Tear, Dicks, and Shakes (Grey's Anatomy- Cristina/Meredith).
Title: Tears, Dicks, and Shakes.
Author: zapsflake / snowfie.
Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.
Recipient: witchqueen.
Pairing: Meredith/Cristina.
Word Count: 1,500 words.
Rating: PG-13.
Author's Notes: for femslash07. The characters belong to Shonda Rhimes. No copyright infringement intended. This occurs after season two’s finale. Drama-mode. This is the first time I've posted anything, hope you like it!
He chose Addison. She was just something he played around with, because she was easy. “An easy slut who liked to have sex, had big eyes, and looked needy -looked like she could be taken advantage of,” she thought. Like George said, she was flawed. She was a flawed person, a flawed person who could one day become a great surgeon. What did that even mean anymore? It was like she was a programmed robot who looked at a sick or injured person, and said what she learned in those big books in school. Pretty soon she was sure a robot would be able to do her job just as efficiently. Weren’t scientists working to make robots to do important jobs? She thought so.
She didn’t even care about the guy with the dog. The vet, the cute vet with a cute butt and a nice smile. He would be good for her. She desperately wanted to follow him into his cleaner, clearer life. But it wasn’t her. She wasn’t that perfect. She didn’t deserve him. She couldn’t be married right now, let alone be a reliable, steady girlfriend. Not with her work, her situation, her mind. She couldn’t pretend to be perfect with him. Her life couldn’t be perfect and easy. Goodbye, McVet. Thanks for killing my dog, quickly. Really. Thank you.
Meredith was sitting against the green trash bin, hiding. Cristina lay sprawled at her feet.
Tears were trying to force their way out of Cristina’s eye lids. All she could hear, over and over, was this stupid violin music, the music Burke played while operating on his hero. She didn’t even know that was his hero. Besides, a jazz musician as a hero? Her heroes were all doctors, surgeons, people who saved lives, and yet all she could hear was Burke’s stupid music. The melody was jazzy, all over the place, with an elaborate pattern she couldn’t follow. It was continually playing, getting louder and softer, and faster, and higher, and then sometimes it would stop. And then she couldn’t hear anything at all. Just her stupid ridiculous amount of snot stuffing up her nasal passageway. Fuck, she hated classical music. How could she have fallen for someone who adored it, something she knew nothing about? How could she have finally said yes?
Her whole life, she was the intelligent, quirky girl with spunk. She was so proud of her spunk and her ability to say no. “No, I’m not kissing you. You know nothing about me,” she would protest to the boys. And of course when they kissed her she felt like something else entirely, transformed into a new, lovable, capable being. Yet she knew that feeling was fleeting and fake. In the real world, there are no happy mothers and families aren’t perfect. There are flaws, cuts and bruises, and things that make you so angry and things that make you so jealous. And she didn’t want to be a person who was stupid, who fell for a stupid guy. She was so much better than that. She was superior. She was the best - strong, infallible. No boy had the power to transform her world with a kiss- a lousy, too sloppy, wet, thing called a kiss nevertheless. Seriously. Hadn’t they ever practiced? It was disgusting when she remembered those nights. But Burke. He was no stupid boy.
He was strong and encompassing and safe. He could make her feel more than a surgeon, more than a little Korean girl. He made her feel like she was the luckiest person in the world. And that was something to be careful about. It’s a lot of stress to be the luckiest person in the world. People expect you to do something with that luck, like, like to know what to do when you’re needed. And Cristina does know, at least in the context of the ER, or the OR, or fuck, any room in the whole damn hospital. What she doesn’t know is what to do when that person asks you to be there. Your luck is supposed to fucking give you the strength to say okay, right? And what if it was her? What if her hand didn’t function anymore? Who was she if not a surgeon? Fuck. How could she be there for Burke? The music returned, loud and repeating.
Meredith began to shiver and pulled Cristina off the ground, past the large, smelly garbage bins. “How long had they been lying there?” she wondered.
