Fic: Your light's much brighter than you know
Title: Your light's much brighter than you know
Summary: April and Lexie hide away from New Year's Kissing. (somewhere post 8x09)
Pairing: Lexie and April
Rating: PG
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 libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's note: Title taken from The Submarines, Plans
Oh no, someone's coming.
It's so nice up here, a thousand stars in the ice cold night sky. All the flashy party talk toned down to a soft murmur, the music surviving on its bass line alone. Reduced to the basics for once. So nice.
She shouldn't be here. It's the chief's home after all. Chief Hunt's historic dusty not cleaned since the 19th amendment attic part of home.
Then again, she's contributed to homemaking, look. One square yard, all tidy and transparent, a spectacular ceiling window with a view at the stars, on a night like this. Dr. Hunt would appreciate her efficiency, no doubt.
How come she didn't notice before? A night like this, at a place like this. No tears, unlike the previous time she's been here. And believe it or not, no rain at all. In downtown Seattle.
She can't stop giggling at the absurdity.
And here's the gatecrasher, slowly materializing from the shadows. Alright! No respite from twosomeness allowed.
Oh good, it's only Lexie, and she has brought more of that essential tequila. How considerate, for a change.
It's funny how everything's swinging all around, everything except for the booze, which is suddenly, somehow, glued firmly to her fingers, or rather her lips, actually.
Lexipedia is not amused. Almost makes her hesitate.
But look, Lexie's reconsidering while grabbing her bottle back. Instead of pro bitching, there's an eruption of giggles. And dear me, she's positively dazzling with her toothy giggling and glossy hair and blinding sequin waterfall top that has party queen written all over it.
Oh for god's sakes! Go back where you belong!
And she's back on her back, back on her very own, neat, plain chaise longue of moving boxes and canvas tarps, and of course Lexie thinks that there's space enough for both of them, and voila, she has even fallen silent in such an attention-seeking way, that she stupidly feels compelled to give up her focus on the glowing wonders of no rain in favour of looking at Lexie Grey.
Just what she needs. What is Grey even doing here, gazing up at the stars as if she knew the first thing about skipping stupid New Year's Kissing?
Ah, right. Oh well. She'd commiserate if she weren't busy trying to fight back a burp.
‟Look at us,“ Lexie says, ‟we're really the special guests.“
Okay, this is probably the first time that Lexie and her blazing lingerie have ever been in this situation, right? Which is kind of funny, actually.
‟And we have to look out, cause this is a perfect nest for the winners,“ Lexie adds.
What?
Lexie must have heard her. ‟So romantic. How did you know?“ Then, ‟Oh my god, once in a lifetime starlight! You bet they'll show up soon to screw each other's brains out.“
Ew. Another thing she hates about Seattle, everyone's always with the vulgar all over.
On the other hand, fuck that.
Lexie's laughter is so infectious, she's already joined in anyway. Or was it the other way around?
Doesn't matter.
When Lexie's in such a drinking mood, either somebody has died on her watch, or the great manly love of her life has done something to upset her.
‟Why don't you just tell him that you're still in love with him?“ she says, because starlight made her do it. Who knows? Maybe starlight will cure Lexie of her oh-so-secret effort at being stupid beyond belief.
But Lexie's eyes never slide away from the glittering sky. ‟Did you see them?“
She rolls over to snatch the bottle from Lexie's grip. Tries to concentrate. Helps concentration with another sip. Remembers Dr. Sloan and his new girlfriend from Pres, shrugs. Just another couple to her. Dull.
Jackson, though, funny. Far more memorable. ‟Guess what, though“ she says, and Lexie looks up at her, finally. ‟Jackson and that nurse from ob/gyn were doing it down in the first floor bathroom. He really has a thing for washing machines.“
Lexie's look is pure disbelief, but as she's entangled in this huge laughing fit, she can't exactly assure her she's serious.
But Lexie understands anyway. If this is a legitimate conclusion from Lexie's own laughing fit.
‟I'm glad he's fine,“ Lexie says, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, ‟and I'm so glad he's with a woman...‟
Huh?
‟.. and not with the plastics possee buddy. God!“
Wait, really? ‟You mean... ‟ no, she can't mean that, can she? This would take the washing machine thing to a whole new level, indeed. Oh, oh, beyond funny.
Breathe, she needs to breathe.
