(no subject)
Title: Taking Sides (And It's Kind Of The Same Side)
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Alex, slight Alex/Lexie
Word Count: 676
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to 4.07 - Physical Attraction Chemical Reaction.
Summary: She's on the steps leading up to the front door when he pulls up, looking tired, embarrassed and hurt all wrapped into one person shaped ghost and none of that is making it very easy for him to just drop off the scotch and go.
He doesn’t believe he’s doing this. He picked sides, specifically Meredith’s because he’s known her the longest, she’s one of the only people he’s let anywhere close to in and now she’s telling him to take her sister home. That’s all he was going to do. Drive her home and then collapse in bed and wonder when he started putting other people’s agendas ahead of his own.
Now he’s buying scotch for Thatcher Grey and he’s pretty sure this isn’t what you do with one night stands. You don’t give a shit about their families, their lives, their feelings. And yet he’s gotten him intertwined in the mess that is Meredith Grey’s life and by extension Lexie’s. The fact that he slept with her was just more fuel to the fire.
She’s on the steps leading up to the front door when he pulls up, looking tired, embarrassed and hurt all wrapped into one person shaped ghost (she’s pale as one, cold too) and none of that is making it very easy for him to just drop off the Scotch and run. He feels bad for her and he doesn’t want to be feeling anything. But when has he ever gotten what he wants.
Lexie comes towards him, slowly, meets him halfway up to the house with an, “I’m so sorry,” and her eyes on the ground beneath her feet.
“It’s fine,” he tells her, all reflex and without any put-upon grumbles or groans he normally gave when he was sent off on a pointless or potentially gross (and not in any sort of good way) case at Seattle Grace or, frankly, sent to do laundry by Meredith or Izzie.
She takes the scotch from him. “Thank you. I know this is not what you wanted to be doing with your night so thank you for,” she clears her throat and he thinks she either was crying before he got here or she might start now (and he really hopes it isn’t the latter because he never knows what to say or do, and the one time he did he didn’t actually end up having to say anything at all), “thank you for not letting him drive.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He replies. “I guess it’s good we got here when we did.”
She nods and there’s enough of a degree of hesitation, a lack of relief, in the motion that he’s fairly confident that this is just another in a long series of times she’s come home to find her father absolutely wasted and looking for his next drink and he hates that he’s familiar with the way that can get under your skin.
It’s why he went in the first place, he thinks. It’s why he offered, without a second thought, to go buy scotch for the guy if only to get him to drop the keys and go back inside. He used to see his father get behind the wheel drunk, high or just generally fucked up, and when he was old enough to understand exactly why his mother freaked out, exactly why it wasn’t such a fabulous idea, he used to play worst case scenarios through his mind. He hated his father but he didn’t want the son of a bitch to die, he knew that now and he must have subconsciously known that even back then.
He didn’t want Lexie to have to go through that. He didn’t want Meredith to have to go through that. In some weird way he’s trying to protect the both of them and it may not be the most obvious way but no one’s ever called him a hero and he’d never wanted that title either.
“I should be getting inside,” she says finally, taking a step back. “Goodnight.”
She’s halfway to her door, with not a goodbye or a goodnight out of his mouth, before he offers, “If you need anything, call me.”
A slow, solemn nod is her only answer as she walks inside and he gets in his car and drives away.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Alex, slight Alex/Lexie
Word Count: 676
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to 4.07 - Physical Attraction Chemical Reaction.
Summary: She's on the steps leading up to the front door when he pulls up, looking tired, embarrassed and hurt all wrapped into one person shaped ghost and none of that is making it very easy for him to just drop off the scotch and go.
He doesn’t believe he’s doing this. He picked sides, specifically Meredith’s because he’s known her the longest, she’s one of the only people he’s let anywhere close to in and now she’s telling him to take her sister home. That’s all he was going to do. Drive her home and then collapse in bed and wonder when he started putting other people’s agendas ahead of his own.
Now he’s buying scotch for Thatcher Grey and he’s pretty sure this isn’t what you do with one night stands. You don’t give a shit about their families, their lives, their feelings. And yet he’s gotten him intertwined in the mess that is Meredith Grey’s life and by extension Lexie’s. The fact that he slept with her was just more fuel to the fire.
She’s on the steps leading up to the front door when he pulls up, looking tired, embarrassed and hurt all wrapped into one person shaped ghost (she’s pale as one, cold too) and none of that is making it very easy for him to just drop off the Scotch and run. He feels bad for her and he doesn’t want to be feeling anything. But when has he ever gotten what he wants.
Lexie comes towards him, slowly, meets him halfway up to the house with an, “I’m so sorry,” and her eyes on the ground beneath her feet.
“It’s fine,” he tells her, all reflex and without any put-upon grumbles or groans he normally gave when he was sent off on a pointless or potentially gross (and not in any sort of good way) case at Seattle Grace or, frankly, sent to do laundry by Meredith or Izzie.
She takes the scotch from him. “Thank you. I know this is not what you wanted to be doing with your night so thank you for,” she clears her throat and he thinks she either was crying before he got here or she might start now (and he really hopes it isn’t the latter because he never knows what to say or do, and the one time he did he didn’t actually end up having to say anything at all), “thank you for not letting him drive.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He replies. “I guess it’s good we got here when we did.”
She nods and there’s enough of a degree of hesitation, a lack of relief, in the motion that he’s fairly confident that this is just another in a long series of times she’s come home to find her father absolutely wasted and looking for his next drink and he hates that he’s familiar with the way that can get under your skin.
It’s why he went in the first place, he thinks. It’s why he offered, without a second thought, to go buy scotch for the guy if only to get him to drop the keys and go back inside. He used to see his father get behind the wheel drunk, high or just generally fucked up, and when he was old enough to understand exactly why his mother freaked out, exactly why it wasn’t such a fabulous idea, he used to play worst case scenarios through his mind. He hated his father but he didn’t want the son of a bitch to die, he knew that now and he must have subconsciously known that even back then.
He didn’t want Lexie to have to go through that. He didn’t want Meredith to have to go through that. In some weird way he’s trying to protect the both of them and it may not be the most obvious way but no one’s ever called him a hero and he’d never wanted that title either.
“I should be getting inside,” she says finally, taking a step back. “Goodnight.”
She’s halfway to her door, with not a goodbye or a goodnight out of his mouth, before he offers, “If you need anything, call me.”
A slow, solemn nod is her only answer as she walks inside and he gets in his car and drives away.