so maybe i'm crazy (what are you then?) {mark/lexie}
No, the computer is still messed up. Getting on the internet is a nightmare. BUT. I am very, very determined so there will still be fic until this is fixed.
Title: So Maybe I'm Crazy (What Are You Then?)
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Lexie centric. Mostly revolves around Mark/Lexie, but there's a little bit of her relationship with Meredith here too.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 832
Author's Note: This is probably the flipside of Almost Crimes, at least I thought about this when I wrote that. So, anyways, I'll stop with the influx of Mark/Lexie soon, I promise. Also, hi, I do NOT write in 2nd person, and yet look what happened.
Summary: Spoilers for 5.20 - Sweet Surrender. There's this stupid skip in your step.
There’s this stupid skip in your step.
You feel a bit like a delusional teenager, sucking on lollipops as you skip down streets with another gaggle of girls in flowy dresses and skirts, and as your heels clack down the sidewalk, the smell of fresh cut grass in the air, you feel like you’re living in one of those stupid pop songs, something cheesy and sugary-sweet, probably popular in the late ‘90s, and at that point you feel like that’s a good thing. In fact, at the time, it was something you aspired to.
Except now you’re older. Not that twenty-four is old in any regard, but it’s old enough that moments like that only serve to make you cringe when you look back on them, wondering how you ever called those girls your friends, much less how you tolerated them, not to mention how you could’ve ever been so easily fooled into believing some junior year romance that bled into the summer was going to be your forever.
You’ve still got the skip though. You’ve still got it, and it reminds you of things you don’t wish to be reminded of, and it makes this whole thing feel like it’s going to disappear as soon as the leaves start to fall, if not earlier.
He talks in terms of the present. You’re pretty sure that’s supposed to be a good thing, with him, that he probably didn’t even bother with the talking part before, with whoever came before you. A series of one-night stands and that redhead doctor whose ex-husband is all but married to your sister (that’s history that you’ve inherited; that’s history that you can’t help), the one who kind of intimidates you, even if you smiled and pretended that you didn’t care, in fact that you enjoyed her company. You’re a better liar than they give you credit for, when it comes to these sorts of social gestures.
“But you’re happy?” Meredith keeps asking, like she’s making sure, like she’s trying to read into your body language and the tone of your words, the lilt, looking for the cue that’s going to let her know that, yes, things are going, have been going, downhill. You briefly entertain the idea that maybe she’s hoping for it. Maybe she needs to hear about other problems to stop herself from creating her own drama, because you have this theory that Meredith creates a lot of her own problems, so maybe fixating on someone else’s issues works as an outlet for her (you love her, most of the time, purely on the merit that she’s part of your family and you’re supposed to love her, and she’s trying, lately, but really, they could do case studies on her). Or maybe she just wants to know that she was right, and you have failed, and she was really just trying to protect you.
Either way, you still smile and say yes, everything’s wonderful, you might even love him. You think you love him. You’ve never said it to each other, because somehow the two of you have got to be the most drama free couple to ever exist, after the whole Derek debacle was solved, and this would fall under the category of dramatic declarations that would probably only occur slurred, after too much to drink at Joe’s. You’ve always been a big believer that actions speak louder than words anyways, and he fought for you, and he stopped being friends with his best friend for you, albeit briefly, and that’s enough for you to know that what he feels for you probably is rooted deeper than superficial attraction.
You smile, and say yes, and she looks at you a bit like she wonders how you could ever be with someone like Mark Sloan, and you look at her like you wonder how she could ever be with someone like Derek Shepherd, who hits rings with baseball bats, and you sort of do, but a lot of it’s just for show. And this is why the two of you are really just sisters in title only, because you’re missing that understanding, that feeling of camaraderie that generally comes with growing up together in the same house for years. It’s kind of sad, but you got over the delusion that the two of you would ever be that close months ago, and you’ve settled for worse.
It still bothers you, how much you can see in her eyes that she thinks she’s right, and how much something as simple as a look from him, across the hall, needy and beckoning, can get you to quicken your pace and lighten your step. It bothers you how much this feels like those high school romances, and how determined you are to make it into something else.