And why has Lexie stopped laughing? She's... offended? Lexie's harsh attack on the bottle's label makes her a bit uneasy. ‟Mark has great things to teach.“
Ooh, interesting. She should really try to stop giggling and be a good confidante. One more sip couldn't hurt as well. She's trying. ‟Which would be...?“
After a quick sip of her own, Lexie is back to grinning all bright and shiny. ‟Jackson is sweet and all, but could learn a thing or two.“ She touches her lips. ‟Don't tell him.“
Oh! Jackson? She'd never have guessed... too, too funny.
Then again, what would she tell? She doesn't know anything. So... maybe... ‟So I start with Jackson right?“
And the words dance around for a moment of surprise for both of them before they both erupt into laughter all over again.
And Lexie is so close and sounds and smells so... so... like Meredith actually, that once the laughter has died down into soft smiles, once she's back on her back, touching Lexie's hip with her own, she can't help but wonder... how many men did the Grey sisters already have between them? No, that's not... She shouldn't go there.
She's changed so much since Dr. Shepherd hired her back. It's good that her own sisters can't see her right now. They wouldn't understand.
Maybe Libby drove to Columbus to spend New Years Eve with mom and dad. She hopes she did. Kimmie wouldn't be able to come because of the kids, and Alice wouldn't spend the evening at home, of course. It was so nice when they all hung out together, a lifetime ago. On the only night of the year they were all allowed to be up past midnight. Cozy, with a lot of candles and traditional pork and sauerkraut and a lot of trivial pursuit. History, her favourite.
She really should have gone home for Christmas. If only she could have escaped Chief Resident duties. This damn hospital.
Hopefully she'll be able to move closer to home after her residency. A small comfort, these are the same stars that are glittering above Schiller park right now. If it isn't raining over there, that is.
Oh well. The music has just changed back to a somewhat familiar hammering beat she can't quite name. What is it called again?
Then Lexie interrupts the pensive silence. ‟So you really...“
She won't admit it again. Think what you like. Another sip, please.
‟But you would like to...“ Lexie won't give up so easily.
Yes, Lexie, she would very much like to. But it won't happen anytime soon, because it should be special. And as she's nothing like, for example, Lexie Grey, what's the chance of that? Look at all the hot men this prom queen dated, and yet, nothing special came out of it. Special does not exist in this city.
Shootings exist in this city.
Existed.
‟Wow,“ Lexie continues talking, ‟Wouldn't want to go there again.“ Lexie gives a small laugh, settling more comfortably on the boxes, knocking her bony hip into her own in the process, ouch.
‟My first time sucked so much. And it hurt. I really bled, can you believe that? I was fifteen, and really, really in love with him. Elias was... I bet he won't even remember me.“
Why thank you for the information. About time Lexie looks up and notices her reproachful glare. At least Lexie has the decency to act a bit embarrassed.
And then there's a smile which seems so genuinely affectionate that she would get a little nervous if she didn't know that she's probably not catching everyone's drift at the moment anyway.
And the smile gets even more shiny. In fact, this could be the most sparkly smile she's ever seen. ‟And now, look at me. I got over Elias, I got over … wait is it 8 or 9 now? Still rolling!“
And just like that, the spark of laughter is back for both of them.
‟Let's drink!“ Lexie says, sitting up in a smooth move, struggling to fill some liquid into the other, empty bottle, so they can clink bottles instead of champagne flutes.
Good thought, so she struggles up as well.
She even has a toast. ‟To 2012! We survived, now we be loved!“
If she wasn't so drunk, she'd think Lexie is trying to hide a sudden tremor at that. But her eyes open again after a mere breath, and then she's back to normal, focus on a very solemn toast. Well, as solemn as they get tonight. With tequila bottles.
Giggling, she sinks back on the boxes.
‟Know what?“ Lexie says after drinking. ‟You don't start with Jackson.“ The strange, bright smile is back, and she's losing eye contact. ‟You start with Mark.“
What the hell?
Way to startle everyone out of a properly dulled grogginess. Everything's swinging madly. She should lie down again, stat.
The line seems vaguely familiar, too. So she makes an effort to glare. Hard.
But Lexie's totally calm, staring into the shadowy corners, as if she's not even there. ‟Mark is... he's... he loves to be great in bed. You'd be ready for anything. He gives, you know?“
Good god, why is Lexie even talking about this? No, no, she knows why Lexie does. And she shakes her head, no.
‟Let me show you,“ Lexie says. As if she's planning to show her how to do her hair for softball.
