grabbing at the fray for something that won't drown {mark/lexie}
Title: Grabbing At The Fray For Something That Won't Drown
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Mark/Lexie,
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,024
Author's Note: So, yeah, I tried to stop, and then this happened at 1AM. Willpower = 0. Also, if this is overkill, well, blame it on my current mental state.
Summary:Spoilers for 5.21 - No Good At Saying Sorry. Just because she's acting like everything's fine, just because they had a nice dinner, does not mean that it all still doesn't sting a little
“He didn’t like me.”
Lexie slumps against the wall that her bed is pushed up against, a makeshift headboard that only lives up to it’s name when she misjudges the space between the pillow, the bed, and the wall, and slams her head into it, unclipping the barrette that’s holding her hair back in a style that she only realized in the ladies room of the restaurant just makes her look younger than she is, which really isn’t what she was or should be going for. “Yes he did.”
“Don’t try to make me feel better,” Mark replies, for his part seated on the edge of the bed, his jacket long since discarded, the shirt underneath it untucked and about half unbuttoned. With her knees pulled up to her chest, there’s a good foot or two of space between her feet and him, just an empty stretch of a comforter she was previously embarrassed by for the better part of two weeks, and she wonders if it’s an intentional barrier between them or not. It makes her stretch out her legs, tentatively, until her toes just brush his hip, and he doesn’t move away, so she’s just apparently in the mood to over-think everything. “I told you, dads don’t like me.”
“You know how I’m usually the one who overreacts?” He raises an eyebrow in her direction. “Apparently it’s your turn.”
“He thought I was too old for you.”
“He never said anything.” And, okay, he didn’t exactly say anything to that effect, but he did say one or two things, and maybe look at Mark kind of funny once, and god knows what they talked about during the five minutes that she was in the restroom, so she’s really only right on the basis of a technicality. “Other than when he asked if you were my teacher, which you are anyways, so it’s not like he was wrong. He was just…confused.”
Mark looks vaguely amused by her ability to stumble over both her words and her point, and he twists and reaches and breaks the barrier of space when he kisses her, his hand cradling her neck, thumb tracing the line of her jaw, and this essentially could be the point where she just lets this go and writes it off as the kind of social event that Mark doesn’t do well at, but this is her boyfriend and her father, and she really kind of wants them to get along. She just got her dad back, and wherever her and Mark are is a really good place, and it would be nice if those two things lived together in some sort of harmony.
So she kisses him back, for just long enough that he’s working his hands up under her shirt while his tongue tangles with hers, and then she pulls back, her head knocking against that damn wall, thankfully not hard enough to hurt. And then she starts talking, fully aware that when she starts on these tangents it’s pretty hard to stop.
“I always dated the geeks. And not the ones whose entire lives were their books or their computers or whatever. Just the good guys who maybe people didn’t really ever see, who thought there was more to Friday nights than getting drunk or high at Tiffany Silver’s house. And they weren’t the best of the bunch, but they were the guys I felt comfortable with because I didn’t have to try so hard. I mean, I was prom queen - prom queens date football players, not the guy the football players taunt. So those were the kind of guys I brought home, and those are the kind of guys my father is used to seeing me with. And you’re different.”
He frowns; his hand is still on her neck. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”
Lexie bites her lip, trying to organize her thoughts into something more coherent. “A guy who looks like you isn’t supposed to act like you. Or…act like you do with me. You aren’t supposed to have a personality, or a heart for that matter. So maybe he was just worried about me.” None of this is coming out right, she can tell already, but she can’t seem to fix it either. “It’s been a long time since he’s seen me, and the last guy he even saw me with was Alex, so maybe he thought I changed. Maybe he thought I changed what I wanted. But I don’t think he didn’t like you. And I don’t care if he didn’t like you, because I like you.”
“You do.” Mark cuts in. “You do, or you wouldn’t be making speeches at one in the morning.”
She ducks her head, and his chin just touches the top of her head when she does. It’s there, staring at that crappy comforter, centimeters away from him, that she can breathe, figure out what she wants to say next, before she looks back up at him again. “You showed up. And he hasn’t…my dad hasn’t been there for me when I needed him since my mom died. But you were. So if anyone has the higher ground here, if anyone should be feeling bad, it’s him, because you’ve never hurt me the way he’s hurt me, and he’s my own father, and I shouldn’t be able to say that about him.”
It’s here that she breaks, just a little, like she did in the Chief’s office earlier that day. She hadn’t meant to, she’d only wanted to say her piece and get it out there, but things haven’t gone as planned for her in quite a while, so she should be used to it by now. She isn’t. She isn’t and she’s crying, and she finds herself thankful for things like waterproof mascara and the arms that wrapped around her at some point in time that she doesn’t remember, because she’s crying into the fabric of his button-down and he might be saying something that she can’t process beyond the tone.
