Plans, Revised.
Title: Plans, Revised.
Pairing: Mark Sloan/Lexie Grey, Callie Torres/Arizona Robbins, etc.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to recent episodes.
Summary: The life Lexie thought she wanted is nothing like the one she has.
For richyl88 who bid on me at the fandomaid Flood Auction. I hope you like it!
Somewhere in the recess of Lexie Grey’s mind she can hear the dull hum of the shower running while the pounding of feet on the floor out in the hallway isn’t as recessed, but just hazy. The June heat wave in Seattle has left her feeling sticky with sweat, tossing off the one thin sheet that covered her rounded stomach overnight with a sigh. The footsteps thunder by again and Lexie squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the instinct to get out of bed and see what the kids are getting up to. It’s never if they’re getting up to anything, they are equal parts Sloan and Grey after all, but what and how much damage they’ve managed to cause in the process. If she doesn’t go and head them off now it won’t be long until something crashes.
The hum of the shower is replaced by the hum of the air conditioning, and not for the first time since moving to this house is Lexie thankful that Mark insisted on both built-in air conditioning and a fancy furnace. Seattle weather seemed more unpredictable by the year and Lexie couldn’t imagine being pregnant twice during the summer without the relief of a cool breeze indoors. Sure, she had nearly frozen Mark to death the August before the twins were born but thankfully June and July were the worst they were going to have to handle this time around. Or at least it had been until the thermostat decided to jump and Lexie’s pretty sure that if it continues she’ll just pull out the twins' winter clothes and crank the cold air until the system passes.
Lexie’s not at all surprised when a crash echoes down the hallway, if she has to guess it’s something in Nick’s room, and again, there’s the niggling feeling in the back of her head that she really should get out of bed. There’s who knows what chaos going on out there, the cat is probably hiding in the linen cupboard again after being terrorized, Lexie knows the dishes didn’t magically do themselves overnight because she was too tired to do them yesterday, Mark’s going to want his lucky Yankees tie and he’s going to need her to find it anyways, so why not be proactive, and honestly, she really needs to pee. Baby Sloan #4 is doing a number on her bladder in a way Sloan babies #2 and 3 never did, and Callie never seemed to have the same issue with baby #1, although it’s not like Lexie was privileged to that information at the time.
“What’d they break?” Mark asks coming out of the bathroom in a curtain of steam.
“I don’t know. They’re your children right now.”
“They’re both of ours, Lex,” Mark grins and leans down to press his lips to her swollen stomach, “Just like this one even if she’ll be worse than the twins because they’re going to teach her how to not get caught.”
“I still say it’s a boy.”
“I wish. But you Grey girls like to dominate.”
--
It takes fifteen minutes to coax the cat out of the linen cupboard but Lexie finally ventures down to the kitchen where, miraculously, two heads of curly dark brown hair are sitting at the kitchen table with cereal bowls in front of them. Lexie has learnt that the only time not to be suspicious of relative silence in the Sloan household is when the twins are eating. Her hand ruffles Nick’s mop of curls as she passes behind his chair and then presses a kiss to the top of Aimee’s longer curls, pulled back in a messy half-ponytail; for someone so skilled with a needle and suture thread in hand, Lexie had never been able to understand Mark’s failure when it came to his daughter’s hair. He always got credit for trying, though.
“Dad made us breakfast!”
“I see that. Did you sleep well?”
“Yup. Nick woke me up, though.”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
There’s a tall glass of water sitting at her spot on the table and the condensation is cool against her palm, Lexie catching Mark’s gaze over the edge of the drink raised to her lips. She’s faintly aware of the twins arguing in the background and she should try and stop them but sometimes it’s far easier to just let them peter out on their own; she’s long since stopped thinking about what that says about her parenting skills. Mark’s arm is familiar around her waist as is her head on his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his body wash and the faint linger of hospital antiseptic; the larger her stomach grows the less they seem to fit together these days, but Lexie adores the seconds of reprieve Mark affords her.
