hysterics {ga - lexie/meredith}
Title: Hysterics
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Meredith/Lexie.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,517
Author's Note: This is ALL mrsvc's fault. And Twitter's.
Summary: Post ep for "Push". Lexie's heart lives in her vagina; Meredith proves it.
Let’s just go ahead and preface this with a fact: Meredith’s not stupid.
Wait, no, rewind, strikethrough, and start with this: Many people would call this stupid. This - whatever she does. Many people would look at it, from this base, surface point of view, and think that she, the both of them, this, was stupid. By many, she pretty much means everyone except maybe Alex, who would probably somehow end up turned on by it, and possibly Cristina, who could be coerced into something approaching understanding if Meredith explained it enough times - they are best friends for a reason after all.
You see, there’s logic to be found here - copious amounts of it, actually, from where she’s standing - it’s just that people don’t live inside of her head and so it’s harder for them to understand how this qualifies as logical progression to her.
Meredith’s not stupid.
Her feet follow an imaginary line from the sinks to the door and Lexie doesn’t even look up once between the time it takes her to cross the room and wrap her arms around her sister’s shaking shoulders. Lexie’s hands fist in Meredith’s scrubs and her head moves from her knee to Meredith’s shoulder. It’s not really tears with Lexie, so much as this sort of violent sobbing thing, labored breathing that’s just this side of hyperventilating and red-rimmed eyes and lots of rocking back and forth like that might fix something.
Meredith understands this because she’s done this. Several times. Once in a damn closet with a bag and Derek’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. It’s how she knows to let her hand settle on the back of Lexie’s neck, rubbing circles on the bare skin there, lips to her temple. Lexie sniffles and gives what feels like a nod, some kind of agreement or encouragement, and Meredith presses them against her forehead this time, listening to Lexie’s breathing even out with each movement.
So she keeps doing it. Lips to her temple, forehead, other temple, cheek, corner of her mouth. She is aware that as long as she stops right there, it could be likened to a perfectly normal way of comforting someone. She almost settles back on her heels on the cold floor, almost disentangles herself and says something like ‘it’ll pass’ or ‘just breathe’ or ‘want to share a bottle of tequila’. Except her mind gets stuck trying to decide which to go with, if any, and her body follows the pattern it’s already set in place and when her lips brush Lexie’s there just really is no going back.
They connect. It’s chaste, at first, comes with the territory of accidentally-on-purpose, but when Meredith pulls back the inch and a half that she needs to breathe, reassess, maybe gauge a reaction, Lexie’s hand tangles in her hair and draws her back in. Which is what one would call consent and that’s all that Meredith needs to rationalize what she does next.
If you asked her, years ago when Lexie first showed up and she was the overeager thorn in Meredith’s side, the girl she wanted nothing to do with for reasons having nothing to do with her and everything to do with past wounds, Meredith would’ve said they had nothing in common. There were no strings connecting them, no shared ground, shared traits, pretty much anything with the word ‘shared’ in it really; they were just people who had similar DNA through nothing but pure chance. The ties that bind were irrelevant.
Now, she knows this isn’t true. She knows that her and Lexie have far more in common than is preferable, from the near-hyperventilating to the newly blonde hair to the fondness for tequila. She understands this thing with her and Alex, and all the ways it could lead her down the wrong path, because she’s done the whole coping through sexual encounters with various, extremely ill-advised, men.
She tells her that her heart is in her vagina, because she also knows that one major difference between her and Lexie is that she can pull off the sex with random people thing because she can shut off the part of herself that gets attached. And Lexie can’t. Lexie falls in lust, then love, and Lexie makes plans. Her heart is in her vagina and her heart is a broken-up mess right now and somehow it all falls into place in Meredith’s mind in such a way that’s got her tongue in Lexie’s mouth and her hands greedily pushing underneath her shirt.
The way to her heart.
If this, then that.
Lexie gives a little moan and her cheeks are still damp but the shaky sobs seem to have been exchanged for this nervous hum of energy that’s got her practically vibrating underneath Meredith’s hands. The ‘we’re actually doing this’ kind of hum, like she’s excited or something - it makes Meredith think of her too bright smile the half second after Meredith hugs her, under normal, non-crying induced, circumstances; there’s this certain way her face will light up, like it’s the acceptance or the reassurance that she needs that there is something there and they aren’t the sort of arms-length acquaintances they were when this started - and it occurs to her that there should at least be some form of hesitation here, on someone’s end, some moral debate.
There isn’t. Instead, there’s Meredith’s hands drawing shapes on Lexie’s inner thigh through her scrub bottoms and wondering if there’s a lock on the bathroom door (she isn’t going to think about the floor underneath, she’s not going to think about it at all - okay, so she’s thinking about it). Instead there’s Lexie kind of mewling in anticipation and letting her head fall back against the wooden door, shifting her hips much in the way that she insists she would really rather they be closer, thanks very much.
