a time when you get homesick (even when you're home), Alex/Lexie, PG
Title: a time when you get homesick (even when you're home)
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Alex/Lexie
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: only for saccharine
Word Count: 1150 approx
Summary: “Do you get unborn babies a present?”
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual. All song-lyrics mentioned belong to their respective owners, not to me.
Author’s Note: FOR MY GORGEOUS rorylie WHO PROMPTED babies + Christmas
“Do you get unborn babies a present?” she whispers to him, her ankle linked over his knee, the central heating kicking in with low groans in the pipes beneath their bed.
“Not when they’re due in April.”
“Hm.”
“What would you even get them?”
“Baby things…” she says, smiling. “Shoes and hats… Blankets…” She wrinkles her nose. “Just tiny things.”
“Right, right.” He turns in towards her, kissing her and then rolling over. “They don’t even need that stuff yet,” he mumbles into the pillow.
She nods, “No, you’re right. It’s stupid. Don’t even know what colour to get yet.”
“Exactly.”
“Although…”
“Mm?”
“You can get some pretty cute gender-neutral things. Like, in yellow or orange or something.”
“Dudes don’t have orange things.”
---
Lexie had a gingerbread house in her Christmases, he assumes.
He’s watching her sleep right now, her body stretched gracelessly over the covers. And he doesn’t know but he swears he can smell it on her clothes; good food, good people. A warm fire crackling behind her head, her mother’s hand tight in her dad’s, Molly covered in wrapping paper. And Lexie walking her fingers through this gingerbread house, traipsing over the icing borders, tiptoeing over the candy canes. All of this linked between the fibres of her sweaters.
He got her a tree. He did that, at least. It’s plastic and it only comes up to your knee but if you put it on a table and put presents under it, it’s pretty much the same, right?
---
Lexie hums Christmas songs into her scarf as she walks to the hospital.
---
She buys these candles one morning in the gift shop, meant to make your house smell like cinnamon.
“That’s Christmassy, right?” she says, holding it to Meredith’s nose.
“I guess.”
“Mm. I like it.” She winces, holding her stomach. “But apparently she doesn’t.”
Meredith laughs. “What are we doing here, Lex?”
“We’re just-- we’re wasting time…Looking for candles.” It’s wonderful, this unsaid thing between sisters. Even half ones. But ultimately: I want a Christmas that I can’t have gets said between held breaths and raised eyebrows.
“Hey,” Meredith opens a box. “Spiced… Apple?”
Lexie smiles. “It’s nice.”
“How many?”
---
Yes, it’s a given. His Christmas was different.
His dad wasn’t there for the present bit, would usually- if at all- roll in sometime in the afternoon just to fall asleep on the couch. His mom would tuck herself in the curves of his legs like she was making a nest there and rest her palm on his side. When he moved, so did she.
“Let him sleep,” she’d say to them all, and then to empty air when they went to bed. “Just let him sleep.”
“Is mom crying?” Aaron would whisper, appearing right at the side of his bed.
“No, it’s just the TV-- She’s always watching those kind of films.”
“At Christmas?”
“Yeah.”
When he was sure his brother was asleep, he’d go sit on the stairs. He’d go listen to his dad snoring and his mom crying and he’d rock back and forth in his own silence. He’d rock back and forth until he fell asleep right there; in a heap, found in the morning by dim sunlight.
If life was a film- which it’s not, never has been- Lexie would be the cute neighbour that invited him through her bedroom window and his dad would dress up like Santa and his mom’s mascara wouldn’t run.
---
“You didn’t have to.”
“It’s a tree, Lex. It’s nothing--”
She punches him in the arm. “Shut up, it’s ours.” She smiles. “It’s a great tree. The best.”
He slumps on the bed. “Can’t believe you’re into this stuff.”
Her fingers reach out and brush the fake foliage, tinsel tickling against her wrist. “I can’t believe you’re not.” She starts to walk over to the window.
“It just wasn’t a big deal in my house.”
She’s pulling the curtains closed and smoothing out the creases. She misses the lights on her windowsill, the crappy decorations she used to put over picture frames. She misses them, but it’s kind of understood that with bad childhoods come bad holidays and she’s not going to press the issue. She doesn’t miss them that much.
“You gonna sit sometime tonight?” he says, from under tired eyes.
“…Mmhm.”
“But not yet?”
She sighs, something out of a film-of-the-week, “Not yet.”
---
“That song’s stuck in your head too?”
“What?”
“It was on right before we left the house-- I’ve been singing that fricking carol all day.”
“Oh right-- Yeah. Me too. So annoying.”
---
“I’m getting so huge.”
She’s curled into him, the baby pressing against his arm. Her breathing’s getting heavy, her eyelids even heavier.
