Fic: BtVS/GA crossover, Surgeons and Rockstars [1/?]
I was attempting to answer the prompts from the other day, and the always lovely eccentrici requested a BtVS/Grey's crossover, with Oz/Devon at Seattle Grace, and as I thought about it, and then started it, I realized, ye gads, this is not going to fit in a ficlet, a drabble, or even a short fic. So, instead, I give you Part 1 of a WIP. And while this bit is mostly Izzie, the Oz/Devon is certainly coming up.
Title: Surgeons and Rockstars [1/?]
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Grey's Anatomy crossover
Rating: PG-13
Words: 660
Summary: Izzie contemplates the chart of a patient she has a, ahem, history with. Izzie/Devon, eventually Devon/Oz.
Izzie is not in a good mood. First, she’s having a bad hair day. One strand refuses to stay pulled down or slicked back, insists on escaping like a wild, frizzy snake. And there’s George, the way there’s always George, just at the edge of her consciousness, close enough to touch but farther away than he’s ever been. She wants to scream in frustration. She wants to go home and bake some cherry tarts, damn it.
And, then, as if she weren’t stressed out enough, there’s this. She stares at the chart in her hands. She squints her eyes, making the name at the top dance in and out focus, in and out again, here and gone.
All she has to do is walk through the door, act professional, get the awkward pauses out of the way and find out what’s wrong with the asshole. The only problem is that her feet are refusing to move and she feels like there are knives dancing in her stomach. She’s just standing there, feeling like an idiot, when Meredith walks by and sees her.
“Are you okay?” Meredith asks, her tired, pointy little face scrunching up in concern.
“Not really.” Izzie allows herself to sigh, and she was holding her breath without even realizing it, so when she lets it out it sounds like a strong wind blowing down the hallway. “My ex is in there.”
“Who? The hockey player?”
Izzie fights the urge to giggle as a picture of Devon ice skating flickers through her head. “No, no. Before that.”
“I don’t remember you mentioning any of your other ex boyfriends,” Meredith says. “Was it serious?”
Izzie remembers waking up tangled in black satin sheets, the smell of pot permeating the hotel room, Devon’s tongue on her thigh, moaning as the midday sun flooded the room. She recalls not leaving the penthouse until midnight, wearing shades anyway, in the elevator, outside on the street as the white bright bulbs of the cameras flashed, capturing Devon’s painted fingers clutching her ass.
“I don’t know if serious is the right word, but we were together a long time. Over three years.” The chart slips a little in Izzie’s hand, and she realizes that it’s damp from her sweaty palms. “Listen, Mer, you know how, after everything with Denny, I’m not supposed to get too involved with the patients? There’s no way I can stay impartial here, he’s my ex, you know? If you could just do the consult and present it to Burke, I would be so grateful…”
“I don’t know,” Meredith says. “I just finished with my patients, and I wanted to go grab some lunch before I scrub in with Sloan…”
“Please, Meredith,” Izzie says. “Please. I need you.”
“All right.”
Izzie hugs her friend. “Thank you so much. I’m baking cherry tarts when I get home, but if there’s something you’d rather have…”
Meredith smiles. “Cherry tarts are fine. Can I have the chart?”
Izzie starts to hand it to her, pauses mid-motion. “Just one more thing, Meredith. Can I ask you to be discreet about this relationship?”
“Of course,” Meredith says. “I would never betray your trust, Izzie. Anyway, it’s not like Bailey would want you treating your ex or anything.”
“It’s a little bit more complicated than that,” Izzie says, finally handing her the chart. “He’s kind of… famous.”
Meredith rolls her eyes. “Of course. You’re a fucking supermodel. How famous can he be?” She glances at the chart. She clasps her hands to her mouth, muffling what is still, to Izzie, a very loud and very silly middle school girl like squeal.
“Shhh.” Izzie glances around nervously.
“Wait just a second, here. I’m not…” Meredith is practically hyperventilating. “I’m not usually like this, but I was such a big fan in college. Izzie, are you trying to tell me you dated Devon MacLeish, the rock star?”
Izzie turns the wall and thumps her head against the plaster.