Dear lord, this woman has zero respect for rules of any kind. And she smells of Meredith's lavender shampoo, and her body is feverishly hot, and these big dark eyes are really intense up close, too close.
Is she dreaming?
‟He'll look at you like you're the only thing that matters in the world,“ Lexie whispers.
And somehow, she's acutely aware of Lexie's lips, which she can't see, because she can't break the gaze that she's been locked in. The hairs on her arms stand up, and this can't be going where she thinks it's headed, can it?
‟Then he'll kiss you,“ Lexie sighs into her ear, sending a trail of shudders down her neck and shoulder.
And it's plain unbelievable. A soft taste of tequila and tender hint of salt.
And so wrong.
Not real. She'll wake any second now.
Then again. That's just what Lexie does. She actually feels bad for her.
Then again, everything starts humming. Lips keep moving with relaxed insistence, skilful hands are dancing sparks across her skin.
She survived. She deserves to... and how could she deny entry to this soft, shy, glowing tip of a tongue, when everything is already upside down anyway?
It's glorious.
And maybe this is it. The fleeting lips on her skin feel wonderful. If this is what it feels like, she really needs...
‟See?“ Lexie halts her sparse thoughts with a shaky whisper. ‟He's a genius. You'd totally think he loves you.“
The sudden starlight hurts her eyes. And then she gets it. Finally, she gets it.
She should be hurt, outraged.
Instead, she just wants to make it better for gorgeous, twisted, plain damn stupid Lexie Grey. If only she could make her see how very wrong she is.
She forces Lexie to look at her by turning her face around with both her hands. Not exactly easy, as Lexie is trying to evade her eyes.
Good that she's utterly convinced of one thing, at least for now. ‟If he doesn't love you back, he's an idiot,“ she says, because, well, it's true.
Oh no! Why is Lexie crying? Was it her? Crap! She tries to apologize, ‟I'm sorry! So sorry! What did I say? I didn't mean...“
But Lexie just turns and runs, knocking the bottle over in doing so.
Right as rain, she puts it back upright and wipes the liquid off Dr. Hunt's moving boxes in a much quicker moves than she would have thought possible. Clearly, the booze is already wearing off. Or it's the excitement.
Or it's the taste of something... something... she can't quite name.
She'd better return to the party. Who knows, maybe someone else may want to kiss her.
Summary: April and Lexie hide away from New Year's Kissing. (somewhere post 8x09)
Pairing: Lexie and April
Rating: PG
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 libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's note: Title taken from The Submarines, Plans
Oh no, someone's coming.
It's so nice up here, a thousand stars in the ice cold night sky. All the flashy party talk toned down to a soft murmur, the music surviving on its bass line alone. Reduced to the basics for once. So nice.
She shouldn't be here. It's the chief's home after all. Chief Hunt's historic dusty not cleaned since the 19th amendment attic part of home.
Then again, she's contributed to homemaking, look. One square yard, all tidy and transparent, a spectacular ceiling window with a view at the stars, on a night like this. Dr. Hunt would appreciate her efficiency, no doubt.
How come she didn't notice before? A night like this, at a place like this. No tears, unlike the previous time she's been here. And believe it or not, no rain at all. In downtown Seattle.
She can't stop giggling at the absurdity.
And here's the gatecrasher, slowly materializing from the shadows. Alright! No respite from twosomeness allowed.
Oh good, it's only Lexie, and she has brought more of that essential tequila. How considerate, for a change.
It's funny how everything's swinging all around, everything except for the booze, which is suddenly, somehow, glued firmly to her fingers, or rather her lips, actually.
Lexipedia is not amused. Almost makes her hesitate.
But look, Lexie's reconsidering while grabbing her bottle back. Instead of pro bitching, there's an eruption of giggles. And dear me, she's positively dazzling with her toothy giggling and glossy hair and blinding sequin waterfall top that has party queen written all over it.
Oh for god's sakes! Go back where you belong!
And she's back on her back, back on her very own, neat, plain chaise longue of moving boxes and canvas tarps, and of course Lexie thinks that there's space enough for both of them, and voila, she has even fallen silent in such an attention-seeking way, that she stupidly feels compelled to give up her focus on the glowing wonders of no rain in favour of looking at Lexie Grey.
Just what she needs. What is Grey even doing here, gazing up at the stars as if she knew the first thing about skipping stupid New Year's Kissing?
Ah, right. Oh well. She'd commiserate if she weren't busy trying to fight back a burp.