“You have a baby in there.”
“And four tonnes of Christmas cake.” She grumbles into his chest, “Stupid nurses…”
He’s looking right ahead when wings and a halo creep into his peripheral view. He moves his foot slightly to get a better view. “You put an angel on it?”
Yawning, “It’s a tree-- It has to have an angel.”
He laughs under his breath. “Where’d you even get it?”
She closes her eyes again. “I, uh, I borrowed it from my dad. He doesn’t use it. My mom made it.”
“It’s pretty cute.”
“Mm,” she sighs. “She was really good at that kind of thing.”
---
“Mer’s invited us for Christmas,” she says, watching every reactive inch of his face.
He doesn’t look up. “We live with her. Isn’t that kind of weird?”
“Well, she’s invited us down-- you know, for dinner.” She’s checking her hair in the mirror now, still looking over at him. “Her and Derek are trying to start traditions.”
“Right,” he gets up, kissing her on the cheek, smoothing his hand over her stomach at the same time.
“We’re going?”
“It’s downstairs, Lex.”
She turns to face him, silently checking him over. You know this means we’re- us, you and me- part of the tradition now?
“Hey, who am I to turn down free food?”
She sighs with relief. Yes, family will always mean something to Lexie Grey.
---
"You look good," she smiles, flicking the reindeer antlers on his head. Because working with kids is working with festive accessories. "Very Christmassy."
He looks up from his chart. "Don't get used to it."
"I won't," she grins.
He snaps them back against the sides of her head. "You look cute as Rudolph."
"I don't have a red nose," she mumbles. "I'll be Blitzen."
He stares at her. "Whatever you want."
---
She’s rolled over now, her breath on his neck. Smell of peppermint candy canes in her hair, tucked up just under his nose.
The clock blinks 12:01.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Mm?” She moves onto her back, rubbing her eyes. “What’s that?”
He smirks. “Mistletoe.”
“I’m your girlfriend, Alex. And I’m pregnant. You can kiss me anytime you want--”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to do something here.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She smiles when he leans in, her hands cupping his face- he kisses her, feeling her grin against his mouth.
“We’ll get a big tree next year.”
“I like our tree.”
“It’s crappy--”
“I like it.”
He groans. “So we’ll get two crappy trees, kind of the same as one good one.”
She kisses him again, smile stretching out against his lips.
“Merry Christmas, Lex”
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Alex/Lexie
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: only for saccharine
Word Count: 1150 approx
Summary: “Do you get unborn babies a present?”
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual. All song-lyrics mentioned belong to their respective owners, not to me.
Author’s Note: FOR MY GORGEOUS rorylie WHO PROMPTED babies + Christmas
“Do you get unborn babies a present?” she whispers to him, her ankle linked over his knee, the central heating kicking in with low groans in the pipes beneath their bed.
“Not when they’re due in April.”
“Hm.”
“What would you even get them?”
“Baby things…” she says, smiling. “Shoes and hats… Blankets…” She wrinkles her nose. “Just tiny things.”
“Right, right.” He turns in towards her, kissing her and then rolling over. “They don’t even need that stuff yet,” he mumbles into the pillow.
She nods, “No, you’re right. It’s stupid. Don’t even know what colour to get yet.”
“Exactly.”
“Although…”
“Mm?”
“You can get some pretty cute gender-neutral things. Like, in yellow or orange or something.”
“Dudes don’t have orange things.”
---
Lexie had a gingerbread house in her Christmases, he assumes.
He’s watching her sleep right now, her body stretched gracelessly over the covers. And he doesn’t know but he swears he can smell it on her clothes; good food, good people. A warm fire crackling behind her head, her mother’s hand tight in her dad’s, Molly covered in wrapping paper. And Lexie walking her fingers through this gingerbread house, traipsing over the icing borders, tiptoeing over the candy canes. All of this linked between the fibres of her sweaters.
He got her a tree. He did that, at least. It’s plastic and it only comes up to your knee but if you put it on a table and put presents under it, it’s pretty much the same, right?
---
Lexie hums Christmas songs into her scarf as she walks to the hospital.
---
She buys these candles one morning in the gift shop, meant to make your house smell like cinnamon.
“That’s Christmassy, right?” she says, holding it to Meredith’s nose.
“I guess.”
“Mm. I like it.” She winces, holding her stomach. “But apparently she doesn’t.”
Meredith laughs. “What are we doing here, Lex?”
“We’re just-- we’re wasting time…Looking for candles.” It’s wonderful, this unsaid thing between sisters. Even half ones. But ultimately: I want a Christmas that I can’t have gets said between held breaths and raised eyebrows.