I hope somebody enjoys this as much as I am enjoying writing this. In other crack!tastic crossover news, I am writing a Hex/Veronica Mars/BtVS crossover, which involves Lilly/Thelma and Lilly/Lilah. Blame topofthepiano for that one. :) Must go shower and run off to work. Target needs me!
Title: Surgeons and Rockstars [1/?]
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Grey's Anatomy crossover
Rating: PG-13
Words: 660
Summary: Izzie contemplates the chart of a patient she has a, ahem, history with. Izzie/Devon, eventually Devon/Oz.
Izzie is not in a good mood. First, she’s having a bad hair day. One strand refuses to stay pulled down or slicked back, insists on escaping like a wild, frizzy snake. And there’s George, the way there’s always George, just at the edge of her consciousness, close enough to touch but farther away than he’s ever been. She wants to scream in frustration. She wants to go home and bake some cherry tarts, damn it.
And, then, as if she weren’t stressed out enough, there’s this. She stares at the chart in her hands. She squints her eyes, making the name at the top dance in and out focus, in and out again, here and gone.
All she has to do is walk through the door, act professional, get the awkward pauses out of the way and find out what’s wrong with the asshole. The only problem is that her feet are refusing to move and she feels like there are knives dancing in her stomach. She’s just standing there, feeling like an idiot, when Meredith walks by and sees her.
“Are you okay?” Meredith asks, her tired, pointy little face scrunching up in concern.
“Not really.” Izzie allows herself to sigh, and she was holding her breath without even realizing it, so when she lets it out it sounds like a strong wind blowing down the hallway. “My ex is in there.”
“Who? The hockey player?”
Izzie fights the urge to giggle as a picture of Devon ice skating flickers through her head. “No, no. Before that.”
“I don’t remember you mentioning any of your other ex boyfriends,” Meredith says. “Was it serious?”
Izzie remembers waking up tangled in black satin sheets, the smell of pot permeating the hotel room, Devon’s tongue on her thigh, moaning as the midday sun flooded the room. She recalls not leaving the penthouse until midnight, wearing shades anyway, in the elevator, outside on the street as the white bright bulbs of the cameras flashed, capturing Devon’s painted fingers clutching her ass.
“I don’t know if serious is the right word, but we were together a long time. Over three years.” The chart slips a little in Izzie’s hand, and she realizes that it’s damp from her sweaty palms. “Listen, Mer, you know how, after everything with Denny, I’m not supposed to get too involved with the patients? There’s no way I can stay impartial here, he’s my ex, you know? If you could just do the consult and present it to Burke, I would be so grateful…”
“I don’t know,” Meredith says. “I just finished with my patients, and I wanted to go grab some lunch before I scrub in with Sloan…”
“Please, Meredith,” Izzie says. “Please. I need you.”
“All right.”
Izzie hugs her friend. “Thank you so much. I’m baking cherry tarts when I get home, but if there’s something you’d rather have…”
Meredith smiles. “Cherry tarts are fine. Can I have the chart?”
Izzie starts to hand it to her, pauses mid-motion. “Just one more thing, Meredith. Can I ask you to be discreet about this relationship?”
“Of course,” Meredith says. “I would never betray your trust, Izzie. Anyway, it’s not like Bailey would want you treating your ex or anything.”
“It’s a little bit more complicated than that,” Izzie says, finally handing her the chart. “He’s kind of… famous.”
Meredith rolls her eyes. “Of course. You’re a fucking supermodel. How famous can he be?” She glances at the chart. She clasps her hands to her mouth, muffling what is still, to Izzie, a very loud and very silly middle school girl like squeal.
“Shhh.” Izzie glances around nervously.
“Wait just a second, here. I’m not…” Meredith is practically hyperventilating. “I’m not usually like this, but I was such a big fan in college. Izzie, are you trying to tell me you dated Devon MacLeish, the rock star?”
Izzie turns the wall and thumps her head against the plaster.
I hope somebody enjoys this as much as I am enjoying writing this. In other crack!tastic crossover news, I am writing a Hex/Veronica Mars/BtVS crossover, which involves Lilly/Thelma and Lilly/Lilah. Blame topofthepiano for that one. :) Must go shower and run off to work. Target needs me!