But he’s there. He’s there, and that’s kind of all she needs these days.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Mark/Lexie,
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,024
Author's Note: So, yeah, I tried to stop, and then this happened at 1AM. Willpower = 0. Also, if this is overkill, well, blame it on my current mental state.
Summary:Spoilers for 5.21 - No Good At Saying Sorry. Just because she's acting like everything's fine, just because they had a nice dinner, does not mean that it all still doesn't sting a little
“He didn’t like me.”
Lexie slumps against the wall that her bed is pushed up against, a makeshift headboard that only lives up to it’s name when she misjudges the space between the pillow, the bed, and the wall, and slams her head into it, unclipping the barrette that’s holding her hair back in a style that she only realized in the ladies room of the restaurant just makes her look younger than she is, which really isn’t what she was or should be going for. “Yes he did.”
“Don’t try to make me feel better,” Mark replies, for his part seated on the edge of the bed, his jacket long since discarded, the shirt underneath it untucked and about half unbuttoned. With her knees pulled up to her chest, there’s a good foot or two of space between her feet and him, just an empty stretch of a comforter she was previously embarrassed by for the better part of two weeks, and she wonders if it’s an intentional barrier between them or not. It makes her stretch out her legs, tentatively, until her toes just brush his hip, and he doesn’t move away, so she’s just apparently in the mood to over-think everything. “I told you, dads don’t like me.”
“You know how I’m usually the one who overreacts?” He raises an eyebrow in her direction. “Apparently it’s your turn.”
“He thought I was too old for you.”
“He never said anything.” And, okay, he didn’t exactly say anything to that effect, but he did say one or two things, and maybe look at Mark kind of funny once, and god knows what they talked about during the five minutes that she was in the restroom, so she’s really only right on the basis of a technicality. “Other than when he asked if you were my teacher, which you are anyways, so it’s not like he was wrong. He was just…confused.”
Mark looks vaguely amused by her ability to stumble over both her words and her point, and he twists and reaches and breaks the barrier of space when he kisses her, his hand cradling her neck, thumb tracing the line of her jaw, and this essentially could be the point where she just lets this go and writes it off as the kind of social event that Mark doesn’t do well at, but this is her boyfriend and her father, and she really kind of wants them to get along. She just got her dad back, and wherever her and Mark are is a really good place, and it would be nice if those two things lived together in some sort of harmony.
So she kisses him back, for just long enough that he’s working his hands up under her shirt while his tongue tangles with hers, and then she pulls back, her head knocking against that damn wall, thankfully not hard enough to hurt. And then she starts talking, fully aware that when she starts on these tangents it’s pretty hard to stop.
“I always dated the geeks. And not the ones whose entire lives were their books or their computers or whatever. Just the good guys who maybe people didn’t really ever see, who thought there was more to Friday nights than getting drunk or high at Tiffany Silver’s house. And they weren’t the best of the bunch, but they were the guys I felt comfortable with because I didn’t have to try so hard. I mean, I was prom queen - prom queens date football players, not the guy the football players taunt. So those were the kind of guys I brought home, and those are the kind of guys my father is used to seeing me with. And you’re different.”
He frowns; his hand is still on her neck. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”
Lexie bites her lip, trying to organize her thoughts into something more coherent. “A guy who looks like you isn’t supposed to act like you. Or…act like you do with me. You aren’t supposed to have a personality, or a heart for that matter. So maybe he was just worried about me.” None of this is coming out right, she can tell already, but she can’t seem to fix it either. “It’s been a long time since he’s seen me, and the last guy he even saw me with was Alex, so maybe he thought I changed. Maybe he thought I changed what I wanted. But I don’t think he didn’t like you. And I don’t care if he didn’t like you, because I like you.”
“You do.” Mark cuts in. “You do, or you wouldn’t be making speeches at one in the morning.”
She ducks her head, and his chin just touches the top of her head when she does. It’s there, staring at that crappy comforter, centimeters away from him, that she can breathe, figure out what she wants to say next, before she looks back up at him again. “You showed up. And he hasn’t…my dad hasn’t been there for me when I needed him since my mom died. But you were. So if anyone has the higher ground here, if anyone should be feeling bad, it’s him, because you’ve never hurt me the way he’s hurt me, and he’s my own father, and I shouldn’t be able to say that about him.”
It’s here that she breaks, just a little, like she did in the Chief’s office earlier that day. She hadn’t meant to, she’d only wanted to say her piece and get it out there, but things haven’t gone as planned for her in quite a while, so she should be used to it by now. She isn’t. She isn’t and she’s crying, and she finds herself thankful for things like waterproof mascara and the arms that wrapped around her at some point in time that she doesn’t remember, because she’s crying into the fabric of his button-down and he might be saying something that she can’t process beyond the tone.
But he’s there. He’s there, and that’s kind of all she needs these days.