“Come on, “ Meredith grumbled. If she wasn’t going to be perfect, she was going to be something. She was going to be enough to somebody. She was going to try.
“Where are we-“
“Away.” Meredith interrupted. Where were they going? She couldn’t go home right now and see George and Izzie and just be home. She needed someplace new, clean, warm.
“Shotgun,” called Cristina. Suddenly her legs were sandbags planted on the ground. “Oh, god. Oh my god. I hate shot guns. I hate guns.”
“Get in the car, Cristina,” Meredith coaxed as she guided her into the car. She started the engine as Cristina said, “I can’t believe I’m riding shotgun. I can’t believe I’m riding shotgun. I can’t…”
“Shhh...”
She wanted to go somewhere warm. Anywhere. Then she saw it. Dick’s. Without consulting Cristina, she pulled into the drive through, ordered two specials and milkshakes, one chocolate and one strawberry. Cristina could choose which flavor she wanted. She liked them both. It had been years since she experienced Dick’s. Seattle’s secret that tasted like heaven with fresh and crispy burgers that smelled incredible paired with refreshing milkshakes. She thanked the clerk and pulled into Cristina’s apartment a few blocks down the way.
“Come on, Cristina. Let’s get inside.” She reached in for her set of keys, the ones Cristina gave her in case of an emergency, and opened the heavy door, pushing Cristina through. She dropped the burgers on the table, put milkshakes in the freezer, and gently sat Cristina on the bed.
“One minute,” said Meredith. In the bathroom, she started a hot shower, then started to pull the clothes off Cristina’s stiff body.
“We’re okay,” urged Meredith. She ripped off her own clothes as she drew Cristina into the shower. She gently scrubbed her, and supported her when Cristina’s knees weakened. It was so quiet. Meredith felt guilty looking into Cristina’s big, gaping eyes. Was it only last week Cristina was so strong, taking care of her, washing her back in the shower? She turned off the water and wrapped Cristina in a thick dark blue robe and led her to the bed. She quickly did a towel dance to dry off, grabbed two shirts from the dresser. She threw the white one on and went to Cristina. Meredith rubbed her robe to make her nice and dry and used her towel to dry her hair and gently wipe her face. Then she slipped off Cristina’s robe, and stuffed her into an oversized blue shirt and tucked her into bed. Then she crawled in beside her.
Cristina was so quiet. And warm.
“Hey, ” said Meredith.
Cristina didn’t answer.
Meredith turned Cristina onto her back, climbed on top, locked eyes with Cristina and said, “Hey.”
Inside Cristina’s head the haunting violin music paused.
“We’re getting through this. We’re going to be okay. We’re going to do great things,” said Mer.
Cristina felt the weight of Meredith’s body on top of her, heavy, unmoving. It felt so comforting, better than a hug. Stomach upon stomach, chest upon chest, thigh upon thigh and nothing hard in between. Softness overflowing. She closed her eyes and sighed. Then she felt her lips move apart. Meredith kissed her gently. The sides of her mouth lifted. She cried a laugh. Then they came tumbling out, all these tears. Meredith took Cristina’s hand in hers. The same hands that would perform all those operations.
Cristina forgot about Burke for a moment, and let herself be loved.
“Cristina, I need you here with me. I need you. I’ve never been more proud to be your person. I’m here. I’m right here,” Mer urged.
The next morning they awoke to smooth, milky goodness.
“Would you like chocolate or strawberry?” asked Meredith.
“No vanilla? Man when did you decide to go against America’s favorite? Fuck, I always eat vanilla.”
“I thought we needed a little extra spunk today.”
“Hmm. Spunky ice cream, eh? Hand me strawberry,” Cristina said excitedly.
It tasted like summer, eating fresh, plump berries in the sun. Strawberry was good. Maybe Cristina was wrong about the vanilla. Maybe she was wrong about a lot of things. But this, her hand intertwined with her best friend’s… this was good. This was very, very good.