The life that Lexie has is nothing like she thought it would be- nothing like her plan said it should be- and while the screaming match in the background doesn’t have nearly the same affect as it did when the twins first learnt to speak, sometimes how comes to mind. How she’s thirty-something and without her own practice, but already a mother of four. How there’s a single diamond ring on her finger and that’s all there’ll ever be, but she’s been alright with that since the day it was placed there. How she shares her life with her husband’s best friend and her wife, her father babysits the kids, and Meredith is now her best friend. How it’s been nearly sixteen years since she gave up on Mark Sloan, since Lexie remembers things like that, and yet she’s been a stepmother for almost thirteen without having broken up a marriage in the process. How it all somehow worked out, and keeps working and how she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet.
“You two!” Mark bellows above her head, “Cut it out.”
“But Aimee doesn’t want to watch Spongebob!”
“Spongebob sucks! Looney Toons is on Retro.”
“Looney Toons su-”
“Nick, you can watch Spongebob first. Then Aimee gets to watch Looney Toons, okay?”
Compromise.
--
“Where’s Dad?”
“In surgery, Nick. Can you please go put on your shoes?”
“Which ones?”
“I don’t care as long as you can put them on yourself. Mom’s tummy is too big to help tie your shoes.”
“The Transformers ones?”
“Go ahead” Lexie nods as she pulls another strand of Aimee’s hair into the braid.
“If Nick gets to wear his Transformers sneakers I wanna wear my chucks.”
“Which ones?”
“The black and white ones. Jess calls them chucks.”
“Jess is fourteen and probably doesn’t wear her chucks with a dress.”
“Totally does,” Aimee shoots back from her position on the kitchen chair, legs swinging wildly beneath the red dress, “She wore ‘em to Grandpa Torres’ birthday last month.”
“Chucks it is.”
--
The majority of the crowd is older; parents in their forties and grandparents in their sixties or seventies with the occasional double-digit aged sibling speckled throughout the seats. The auditorium has filled up almost completely despite there being nearly thirty minutes until the program starts and Lexie isn’t entirely prepared for the stares that follow. She can see the top of Callie’s dark bob and Arizona’s blond curls near the front of the balcony, smacking Nick’s hand away from poking his sister again as Lexie’s father holds her elbow down the stairs; she can’t fit behind the steering wheel of the SUV anymore so her Dad offered to pick them up on his way.
Lexie’s always tried to be accepting that this type of family, her family, doesn’t exactly fit into any traditional mold and for various reasons people may not be comfortable with it. It’s their right to not condone Callie and Arizona’s relationship, or the children she and Mark have had out of wedlock. And years ago, when Jess had first been born, Lexie had felt almost the same way; not that Callie and Arizona shouldn’t be happy but simply that she wanted a traditional family. She wanted a wedding and a career and then children. It had been straightforward and simple.
Yet Lexie’s never been able to shake the discomfort of the judgmental looks that surface when they’re all out together as an extended family, even more so now that her pregnancy is highly visible. She doesn’t expect people to condone her life, she doesn’t need anyone to condone it, but it’s the lack of respect that bothers her the most; that because the life she’s chosen, and yes, she has chosen it despite what anyone else may believe, she somehow doesn’t deserve to be as happy as everyone else or treated with the same decency.
And not just her but her children, like the twins somehow get up to more trouble because of the lifestyle their parents maintain and not at all because there’s two of them working together to cause havoc. Or that Jess’ dream of becoming a psychologist has nothing to do with the specialties of her parents, aunts and uncles, because Jess has heard Aunt Meredith’s horror stories about trying to live up to the family name, and is instead a manifestation of whatever psychological issues caused by having three mothers and one father. That’s the sort of stuff that makes Lexie want to throw her hands up in the air and scream. And even though her hormones are urging her to tell off the whispering grandparents sitting behind Callie and Arizona, Lexie takes a deep breath and wills herself to remain calm. It’s their problem, not hers.
Her father leads Nick and Aimee in front of the rest of the family and Lexie follows; Carlos Torres places a protective hand on her back as she shuffles along before Arizona’s hand grasps her elbow and provides enough support for Lexie to settle into the crushed velvet seat. She doesn’t feel huge, likely because the last time she was pregnant she carried around two, but any additional weight on her frame must make her look like a whale.