And since this is all about Lexie, at least the original intent was, she gets what she wants as Meredith eases her bottoms and her underwear off her hips in one continuous movement and slips two fingers between her thighs. She has to swallow the moan Lexie makes, maneuvers so that there’s just enough space between them for her hand to keep moving, feeling Lexie twist her hips, looking for more and closer. Meredith gives a sort of laugh against her sister’s mouth.
Her sister. Half-sister. It’s not like Meredith’s ever had a normal love life.
So she goes with it. The heel of her hand bumps Lexie’s clit and her fingers curl upward and she knows when she hits the spot Lexie wants her to by the way she arches.
“Come on,” Meredith murmurs, speeds up and keeps on going straight through Lexie’s orgasm. There is another moan mixed with a whimper as she does, heavy breathing of a different kind than they started with undercutting it, and when her head lolls back against the door again, eyes closed, Meredith slips her fingers out of her. She repositions herself next to Lexie against the door and as she does Lexie’s hand reaches out to fall on Meredith’s leg, keeping contact like she needs it.
She nods, even if Lexie isn’t looking.
“It’s okay.”
You see, Meredith’s not going to abandon her. She’s not going to walk away and continue on with this no feelings thing. She loves her sister, in a different way than maybe Lexie’s been searching for, but the sentiment is still there. Loves, cares, some days even needs. She is safe and Lexie needs safe, needs someone who isn’t going to bruise or bury her.
After a while, and by that she probably means a span of time that amounts to a little over a minute, Lexie leans against her a little
“That was ridiculous,” she says, giving little shaky laughs all throughout it, bypassing the standard awkwardness.
Meredith nods and her head rests against Lexie’s for the briefest of moments. “Feeling better?”
“I don’t even know how to answer that question.”
“Well the crying’s stopped, so that’s a good sign.”
“Yeah,” Lexie concedes, her voice brightening a little. “I guess it is.”
They’re silent for a beat, before Meredith rises, washes her hands and runs cold water over her face - she’s turned on, you know, but this isn’t about her and she’s got other things to do and think about, so this’ll have to suffice. “You know this means I was right,” Meredith tells her, watching Lexie from the mirror.
“Right about what?”
“Your heart’s in your vagina.”
Completely par for the course, Lexie balks at this once more. “It is not. I don’t know how you keep coming to that conclusion.”
“Okay,” she says, to the mirror, but she’s smiling nonetheless. Lexie will figure it out eventually. She’ll be fine. If she’s anything like Meredith (and, as we’ve already established, she is) then she’ll recover, spring back. And if Meredith can find happiness then so can she.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Meredith/Lexie.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,517
Author's Note: This is ALL mrsvc's fault. And Twitter's.
Summary: Post ep for "Push". Lexie's heart lives in her vagina; Meredith proves it.
Let’s just go ahead and preface this with a fact: Meredith’s not stupid.
Wait, no, rewind, strikethrough, and start with this: Many people would call this stupid. This - whatever she does. Many people would look at it, from this base, surface point of view, and think that she, the both of them, this, was stupid. By many, she pretty much means everyone except maybe Alex, who would probably somehow end up turned on by it, and possibly Cristina, who could be coerced into something approaching understanding if Meredith explained it enough times - they are best friends for a reason after all.
You see, there’s logic to be found here - copious amounts of it, actually, from where she’s standing - it’s just that people don’t live inside of her head and so it’s harder for them to understand how this qualifies as logical progression to her.
Meredith’s not stupid.
Her feet follow an imaginary line from the sinks to the door and Lexie doesn’t even look up once between the time it takes her to cross the room and wrap her arms around her sister’s shaking shoulders. Lexie’s hands fist in Meredith’s scrubs and her head moves from her knee to Meredith’s shoulder. It’s not really tears with Lexie, so much as this sort of violent sobbing thing, labored breathing that’s just this side of hyperventilating and red-rimmed eyes and lots of rocking back and forth like that might fix something.
Meredith understands this because she’s done this. Several times. Once in a damn closet with a bag and Derek’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. It’s how she knows to let her hand settle on the back of Lexie’s neck, rubbing circles on the bare skin there, lips to her temple. Lexie sniffles and gives what feels like a nod, some kind of agreement or encouragement, and Meredith presses them against her forehead this time, listening to Lexie’s breathing even out with each movement.
So she keeps doing it. Lips to her temple, forehead, other temple, cheek, corner of her mouth. She is aware that as long as she stops right there, it could be likened to a perfectly normal way of comforting someone. She almost settles back on her heels on the cold floor, almost disentangles herself and says something like ‘it’ll pass’ or ‘just breathe’ or ‘want to share a bottle of tequila’. Except her mind gets stuck trying to decide which to go with, if any, and her body follows the pattern it’s already set in place and when her lips brush Lexie’s there just really is no going back.
They connect. It’s chaste, at first, comes with the territory of accidentally-on-purpose, but when Meredith pulls back the inch and a half that she needs to breathe, reassess, maybe gauge a reaction, Lexie’s hand tangles in her hair and draws her back in. Which is what one would call consent and that’s all that Meredith needs to rationalize what she does next.