Author: zapsflake / snowfie.
Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.
Recipient: witchqueen.
Pairing: Meredith/Cristina.
Word Count: 1,500 words.
Rating: PG-13.
Author's Notes: for femslash07. The characters belong to Shonda Rhimes. No copyright infringement intended. This occurs after season two’s finale. Drama-mode. This is the first time I've posted anything, hope you like it!
He chose Addison. She was just something he played around with, because she was easy. “An easy slut who liked to have sex, had big eyes, and looked needy -looked like she could be taken advantage of,” she thought. Like George said, she was flawed. She was a flawed person, a flawed person who could one day become a great surgeon. What did that even mean anymore? It was like she was a programmed robot who looked at a sick or injured person, and said what she learned in those big books in school. Pretty soon she was sure a robot would be able to do her job just as efficiently. Weren’t scientists working to make robots to do important jobs? She thought so.
She didn’t even care about the guy with the dog. The vet, the cute vet with a cute butt and a nice smile. He would be good for her. She desperately wanted to follow him into his cleaner, clearer life. But it wasn’t her. She wasn’t that perfect. She didn’t deserve him. She couldn’t be married right now, let alone be a reliable, steady girlfriend. Not with her work, her situation, her mind. She couldn’t pretend to be perfect with him. Her life couldn’t be perfect and easy. Goodbye, McVet. Thanks for killing my dog, quickly. Really. Thank you.
Meredith was sitting against the green trash bin, hiding. Cristina lay sprawled at her feet.
Tears were trying to force their way out of Cristina’s eye lids. All she could hear, over and over, was this stupid violin music, the music Burke played while operating on his hero. She didn’t even know that was his hero. Besides, a jazz musician as a hero? Her heroes were all doctors, surgeons, people who saved lives, and yet all she could hear was Burke’s stupid music. The melody was jazzy, all over the place, with an elaborate pattern she couldn’t follow. It was continually playing, getting louder and softer, and faster, and higher, and then sometimes it would stop. And then she couldn’t hear anything at all. Just her stupid ridiculous amount of snot stuffing up her nasal passageway. Fuck, she hated classical music. How could she have fallen for someone who adored it, something she knew nothing about? How could she have finally said yes?
Her whole life, she was the intelligent, quirky girl with spunk. She was so proud of her spunk and her ability to say no. “No, I’m not kissing you. You know nothing about me,” she would protest to the boys. And of course when they kissed her she felt like something else entirely, transformed into a new, lovable, capable being. Yet she knew that feeling was fleeting and fake. In the real world, there are no happy mothers and families aren’t perfect. There are flaws, cuts and bruises, and things that make you so angry and things that make you so jealous. And she didn’t want to be a person who was stupid, who fell for a stupid guy. She was so much better than that. She was superior. She was the best - strong, infallible. No boy had the power to transform her world with a kiss- a lousy, too sloppy, wet, thing called a kiss nevertheless. Seriously. Hadn’t they ever practiced? It was disgusting when she remembered those nights. But Burke. He was no stupid boy.
He was strong and encompassing and safe. He could make her feel more than a surgeon, more than a little Korean girl. He made her feel like she was the luckiest person in the world. And that was something to be careful about. It’s a lot of stress to be the luckiest person in the world. People expect you to do something with that luck, like, like to know what to do when you’re needed. And Cristina does know, at least in the context of the ER, or the OR, or fuck, any room in the whole damn hospital. What she doesn’t know is what to do when that person asks you to be there. Your luck is supposed to fucking give you the strength to say okay, right? And what if it was her? What if her hand didn’t function anymore? Who was she if not a surgeon? Fuck. How could she be there for Burke? The music returned, loud and repeating.
Meredith began to shiver and pulled Cristina off the ground, past the large, smelly garbage bins. “How long had they been lying there?” she wondered.
