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... )
“Look, I’m already nauseous enough without those things.”
Lexie eyes the Fresh Pine candle (it was seasonal, being that this was early December, and, you know, she’s never had anything against holidays - she’s never had a reason to…until right now) that's burning across the freaking room. Even Mark had gotten used to it.
She should take pity on the girl. She really should. But she won’t because tomorrow there will be something else and it’s not like she’s the only one being inconvenienced by this.
So. “Well, the smell of nail polish makes me queasy.”
“Yeah, but you’re not pregnant.”
No, she isn’t.
The candle keeps on burning and Sloan keeps on making slow, straight strokes with bright red fingernail polish.
-
There is a break here, colored in shades of anger, hurt, and all things Mark Sloan.
And then someone presses the replay button.
-
“Sloan.”
She opened the door exactly sixty-two seconds ago (she’s been counting, trying to regulate her breathing back into a pattern one would call normal; inhale, exhale, in through the nose, out through the mouth). Breathless only sounds like an exaggeration.
The way she says “hi” in this meek tone - it throws Lexie completely off base. She loses a reference point, somewhere.
She loses something when she opens the door.
It doesn’t take long to find it again.
“Oh god, not those things again.”
A whiff of the air reveals blue hydrangea somewhere in the apartment (this is a different apartment; that’s what’s important to remember). She smiles, briefly, and finds her footing through the look of disgust currently found on Sloan’s face.
-
It becomes a recurring thing, sense memory mixed with important memories.
Blue Hydrangea when Sloan makes her promise not to tell Mark that she’s in town.
(Lexie doesn’t. She does tell Meredith. And Alex. And almost Callie. Her sister, her sometimes lover, and her ex-boyfriend’s best female friend. She’s all over the map).
Pineapple Cilantro (“seriously, that doesn’t even sound nice,” and the accompanying eye roll) when Sloan tells her why she’s in town in the first place.
(Broke. Nowhere to go. Feeling a little lost. It’s all what she thought. Sloan can’t go to Mark because she left him in the lurch and she didn’t know who else to try. Once more with the pity, except this time she actually goes with it).
Lavender Vanilla, a week after she shows up, when she tells her that she can stay here until she figures out what to do next or until three months is up - whichever comes first.
(She also tells her to get a job, something which Sloan answers with “doing what?” and Lexie takes a deep breath and definitely does not imagine throwing herself out the fourth-floor window. Or throwing Sloan out that window.)
Cinnamon Stick the night they get totally shitfaced and half make-out on the couch in this overly desperate for attention sort of way that Lexie didn’t even know she was capable of.
(Alex laughs, later, because he hears about this too, and makes some comment about joining in or front row tickets to the chick fight or something equally infuriating).
Clean Cotton two weeks and three days later when they very poignantly hit the sheets, doing a whole assortment of things that have nothing to do with the word ‘clean’.
(Afterwards, Alex asks about the mark on her inner thigh, and when she passes Mark in the hallways and he completely ignores her she has half a mind to yell “I’m fucking your daughter” but thinks that would be too harsh).
Autumn Leaves, as the seasons change and three months are up.
(“But I’m doing better here” and Lexie thinks that word has come to have a strange definition).
Drift Away when she gives up on ever having the apartment to herself again.
(Sloan smiles.)
-
On her birthday, she comes home to find a box on her bed. She knows from the scrawl on the unsigned card it’s Sloan’s doing.
Inside? A scented candle.
It’s called Relax.
She laughs herself breathless.
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This is excellent, and it completely bewilders me that you can make this kind of thing work, and work well. You're too awesome for words.
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Yeah. For the record, those are all actual candles scents. Yankee Candle actually.
I'm glad you liked it hun! Thanks!
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