were avoiding each other, and in the process avoiding her, while Alex was off attending to his Jane Doe. She hadn’t seen Cristina all day and from the looks of it she was about to get an earful as to why.
When Cristina didn’t elaborate, just sat there with that annoyed scowl on her face, expecting Meredith to just know, she finally asked, “Who wants you to what?”
“Burke. Wedding.” Cristina replied, as if this was fill in the blanks. It kind of was.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Meredith responded, watching Cristina raise her eyebrows, challenging that statement. “Well, he wants to do it together. That’s better than laying it all off on you, or just making the decisions by himself.”
“No, he’s the one who wants the wedding, he can make the decisions.” Cristina stated, looking disdainfully at her food for a second before sticking a forkful in her mouth. “All I want to have to do is show up.”
“Did you try telling him that?” Meredith asked, trying her best to humor her friend. She knew it was hard for Cristina but she didn’t so much see the problem. Not that she’d say that. Ever.
“Yes. And you know what happened then?” Meredith shook her head. “He said he’d just call his mother and my mother and see if they wanted to help.”
“And I’m guessing that’s not good?”
Cristina gaped. “I’m sorry, do you remember what happened the last time my mother was here? The crying. The uncontrollable crying. And his mother? The woman is pushier than he is.” A look of horror passed over her face then and Meredith tried not to laugh, opting to bite down on her lip. This would go better if Cristina thought she was just as serious. “If my mother and his mother ever met they’d hatch a plan for world domination. Seriously.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little blown out of proportion?” Cristina gave her a look like she’d just asked if the sky was pink. Obviously she didn’t think she was exaggerating. “Alright, apparently not. What exactly does he want you to do anyways?”
“Dresses. He told me to look at dresses. Like the ones in those overly airbrushed glossy magazines with the articles that make you physically ill.” From the looks of it she was getting sick off of just talking about them.
She couldn’t defend the magazines themselves. But the pictures of those dresses were always a guilty pleasure. Most people liked to fantasize about their wedding, whether they admitted it or not. Cristina just wasn’t one of them. “They’re not all that bad. It just depends what you’re looking for.”
“I know what I’m not looking for.”
“Okay, let’s start there.” Meredith replied, wondering if she should be taking notes since this might be the only time Cristina ever talked openly about the whole wedding thing. It was certainly the first.
“No frills, no lace, no twenty-five foot train.” That last one was a given since she hadn’t seen a train that long since Princess Diana. “And none of that really detailed embroidery. Or pearls. I hate pearls.”
“So, no fancy, poufy stuff,” Meredith summed up, rather simply.
“Nope, none,” Cristina seconded.
“What about something simple? Like with spaghetti straps, and without the billowy skirt. You know plain satin, or silk, kind of like a cocktail dress, just longer.” Meredith suggested, relieved when Cristina seemed amendable to that idea, in addition to calming some more.
“See that I can work with,” Cristina said, with a slight nod. “But where the hell do you see those in the damn magazines he keeps shoving down my throat?”
Meredith shrugged. “Most people want extravagant.”
“Most people are idiots.” Cristina concluded.
She let that lie. “And the white will look really good.”
Cristina’s eyes snapped to find her own. “White? Who said anything about white?”
“Everyone gets married in white. It’s the color of choice.”
“No, actually, it’s the total absence of color.” Cristina corrected.
She lowered her brows, asking sarcastically, “What are you going to do, get married in black?”
“And isn’t white bad luck somewhere? Or maybe it means death.”
Meredith could feel herself growing more and more stressed as the minutes went by, quickly losing her patience. “Whatever, it’s traditional. It looks good. And it’ll be real easy to find so you don’t have to spend three months looking for one and you can just get this over with. It’s not important what you wear, it’s whether or not you want to do this. Now do you want to do this?”
That Cristina had to stop and think before answering was not a comfort. Someone in this deep should not have to pause. But to be fair she was just trying to be honest. “Yes. I do. Want to do this. Just not all…” she made an odd motion with her hands that looked a little funny but Meredith still understood.
“Okay, then this is the plan. Simple, white, easy to move in.” Meredith told her, repeating what they’d already gone over for effect. To mark an end to this topic perhaps.
Cristina nodded. “Same with the bridesmaids dresses.”
“Oh, I’m in charge of figuring them out too now?” Meredith asked, already imagining the debacle over what color they would be.
“Yes. Maid of honor heralds power over the other bridesmaids. So therefore you get to pick the dress you will all suffer in.” Cristina responded, with something like a smile on her face, ready to revel in others pain.
Meredith stopped, struck by her words. “Wait a minute. I’m your maid of honor?”
“Of course you are,” Cristina replied, like it was only natural, adding quietly, “You’re my person.”