‟Look at us,“ Lexie says, ‟we're really the special guests.“
Okay, this is probably the first time that Lexie and her blazing lingerie have ever been in this situation, right? Which is kind of funny, actually.
‟And we have to look out, cause this is a perfect nest for the winners,“ Lexie adds.
What?
Lexie must have heard her. ‟So romantic. How did you know?“ Then, ‟Oh my god, once in a lifetime starlight! You bet they'll show up soon to screw each other's brains out.“
Ew. Another thing she hates about Seattle, everyone's always with the vulgar all over.
On the other hand, fuck that.
Lexie's laughter is so infectious, she's already joined in anyway. Or was it the other way around?
Doesn't matter.
When Lexie's in such a drinking mood, either somebody has died on her watch, or the great manly love of her life has done something to upset her.
‟Why don't you just tell him that you're still in love with him?“ she says, because starlight made her do it. Who knows? Maybe starlight will cure Lexie of her oh-so-secret effort at being stupid beyond belief.
But Lexie's eyes never slide away from the glittering sky. ‟Did you see them?“
She rolls over to snatch the bottle from Lexie's grip. Tries to concentrate. Helps concentration with another sip. Remembers Dr. Sloan and his new girlfriend from Pres, shrugs. Just another couple to her. Dull.
Jackson, though, funny. Far more memorable. ‟Guess what, though“ she says, and Lexie looks up at her, finally. ‟Jackson and that nurse from ob/gyn were doing it down in the first floor bathroom. He really has a thing for washing machines.“
Lexie's look is pure disbelief, but as she's entangled in this huge laughing fit, she can't exactly assure her she's serious.
But Lexie understands anyway. If this is a legitimate conclusion from Lexie's own laughing fit.
‟I'm glad he's fine,“ Lexie says, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, ‟and I'm so glad he's with a woman...‟
Huh?
‟.. and not with the plastics possee buddy. God!“
Wait, really? ‟You mean... ‟ no, she can't mean that, can she? This would take the washing machine thing to a whole new level, indeed. Oh, oh, beyond funny.
Breathe, she needs to breathe.
And why has Lexie stopped laughing? She's... offended? Lexie's harsh attack on the bottle's label makes her a bit uneasy. ‟Mark has great things to teach.“
Ooh, interesting. She should really try to stop giggling and be a good confidante. One more sip couldn't hurt as well. She's trying. ‟Which would be...?“
After a quick sip of her own, Lexie is back to grinning all bright and shiny. ‟Jackson is sweet and all, but could learn a thing or two.“ She touches her lips. ‟Don't tell him.“
Oh! Jackson? She'd never have guessed... too, too funny.
Then again, what would she tell? She doesn't know anything. So... maybe... ‟So I start with Jackson right?“
And the words dance around for a moment of surprise for both of them before they both erupt into laughter all over again.
And Lexie is so close and sounds and smells so... so... like Meredith actually, that once the laughter has died down into soft smiles, once she's back on her back, touching Lexie's hip with her own, she can't help but wonder... how many men did the Grey sisters already have between them? No, that's not... She shouldn't go there.
She's changed so much since Dr. Shepherd hired her back. It's good that her own sisters can't see her right now. They wouldn't understand.
Maybe Libby drove to Columbus to spend New Years Eve with mom and dad. She hopes she did. Kimmie wouldn't be able to come because of the kids, and Alice wouldn't spend the evening at home, of course. It was so nice when they all hung out together, a lifetime ago. On the only night of the year they were all allowed to be up past midnight. Cozy, with a lot of candles and traditional pork and sauerkraut and a lot of trivial pursuit. History, her favourite.
She really should have gone home for Christmas. If only she could have escaped Chief Resident duties. This damn hospital.
Hopefully she'll be able to move closer to home after her residency. A small comfort, these are the same stars that are glittering above Schiller park right now. If it isn't raining over there, that is.
Oh well. The music has just changed back to a somewhat familiar hammering beat she can't quite name. What is it called again?
Then Lexie interrupts the pensive silence. ‟So you really...“
She won't admit it again. Think what you like. Another sip, please.
‟But you would like to...“ Lexie won't give up so easily.
Yes, Lexie, she would very much like to. But it won't happen anytime soon, because it should be special. And as she's nothing like, for example, Lexie Grey, what's the chance of that? Look at all the hot men this prom queen dated, and yet, nothing special came out of it. Special does not exist in this city.
Shootings exist in this city.
Existed.
