prompts to help me avoid killing someone
I'm posting fic later today and I'm so pissed with the bathroom remodeler (who really isn't doing his job, just talking on his phone, as it turns out) I can't see straight BUT
I'm taking prompts. Standard format: fandom, pairing, word/song lyric/situationFandoms: Grey's, TBBT, some Lost (keeping in my mind that I haven't seen seen S6), umm... ( Read more... )
I'm taking prompts. Standard format: fandom, pairing, word/song lyric/situationFandoms: Grey's, TBBT, some Lost (keeping in my mind that I haven't seen seen S6), umm... ( Read more... )
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Owen has gone through much of life with a cut and dry understanding of things: if it doesn’t work, fix it so that it does - at any cost. If you can’t save the leg, amputate the leg and save the whole body. If you can’t fix that chair, throw it away.
If you can’t fix the relationship, leave it.
Sometimes, that’s just how it goes.
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Lexie, you know, has always fought these things to the bitter end - she’s always beaten the dead horse. There’s always one more excuse, one more declaration, one more reason, one more stitch. She’s a little bit like her sister in that respect, she’s found.
But this Lexie? The one with the blonde hair and the ‘want, take, have’ mentality? She’s open to new ways of doing things.
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Break, de-align, push aside.
“Teddy’s got Jackson on her service; I can help if you need a resident.”One before the other, and it’s second place but it’s still last place. Cristina’s smug, so sure that she’s got this.
“Dr. Hunt, I can - “ and it’s not that Lexie’s following, it’s just that she hears the word ‘surgery’ and her ears perk up.
“You’re in.” There is a pointed way that he doesn’t look at Cristina at all. “I could use some fresh blood.”
At the time, it was coincidence. Right time, right place.
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After the first week, the first case, the sentiment stops holding true.
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Maybe Cristina’s eyes glare holes in her back, from high up in the gallery.
“Grey, I need an extra pair of hands here.”
(Not Little Grey. Not Lexie. Just Grey. We’re back here again, and there’s some comfort in that).
Who’s looking at you and why doesn’t matter so much when you’re wrist deep in someone’s body and there’s a clamp in your hand - someone’s life in your hands.
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The first time he asks her out for drinks, she says no.
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The second time she sleeps with him.
Willpower is, obviously, something she is still working on.
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“You and Cristina aren’t still - “ she blushes fiercely and - what was that old saying? If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.
She feels a little stupid for thinking of that just now. She feels even stupider for stumbling over her words.
“It wasn’t working,” he replies, with an air of dismissiveness that she’s fairly sure he doesn’t feel.
“Yeah.” Her fingers skim down his stomach; she’s always been hands-on. “Neither were Mark and I.”
Except they were. For awhile. And then they weren’t.
Then they burned down everything they’d struggled to build.
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He really used to be one for long, serious relationships. He even used to be good at it.
And then -
Owen thinks reality happened. Owen thinks Iraq happened. Owen thinks perspective happened.
He can say ‘forever’ but the word feels empty.
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Idly, she wonders if she stops from getting too close, then maybe she can stop this from going up in flames.
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Thank you!
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I'm glad you liked it hun! Thanks!
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I'm glad you liked this! Thanks for reading and reviewing!
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