It bothers you, but you’re still along for the ride, in the hopes that it might be the greatest one you’ve ever been on, no matter how it turns out.
Title: So Maybe I'm Crazy (What Are You Then?)
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Lexie centric. Mostly revolves around Mark/Lexie, but there's a little bit of her relationship with Meredith here too.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 832
Author's Note: This is probably the flipside of Almost Crimes, at least I thought about this when I wrote that. So, anyways, I'll stop with the influx of Mark/Lexie soon, I promise. Also, hi, I do NOT write in 2nd person, and yet look what happened.
Summary: Spoilers for 5.20 - Sweet Surrender. There's this stupid skip in your step.
There’s this stupid skip in your step.
You feel a bit like a delusional teenager, sucking on lollipops as you skip down streets with another gaggle of girls in flowy dresses and skirts, and as your heels clack down the sidewalk, the smell of fresh cut grass in the air, you feel like you’re living in one of those stupid pop songs, something cheesy and sugary-sweet, probably popular in the late ‘90s, and at that point you feel like that’s a good thing. In fact, at the time, it was something you aspired to.
Except now you’re older. Not that twenty-four is old in any regard, but it’s old enough that moments like that only serve to make you cringe when you look back on them, wondering how you ever called those girls your friends, much less how you tolerated them, not to mention how you could’ve ever been so easily fooled into believing some junior year romance that bled into the summer was going to be your forever.
You’ve still got the skip though. You’ve still got it, and it reminds you of things you don’t wish to be reminded of, and it makes this whole thing feel like it’s going to disappear as soon as the leaves start to fall, if not earlier.
He talks in terms of the present. You’re pretty sure that’s supposed to be a good thing, with him, that he probably didn’t even bother with the talking part before, with whoever came before you. A series of one-night stands and that redhead doctor whose ex-husband is all but married to your sister (that’s history that you’ve inherited; that’s history that you can’t help), the one who kind of intimidates you, even if you smiled and pretended that you didn’t care, in fact that you enjoyed her company. You’re a better liar than they give you credit for, when it comes to these sorts of social gestures.
“But you’re happy?” Meredith keeps asking, like she’s making sure, like she’s trying to read into your body language and the tone of your words, the lilt, looking for the cue that’s going to let her know that, yes, things are going, have been going, downhill. You briefly entertain the idea that maybe she’s hoping for it. Maybe she needs to hear about other problems to stop herself from creating her own drama, because you have this theory that Meredith creates a lot of her own problems, so maybe fixating on someone else’s issues works as an outlet for her (you love her, most of the time, purely on the merit that she’s part of your family and you’re supposed to love her, and she’s trying, lately, but really, they could do case studies on her). Or maybe she just wants to know that she was right, and you have failed, and she was really just trying to protect you.
Either way, you still smile and say yes, everything’s wonderful, you might even love him. You think you love him. You’ve never said it to each other, because somehow the two of you have got to be the most drama free couple to ever exist, after the whole Derek debacle was solved, and this would fall under the category of dramatic declarations that would probably only occur slurred, after too much to drink at Joe’s. You’ve always been a big believer that actions speak louder than words anyways, and he fought for you, and he stopped being friends with his best friend for you, albeit briefly, and that’s enough for you to know that what he feels for you probably is rooted deeper than superficial attraction.
You smile, and say yes, and she looks at you a bit like she wonders how you could ever be with someone like Mark Sloan, and you look at her like you wonder how she could ever be with someone like Derek Shepherd, who hits rings with baseball bats, and you sort of do, but a lot of it’s just for show. And this is why the two of you are really just sisters in title only, because you’re missing that understanding, that feeling of camaraderie that generally comes with growing up together in the same house for years. It’s kind of sad, but you got over the delusion that the two of you would ever be that close months ago, and you’ve settled for worse.
It still bothers you, how much you can see in her eyes that she thinks she’s right, and how much something as simple as a look from him, across the hall, needy and beckoning, can get you to quicken your pace and lighten your step. It bothers you how much this feels like those high school romances, and how determined you are to make it into something else.
It bothers you, but you’re still along for the ride, in the hopes that it might be the greatest one you’ve ever been on, no matter how it turns out.