“Thanks.”
“Of course. You’re feeling alright? No troubles?”
“None since you asked me Sunday at dinner,” Lexie grins and Arizona laughs, “I’m still tired but taking it easy.”
“Good. Don’t make me threaten to put you on bed rest again.”
It’s easy to laugh as Arizona turns back to Callie who’s fighting with the family video camera, and Lexie takes the moment to try and pry the heels on her feet she stupidly decided to wear off with her toes; there’s absolutely no way she can bend down to take them off and she’s pretty sure her feet are swelling by the second.
“Piece of-”
It takes two languages to cover Callie’s slip but it doesn’t go unnoticed as the two six-year-olds beside Lexie break into a fit of giggles.
--
“You made it,” she hisses as Mark slides into the empty seat between Arizona and herself.
“You doubted me?”
“Ear reattachment's can be problematic. And only you would schedule one for the day of your daughter’s graduation.”
“Nick, sit down and stop poking your sister,” Mark reaches behind her shoulders to tug on the boy’s collar and accompanies the action with a warning look before smiling back at Lexie, “And it was a textbook case, Lex. I wouldn’t have missed this.”
“You’re too arrogant for your own good, Mark Sloan.”
“And you love me anyways. Nicholas, seriously. Stop it.”
--
“Jessica Torres-Sloan.”
She claps wildly along with the rest of the row because even though the young woman walking across stage has a mess of unruly black hair framing her slate blue eyes, she’s as much Lexie’s child as the twins sitting to her left or the one kicking her ribs.
--
Mark’s hand is steady on her back as they make their way through the throng of parents and graduates, looking for a specific smiling face beneath the traditional black cap. It’s Nick who manages to spot her first and Lexie can’t resist the laugh that bubbles up from her chest as the little boy, her little boy, tears through several pairs of legs to throw himself at Jessica. Lexie likes to imagine that Mark was like Nick as a little boy; free-spirited and headstrong and already possessing a love for the ladies, although Nick certainly isn’t very suave as he shrieks like a hyena in his sister’s spinning arms.
“Jess, you’ll make him puke.” Arizona laughs, video camera in hand.
“Naw, I got a stomach like steel! Mom said so!”
“Until you get mac and cheese and purple kool-aid on your sister’s dress” Mark mumbles to Lexie’s right.
“That would be so cool!”
“Mom,” Aimee’s fingers tug the edge of Lexie’s black dress, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”
“Jessica, stop it. I want a picture of us,” Callie’s foot is tapping impatiently.
“Seriously, Mom? You already took a million pictures at home.”
“And your mother wants a million more,” Arizona motions to Mark, “Get in there too.”
Mark picks Nick from Jessica’s arms and sets him on the ground as his other arm slides around his daughter’s waist for the family picture Arizona’s trying to focus on the viewfinder. Lexie leans forward to grab Nick’s hand and pulls his unsteadily swaying body towards hers and out of the picture frame; not for the first time she’s infinitely thankful Nick’s stomach is most likely made out of steel because in her mind the only thing worse than a child with a weak stomach would be two children with weak stomachs.
“Mom, I really gotta go!” Aimee’s hand continues to tug.
“David Anderson invited Amanda and me to a party later; can I go?”
“Sure. Midnight curfew though.”
“Callie!” Mark turns in the middle of the flash from Arizona’s camera, “A boy invited her! No, you can’t go.”
“Dad!”
“Mark!”
“Callie!”
“We’re just going to the bathroom,” Lexie mumbles.
Her Dad nods and Lexie grabs Aimee’s hand before the fit she’s beginning to have ramps up any more, casting a quick glance at the three pairs of crossed arms that accompany the raised voices. Sure, Lexie chose this life and she loves it dearly, but this is one topic she doesn’t want to get involved with in the slightest. Especially when Callie and Jessica together can be terrifying. They’re almost out of earshot of Mark and Callie’s shouting when Arizona’s hand slips into Aimee’s other one and she gives Lexie a tight smile.
“We are not ready for this phase.”