‟Wow,“ Lexie continues talking, ‟Wouldn't want to go there again.“ Lexie gives a small laugh, settling more comfortably on the boxes, knocking her bony hip into her own in the process, ouch.
‟My first time sucked so much. And it hurt. I really bled, can you believe that? I was fifteen, and really, really in love with him. Elias was... I bet he won't even remember me.“
Why thank you for the information. About time Lexie looks up and notices her reproachful glare. At least Lexie has the decency to act a bit embarrassed.
And then there's a smile which seems so genuinely affectionate that she would get a little nervous if she didn't know that she's probably not catching everyone's drift at the moment anyway.
And the smile gets even more shiny. In fact, this could be the most sparkly smile she's ever seen. ‟And now, look at me. I got over Elias, I got over … wait is it 8 or 9 now? Still rolling!“
And just like that, the spark of laughter is back for both of them.
‟Let's drink!“ Lexie says, sitting up in a smooth move, struggling to fill some liquid into the other, empty bottle, so they can clink bottles instead of champagne flutes.
Good thought, so she struggles up as well.
She even has a toast. ‟To 2012! We survived, now we be loved!“
If she wasn't so drunk, she'd think Lexie is trying to hide a sudden tremor at that. But her eyes open again after a mere breath, and then she's back to normal, focus on a very solemn toast. Well, as solemn as they get tonight. With tequila bottles.
Giggling, she sinks back on the boxes.
‟Know what?“ Lexie says after drinking. ‟You don't start with Jackson.“ The strange, bright smile is back, and she's losing eye contact. ‟You start with Mark.“
What the hell?
Way to startle everyone out of a properly dulled grogginess. Everything's swinging madly. She should lie down again, stat.
The line seems vaguely familiar, too. So she makes an effort to glare. Hard.
But Lexie's totally calm, staring into the shadowy corners, as if she's not even there. ‟Mark is... he's... he loves to be great in bed. You'd be ready for anything. He gives, you know?“
Good god, why is Lexie even talking about this? No, no, she knows why Lexie does. And she shakes her head, no.
‟Let me show you,“ Lexie says. As if she's planning to show her how to do her hair for softball.
Dear lord, this woman has zero respect for rules of any kind. And she smells of Meredith's lavender shampoo, and her body is feverishly hot, and these big dark eyes are really intense up close, too close.
Is she dreaming?
‟He'll look at you like you're the only thing that matters in the world,“ Lexie whispers.
And somehow, she's acutely aware of Lexie's lips, which she can't see, because she can't break the gaze that she's been locked in. The hairs on her arms stand up, and this can't be going where she thinks it's headed, can it?
‟Then he'll kiss you,“ Lexie sighs into her ear, sending a trail of shudders down her neck and shoulder.
And it's plain unbelievable. A soft taste of tequila and tender hint of salt.
And so wrong.
Not real. She'll wake any second now.
Then again. That's just what Lexie does. She actually feels bad for her.
Then again, everything starts humming. Lips keep moving with relaxed insistence, skilful hands are dancing sparks across her skin.
She survived. She deserves to... and how could she deny entry to this soft, shy, glowing tip of a tongue, when everything is already upside down anyway?
It's glorious.
And maybe this is it. The fleeting lips on her skin feel wonderful. If this is what it feels like, she really needs...
‟See?“ Lexie halts her sparse thoughts with a shaky whisper. ‟He's a genius. You'd totally think he loves you.“
The sudden starlight hurts her eyes. And then she gets it. Finally, she gets it.
She should be hurt, outraged.
Instead, she just wants to make it better for gorgeous, twisted, plain damn stupid Lexie Grey. If only she could make her see how very wrong she is.
She forces Lexie to look at her by turning her face around with both her hands. Not exactly easy, as Lexie is trying to evade her eyes.
Good that she's utterly convinced of one thing, at least for now. ‟If he doesn't love you back, he's an idiot,“ she says, because, well, it's true.
Oh no! Why is Lexie crying? Was it her? Crap! She tries to apologize, ‟I'm sorry! So sorry! What did I say? I didn't mean...“
But Lexie just turns and runs, knocking the bottle over in doing so.
Right as rain, she puts it back upright and wipes the liquid off Dr. Hunt's moving boxes in a much quicker moves than she would have thought possible. Clearly, the booze is already wearing off. Or it's the excitement.
Or it's the taste of something... something... she can't quite name.
She'd better return to the party. Who knows, maybe someone else may want to kiss her.