“Come on, “ Meredith grumbled. If she wasn’t going to be perfect, she was going to be something. She was going to be enough to somebody. She was going to try.
“Where are we-“
“Away.” Meredith interrupted. Where were they going? She couldn’t go home right now and see George and Izzie and just be home. She needed someplace new, clean, warm.
“Shotgun,” called Cristina. Suddenly her legs were sandbags planted on the ground. “Oh, god. Oh my god. I hate shot guns. I hate guns.”
“Get in the car, Cristina,” Meredith coaxed as she guided her into the car. She started the engine as Cristina said, “I can’t believe I’m riding shotgun. I can’t believe I’m riding shotgun. I can’t…”
“Shhh...”
She wanted to go somewhere warm. Anywhere. Then she saw it. Dick’s. Without consulting Cristina, she pulled into the drive through, ordered two specials and milkshakes, one chocolate and one strawberry. Cristina could choose which flavor she wanted. She liked them both. It had been years since she experienced Dick’s. Seattle’s secret that tasted like heaven with fresh and crispy burgers that smelled incredible paired with refreshing milkshakes. She thanked the clerk and pulled into Cristina’s apartment a few blocks down the way.
“Come on, Cristina. Let’s get inside.” She reached in for her set of keys, the ones Cristina gave her in case of an emergency, and opened the heavy door, pushing Cristina through. She dropped the burgers on the table, put milkshakes in the freezer, and gently sat Cristina on the bed.
“One minute,” said Meredith. In the bathroom, she started a hot shower, then started to pull the clothes off Cristina’s stiff body.
“We’re okay,” urged Meredith. She ripped off her own clothes as she drew Cristina into the shower. She gently scrubbed her, and supported her when Cristina’s knees weakened. It was so quiet. Meredith felt guilty looking into Cristina’s big, gaping eyes. Was it only last week Cristina was so strong, taking care of her, washing her back in the shower? She turned off the water and wrapped Cristina in a thick dark blue robe and led her to the bed. She quickly did a towel dance to dry off, grabbed two shirts from the dresser. She threw the white one on and went to Cristina. Meredith rubbed her robe to make her nice and dry and used her towel to dry her hair and gently wipe her face. Then she slipped off Cristina’s robe, and stuffed her into an oversized blue shirt and tucked her into bed. Then she crawled in beside her.
Cristina was so quiet. And warm.
“Hey, ” said Meredith.
Cristina didn’t answer.
Meredith turned Cristina onto her back, climbed on top, locked eyes with Cristina and said, “Hey.”
Inside Cristina’s head the haunting violin music paused.
“We’re getting through this. We’re going to be okay. We’re going to do great things,” said Mer.
Cristina felt the weight of Meredith’s body on top of her, heavy, unmoving. It felt so comforting, better than a hug. Stomach upon stomach, chest upon chest, thigh upon thigh and nothing hard in between. Softness overflowing. She closed her eyes and sighed. Then she felt her lips move apart. Meredith kissed her gently. The sides of her mouth lifted. She cried a laugh. Then they came tumbling out, all these tears. Meredith took Cristina’s hand in hers. The same hands that would perform all those operations.
Cristina forgot about Burke for a moment, and let herself be loved.
“Cristina, I need you here with me. I need you. I’ve never been more proud to be your person. I’m here. I’m right here,” Mer urged.
The next morning they awoke to smooth, milky goodness.
“Would you like chocolate or strawberry?” asked Meredith.
“No vanilla? Man when did you decide to go against America’s favorite? Fuck, I always eat vanilla.”
“I thought we needed a little extra spunk today.”
“Hmm. Spunky ice cream, eh? Hand me strawberry,” Cristina said excitedly.
It tasted like summer, eating fresh, plump berries in the sun. Strawberry was good. Maybe Cristina was wrong about the vanilla. Maybe she was wrong about a lot of things. But this, her hand intertwined with her best friend’s… this was good. This was very, very good.