If you asked her, years ago when Lexie first showed up and she was the overeager thorn in Meredith’s side, the girl she wanted nothing to do with for reasons having nothing to do with her and everything to do with past wounds, Meredith would’ve said they had nothing in common. There were no strings connecting them, no shared ground, shared traits, pretty much anything with the word ‘shared’ in it really; they were just people who had similar DNA through nothing but pure chance. The ties that bind were irrelevant.
Now, she knows this isn’t true. She knows that her and Lexie have far more in common than is preferable, from the near-hyperventilating to the newly blonde hair to the fondness for tequila. She understands this thing with her and Alex, and all the ways it could lead her down the wrong path, because she’s done the whole coping through sexual encounters with various, extremely ill-advised, men.
She tells her that her heart is in her vagina, because she also knows that one major difference between her and Lexie is that she can pull off the sex with random people thing because she can shut off the part of herself that gets attached. And Lexie can’t. Lexie falls in lust, then love, and Lexie makes plans. Her heart is in her vagina and her heart is a broken-up mess right now and somehow it all falls into place in Meredith’s mind in such a way that’s got her tongue in Lexie’s mouth and her hands greedily pushing underneath her shirt.
The way to her heart.
If this, then that.
Lexie gives a little moan and her cheeks are still damp but the shaky sobs seem to have been exchanged for this nervous hum of energy that’s got her practically vibrating underneath Meredith’s hands. The ‘we’re actually doing this’ kind of hum, like she’s excited or something - it makes Meredith think of her too bright smile the half second after Meredith hugs her, under normal, non-crying induced, circumstances; there’s this certain way her face will light up, like it’s the acceptance or the reassurance that she needs that there is something there and they aren’t the sort of arms-length acquaintances they were when this started - and it occurs to her that there should at least be some form of hesitation here, on someone’s end, some moral debate.
There isn’t. Instead, there’s Meredith’s hands drawing shapes on Lexie’s inner thigh through her scrub bottoms and wondering if there’s a lock on the bathroom door (she isn’t going to think about the floor underneath, she’s not going to think about it at all - okay, so she’s thinking about it). Instead there’s Lexie kind of mewling in anticipation and letting her head fall back against the wooden door, shifting her hips much in the way that she insists she would really rather they be closer, thanks very much.
And since this is all about Lexie, at least the original intent was, she gets what she wants as Meredith eases her bottoms and her underwear off her hips in one continuous movement and slips two fingers between her thighs. She has to swallow the moan Lexie makes, maneuvers so that there’s just enough space between them for her hand to keep moving, feeling Lexie twist her hips, looking for more and closer. Meredith gives a sort of laugh against her sister’s mouth.
Her sister. Half-sister. It’s not like Meredith’s ever had a normal love life.
So she goes with it. The heel of her hand bumps Lexie’s clit and her fingers curl upward and she knows when she hits the spot Lexie wants her to by the way she arches.
“Come on,” Meredith murmurs, speeds up and keeps on going straight through Lexie’s orgasm. There is another moan mixed with a whimper as she does, heavy breathing of a different kind than they started with undercutting it, and when her head lolls back against the door again, eyes closed, Meredith slips her fingers out of her. She repositions herself next to Lexie against the door and as she does Lexie’s hand reaches out to fall on Meredith’s leg, keeping contact like she needs it.
She nods, even if Lexie isn’t looking.
“It’s okay.”
You see, Meredith’s not going to abandon her. She’s not going to walk away and continue on with this no feelings thing. She loves her sister, in a different way than maybe Lexie’s been searching for, but the sentiment is still there. Loves, cares, some days even needs. She is safe and Lexie needs safe, needs someone who isn’t going to bruise or bury her.
After a while, and by that she probably means a span of time that amounts to a little over a minute, Lexie leans against her a little
“That was ridiculous,” she says, giving little shaky laughs all throughout it, bypassing the standard awkwardness.
Meredith nods and her head rests against Lexie’s for the briefest of moments. “Feeling better?”
“I don’t even know how to answer that question.”
“Well the crying’s stopped, so that’s a good sign.”
“Yeah,” Lexie concedes, her voice brightening a little. “I guess it is.”
They’re silent for a beat, before Meredith rises, washes her hands and runs cold water over her face - she’s turned on, you know, but this isn’t about her and she’s got other things to do and think about, so this’ll have to suffice. “You know this means I was right,” Meredith tells her, watching Lexie from the mirror.
“Right about what?”
“Your heart’s in your vagina.”
Completely par for the course, Lexie balks at this once more. “It is not. I don’t know how you keep coming to that conclusion.”
“Okay,” she says, to the mirror, but she’s smiling nonetheless. Lexie will figure it out eventually. She’ll be fine. If she’s anything like Meredith (and, as we’ve already established, she is) then she’ll recover, spring back. And if Meredith can find happiness then so can she.