Pairing: Mark Sloan/Lexie Grey, Callie Torres/Arizona Robbins, etc.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to recent episodes.
Summary: The life Lexie thought she wanted is nothing like the one she has.
For richyl88 who bid on me at the fandomaid Flood Auction. I hope you like it!
Somewhere in the recess of Lexie Grey’s mind she can hear the dull hum of the shower running while the pounding of feet on the floor out in the hallway isn’t as recessed, but just hazy. The June heat wave in Seattle has left her feeling sticky with sweat, tossing off the one thin sheet that covered her rounded stomach overnight with a sigh. The footsteps thunder by again and Lexie squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the instinct to get out of bed and see what the kids are getting up to. It’s never if they’re getting up to anything, they are equal parts Sloan and Grey after all, but what and how much damage they’ve managed to cause in the process. If she doesn’t go and head them off now it won’t be long until something crashes.
The hum of the shower is replaced by the hum of the air conditioning, and not for the first time since moving to this house is Lexie thankful that Mark insisted on both built-in air conditioning and a fancy furnace. Seattle weather seemed more unpredictable by the year and Lexie couldn’t imagine being pregnant twice during the summer without the relief of a cool breeze indoors. Sure, she had nearly frozen Mark to death the August before the twins were born but thankfully June and July were the worst they were going to have to handle this time around. Or at least it had been until the thermostat decided to jump and Lexie’s pretty sure that if it continues she’ll just pull out the twins' winter clothes and crank the cold air until the system passes.
Lexie’s not at all surprised when a crash echoes down the hallway, if she has to guess it’s something in Nick’s room, and again, there’s the niggling feeling in the back of her head that she really should get out of bed. There’s who knows what chaos going on out there, the cat is probably hiding in the linen cupboard again after being terrorized, Lexie knows the dishes didn’t magically do themselves overnight because she was too tired to do them yesterday, Mark’s going to want his lucky Yankees tie and he’s going to need her to find it anyways, so why not be proactive, and honestly, she really needs to pee. Baby Sloan #4 is doing a number on her bladder in a way Sloan babies #2 and 3 never did, and Callie never seemed to have the same issue with baby #1, although it’s not like Lexie was privileged to that information at the time.
“What’d they break?” Mark asks coming out of the bathroom in a curtain of steam.
“I don’t know. They’re your children right now.”
“They’re both of ours, Lex,” Mark grins and leans down to press his lips to her swollen stomach, “Just like this one even if she’ll be worse than the twins because they’re going to teach her how to not get caught.”
“I still say it’s a boy.”
“I wish. But you Grey girls like to dominate.”
--
It takes fifteen minutes to coax the cat out of the linen cupboard but Lexie finally ventures down to the kitchen where, miraculously, two heads of curly dark brown hair are sitting at the kitchen table with cereal bowls in front of them. Lexie has learnt that the only time not to be suspicious of relative silence in the Sloan household is when the twins are eating. Her hand ruffles Nick’s mop of curls as she passes behind his chair and then presses a kiss to the top of Aimee’s longer curls, pulled back in a messy half-ponytail; for someone so skilled with a needle and suture thread in hand, Lexie had never been able to understand Mark’s failure when it came to his daughter’s hair. He always got credit for trying, though.
“Dad made us breakfast!”
“I see that. Did you sleep well?”
“Yup. Nick woke me up, though.”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
There’s a tall glass of water sitting at her spot on the table and the condensation is cool against her palm, Lexie catching Mark’s gaze over the edge of the drink raised to her lips. She’s faintly aware of the twins arguing in the background and she should try and stop them but sometimes it’s far easier to just let them peter out on their own; she’s long since stopped thinking about what that says about her parenting skills. Mark’s arm is familiar around her waist as is her head on his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his body wash and the faint linger of hospital antiseptic; the larger her stomach grows the less they seem to fit together these days, but Lexie adores the seconds of reprieve Mark affords her.
