grey's anatomy fanfiction, izzie/addison - close
Close
Author's Notes: Addison/Izzie for the ga500 challenge prompt, 'close'.
Close- adj. Being on the brink of: close to tears.
Izzie found Addison in the supply closet by accident. Her meeting with the Chief went terribly, her fiancée died last week, her house was full of roommates who wouldn’t leave her the hell alone. She needed a place to cry. So she slipped into the supply closet before said roommates happened to find her at the hospital and start asking questions. And there was Addison, not Satan, not Doctor McBitch, just a woman whose husband was in love with someone else, hiding her face in her knees, rocking back and forth. When Izzie walked in she snapped upright of course, and tried to pretend she wasn’t crying. Izzie sunk down next her and they sat together for a while, each leaning on the other’s shoulder and fighting back tears.
Close- adj. Having little or no space between elements or parts; tight and compact: a close weave.
Addison doesn’t remember the last time her head rested so perfectly in the curve of someone’s neck. Or when kisses were exciting, unpredictable, stolen at every possible opportunity, even between sentences, which makes conversation difficult, but they talk and talk for hours just the same. She can’t remember the last time Derek slipped his arms around her, and pulled her close, whispering so breathily in her ear that it tickled her cheeks. Izzie did that just yesterday, and then she braided her hair, running her fingers through the strawberry strands as they lay spooned against one another in Meredith’s backyard. And she can’t remember anyone’s fingers lacing so easily with her own, curling in and around and over until their hands are so entwined she can’t tell where she ends and Izzie begins.
Close- adj. Bound by mutual interests, loyalties, or affections; intimate.
Izzie didn’t know that Addison loved to cook until she walked in on her one day, up to her elbows in cookie dough in Meredith’s kitchen. When she asked about it, the redhead told her it made her feel feminine, like the Prada heels and the designer suits. So as they rolled out the dough Izzie confessed that playing Martha Stuart was how she had dealt with life in the trailer, and as they cut the cookies, Addison told her about the baby that she lost in New York, before Derek stopped coming home. Izzie had missed having a confidante, and Addison had missed sweet, uncomplicated intimacy. So they shared secrets between kisses, the cookies lying forgotten on the counter.
Close- adj. near in space or time.
Addison sometimes wonders if there is an all powerful cosmological force, linking all of space and time. Because she can’t quite figure out how she ended up here, lying so close to a sleeping Isobel Stevens that she can feel the rise and fall of her chest, wearing Izzie’s T-shirt and disturbing the blonde curls splayed across her shoulder with every breath. Deep philosophical questions aside, she smiles as she closes her eyes.
Author's Notes: Addison/Izzie for the ga500 challenge prompt, 'close'.
Close- adj. Being on the brink of: close to tears.
Izzie found Addison in the supply closet by accident. Her meeting with the Chief went terribly, her fiancée died last week, her house was full of roommates who wouldn’t leave her the hell alone. She needed a place to cry. So she slipped into the supply closet before said roommates happened to find her at the hospital and start asking questions. And there was Addison, not Satan, not Doctor McBitch, just a woman whose husband was in love with someone else, hiding her face in her knees, rocking back and forth. When Izzie walked in she snapped upright of course, and tried to pretend she wasn’t crying. Izzie sunk down next her and they sat together for a while, each leaning on the other’s shoulder and fighting back tears.
Close- adj. Having little or no space between elements or parts; tight and compact: a close weave.
Addison doesn’t remember the last time her head rested so perfectly in the curve of someone’s neck. Or when kisses were exciting, unpredictable, stolen at every possible opportunity, even between sentences, which makes conversation difficult, but they talk and talk for hours just the same. She can’t remember the last time Derek slipped his arms around her, and pulled her close, whispering so breathily in her ear that it tickled her cheeks. Izzie did that just yesterday, and then she braided her hair, running her fingers through the strawberry strands as they lay spooned against one another in Meredith’s backyard. And she can’t remember anyone’s fingers lacing so easily with her own, curling in and around and over until their hands are so entwined she can’t tell where she ends and Izzie begins.
Close- adj. Bound by mutual interests, loyalties, or affections; intimate.
Izzie didn’t know that Addison loved to cook until she walked in on her one day, up to her elbows in cookie dough in Meredith’s kitchen. When she asked about it, the redhead told her it made her feel feminine, like the Prada heels and the designer suits. So as they rolled out the dough Izzie confessed that playing Martha Stuart was how she had dealt with life in the trailer, and as they cut the cookies, Addison told her about the baby that she lost in New York, before Derek stopped coming home. Izzie had missed having a confidante, and Addison had missed sweet, uncomplicated intimacy. So they shared secrets between kisses, the cookies lying forgotten on the counter.
Close- adj. near in space or time.
Addison sometimes wonders if there is an all powerful cosmological force, linking all of space and time. Because she can’t quite figure out how she ended up here, lying so close to a sleeping Isobel Stevens that she can feel the rise and fall of her chest, wearing Izzie’s T-shirt and disturbing the blonde curls splayed across her shoulder with every breath. Deep philosophical questions aside, she smiles as she closes her eyes.