(no subject)
Title: Could It Be That You're Joking With Me (And You Don't Really See You With Me)
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: George/Lexie
Word Count: 817
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Post 4.16/4.17 - Freedom
Summary: It doesn't occur to her that maybe the red shirt she's wearing is too date night-ish until she's listening to him stick his key in the lock (and she did that on purpose, so she could hear him coming) and it's too late then.
It doesn’t occur to her that maybe the red shirt she’s wearing is too date night-ish until she’s listening to him stick his key in the lock (and she did that on purpose, so she could hear him coming) and it’s too late then.
Lexie didn’t think about her clothes. She knows that’s what most girls think of. The clothes, the hair, the five pounds of makeup to hide all their flaws. She has flaws, the difference is he knows hers, he lives her, they’ve both witnessed each other’s bad hair days and pet peeves firsthand, she thought about restocking the liquor in case this went wrong, and now she wishes she had.
She wore red last time though, the last time, the first time, and so that bodes well for her. It’s passion and love and sensuality and a bunch of other things she vaguely remembers learning from a film class she got stuck in second semester of freshman year. Like colors could invoke feelings. It didn’t work that way.
But back to that door and the turning knob and George who isn’t even looking at her as he walks in, shaking his head.
“It was the inferior vena cava. Not the superior.” He mutters, walking past her to drop his stuff on the couch.
She frowns, abandoning her smile in favor of, “What was?”
“The question.” Her eyebrows knit together even more, still confused. “The exam!”
“Oh.” Shit. She’d forgotten it was today. Somehow it had slipped her mind. She didn’t know how that was possible what with all the lead up and studying. “Oh, crap, I forgot. How was it?”
He holds out his hands with this look on his face that she guesses is meant to convey that it didn’t go well, or at least not as well as he’d hoped.
“Are you sure you’re not just nitpicking?” He looks taken aback. “You do that sometimes. Glass half empty. I mean was it just one question?”
“No.” He replies. “It was more than one.”
“Are you talking five or twenty?”
He actually has to think about that one. “Not twenty.”
“See? It’s not as bad as you think then.” She reassures, carefully.
“If I mess this up again...” he trails off, his sentence not really going anywhere anyway but there’s this pause, this moment of realization, then, “Wait is something going on tonight?”
Apparently he had seen the smile, he had noticed the house was cleaner than usual (which was saying something) and he was just now recognizing it. And he’s looking at her because he doesn’t know it isn’t a simple question and this expects a quick answer, and it makes her cross her arms over that ruby top like she’s suddenly scared that she’s shown her hand too early.
“Lexie?” He asks, coming a step closer, concern on his features.
She takes a deep breath, trying to remember how this went in her head, how she’d planned it out but it’s all gone now and if she stands here in the quiet any longer it’s going to be even more awkward than it already is. “Screw it,” she decides, unfortunately out loud. “I’m a confrontational person, not in the ‘I’ll fight in a bar’ kind of way but in the ‘if I have something to say I’ll say it’ kind of way. And I have something I want to say okay, so just listen.”
His lips convulse around her name but she holds a hand up to silence him.
“Just listen,” she says, more desperately. There, now that part is out of the way. Now it’s just a matter of actually saying it. “You kissed me. And I think you were probably just happy, in fact I’m almost sure of it, and that’s fine, that’s not the point. Not at all. Because you can be happy, happy is good, celebration is good and I like being part of that but...” she stops, veering off topic. Deep breaths, she reminds herself, deep breaths. “But I like you George. And I know that’s the least appealing way to say it and probably the last thing you want to hear today, but I do and I just thought you should know.”
That last syllable clips off at the end, swallowed up by his soft lips. He kisses her much deeper than last time. While last time was just a quick peck even that left her with the ghost of sensation on her own lips. And then there was this. She lets out a relieved sigh from the back of her throat, smiling against his mouth with one arm looped around his neck. It’s not the best kiss ever (they’re still getting used to each other) but it’s the one she wanted the most, and that makes it her favorite.
After that night she vows to wear more red. After all, it’s her lucky color.