“Hey,” Meredith opens a box. “Spiced… Apple?”
Lexie smiles. “It’s nice.”
“How many?”
---
Yes, it’s a given. His Christmas was different.
His dad wasn’t there for the present bit, would usually- if at all- roll in sometime in the afternoon just to fall asleep on the couch. His mom would tuck herself in the curves of his legs like she was making a nest there and rest her palm on his side. When he moved, so did she.
“Let him sleep,” she’d say to them all, and then to empty air when they went to bed. “Just let him sleep.”
“Is mom crying?” Aaron would whisper, appearing right at the side of his bed.
“No, it’s just the TV-- She’s always watching those kind of films.”
“At Christmas?”
“Yeah.”
When he was sure his brother was asleep, he’d go sit on the stairs. He’d go listen to his dad snoring and his mom crying and he’d rock back and forth in his own silence. He’d rock back and forth until he fell asleep right there; in a heap, found in the morning by dim sunlight.
If life was a film- which it’s not, never has been- Lexie would be the cute neighbour that invited him through her bedroom window and his dad would dress up like Santa and his mom’s mascara wouldn’t run.
---
“You didn’t have to.”
“It’s a tree, Lex. It’s nothing--”
She punches him in the arm. “Shut up, it’s ours.” She smiles. “It’s a great tree. The best.”
He slumps on the bed. “Can’t believe you’re into this stuff.”
Her fingers reach out and brush the fake foliage, tinsel tickling against her wrist. “I can’t believe you’re not.” She starts to walk over to the window.
“It just wasn’t a big deal in my house.”
She’s pulling the curtains closed and smoothing out the creases. She misses the lights on her windowsill, the crappy decorations she used to put over picture frames. She misses them, but it’s kind of understood that with bad childhoods come bad holidays and she’s not going to press the issue. She doesn’t miss them that much.
“You gonna sit sometime tonight?” he says, from under tired eyes.
“…Mmhm.”
“But not yet?”
She sighs, something out of a film-of-the-week, “Not yet.”
---
“That song’s stuck in your head too?”
“What?”
“It was on right before we left the house-- I’ve been singing that fricking carol all day.”
“Oh right-- Yeah. Me too. So annoying.”
---
“I’m getting so huge.”
She’s curled into him, the baby pressing against his arm. Her breathing’s getting heavy, her eyelids even heavier.
“You have a baby in there.”
“And four tonnes of Christmas cake.” She grumbles into his chest, “Stupid nurses…”
He’s looking right ahead when wings and a halo creep into his peripheral view. He moves his foot slightly to get a better view. “You put an angel on it?”
Yawning, “It’s a tree-- It has to have an angel.”
He laughs under his breath. “Where’d you even get it?”
She closes her eyes again. “I, uh, I borrowed it from my dad. He doesn’t use it. My mom made it.”
“It’s pretty cute.”
“Mm,” she sighs. “She was really good at that kind of thing.”
---
“Mer’s invited us for Christmas,” she says, watching every reactive inch of his face.
He doesn’t look up. “We live with her. Isn’t that kind of weird?”
“Well, she’s invited us down-- you know, for dinner.” She’s checking her hair in the mirror now, still looking over at him. “Her and Derek are trying to start traditions.”
“Right,” he gets up, kissing her on the cheek, smoothing his hand over her stomach at the same time.
“We’re going?”
“It’s downstairs, Lex.”
She turns to face him, silently checking him over. You know this means we’re- us, you and me- part of the tradition now?
“Hey, who am I to turn down free food?”
She sighs with relief. Yes, family will always mean something to Lexie Grey.
---
"You look good," she smiles, flicking the reindeer antlers on his head. Because working with kids is working with festive accessories. "Very Christmassy."
He looks up from his chart. "Don't get used to it."
"I won't," she grins.
He snaps them back against the sides of her head. "You look cute as Rudolph."
"I don't have a red nose," she mumbles. "I'll be Blitzen."
He stares at her. "Whatever you want."
---
She’s rolled over now, her breath on his neck. Smell of peppermint candy canes in her hair, tucked up just under his nose.
The clock blinks 12:01.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Mm?” She moves onto her back, rubbing her eyes. “What’s that?”
He smirks. “Mistletoe.”
“I’m your girlfriend, Alex. And I’m pregnant. You can kiss me anytime you want--”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to do something here.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She smiles when he leans in, her hands cupping his face- he kisses her, feeling her grin against his mouth.
“We’ll get a big tree next year.”
“I like our tree.”
“It’s crappy--”
“I like it.”
He groans. “So we’ll get two crappy trees, kind of the same as one good one.”
She kisses him again, smile stretching out against his lips.
“Merry Christmas, Lex”