The life that Lexie has is nothing like she thought it would be- nothing like her plan said it should be- and while the screaming match in the background doesn’t have nearly the same affect as it did when the twins first learnt to speak, sometimes how comes to mind. How she’s thirty-something and without her own practice, but already a mother of four. How there’s a single diamond ring on her finger and that’s all there’ll ever be, but she’s been alright with that since the day it was placed there. How she shares her life with her husband’s best friend and her wife, her father babysits the kids, and Meredith is now her best friend. How it’s been nearly sixteen years since she gave up on Mark Sloan, since Lexie remembers things like that, and yet she’s been a stepmother for almost thirteen without having broken up a marriage in the process. How it all somehow worked out, and keeps working and how she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet.
“You two!” Mark bellows above her head, “Cut it out.”
“But Aimee doesn’t want to watch Spongebob!”
“Spongebob sucks! Looney Toons is on Retro.”
“Looney Toons su-”
“Nick, you can watch Spongebob first. Then Aimee gets to watch Looney Toons, okay?”
Compromise.
--
“Where’s Dad?”
“In surgery, Nick. Can you please go put on your shoes?”
“Which ones?”
“I don’t care as long as you can put them on yourself. Mom’s tummy is too big to help tie your shoes.”
“The Transformers ones?”
“Go ahead” Lexie nods as she pulls another strand of Aimee’s hair into the braid.
“If Nick gets to wear his Transformers sneakers I wanna wear my chucks.”
“Which ones?”
“The black and white ones. Jess calls them chucks.”
“Jess is fourteen and probably doesn’t wear her chucks with a dress.”
“Totally does,” Aimee shoots back from her position on the kitchen chair, legs swinging wildly beneath the red dress, “She wore ‘em to Grandpa Torres’ birthday last month.”
“Chucks it is.”
--
The majority of the crowd is older; parents in their forties and grandparents in their sixties or seventies with the occasional double-digit aged sibling speckled throughout the seats. The auditorium has filled up almost completely despite there being nearly thirty minutes until the program starts and Lexie isn’t entirely prepared for the stares that follow. She can see the top of Callie’s dark bob and Arizona’s blond curls near the front of the balcony, smacking Nick’s hand away from poking his sister again as Lexie’s father holds her elbow down the stairs; she can’t fit behind the steering wheel of the SUV anymore so her Dad offered to pick them up on his way.
Lexie’s always tried to be accepting that this type of family, her family, doesn’t exactly fit into any traditional mold and for various reasons people may not be comfortable with it. It’s their right to not condone Callie and Arizona’s relationship, or the children she and Mark have had out of wedlock. And years ago, when Jess had first been born, Lexie had felt almost the same way; not that Callie and Arizona shouldn’t be happy but simply that she wanted a traditional family. She wanted a wedding and a career and then children. It had been straightforward and simple.
Yet Lexie’s never been able to shake the discomfort of the judgmental looks that surface when they’re all out together as an extended family, even more so now that her pregnancy is highly visible. She doesn’t expect people to condone her life, she doesn’t need anyone to condone it, but it’s the lack of respect that bothers her the most; that because the life she’s chosen, and yes, she has chosen it despite what anyone else may believe, she somehow doesn’t deserve to be as happy as everyone else or treated with the same decency.
And not just her but her children, like the twins somehow get up to more trouble because of the lifestyle their parents maintain and not at all because there’s two of them working together to cause havoc. Or that Jess’ dream of becoming a psychologist has nothing to do with the specialties of her parents, aunts and uncles, because Jess has heard Aunt Meredith’s horror stories about trying to live up to the family name, and is instead a manifestation of whatever psychological issues caused by having three mothers and one father. That’s the sort of stuff that makes Lexie want to throw her hands up in the air and scream. And even though her hormones are urging her to tell off the whispering grandparents sitting behind Callie and Arizona, Lexie takes a deep breath and wills herself to remain calm. It’s their problem, not hers.
Her father leads Nick and Aimee in front of the rest of the family and Lexie follows; Carlos Torres places a protective hand on her back as she shuffles along before Arizona’s hand grasps her elbow and provides enough support for Lexie to settle into the crushed velvet seat. She doesn’t feel huge, likely because the last time she was pregnant she carried around two, but any additional weight on her frame must make her look like a whale.
“Thanks.”
“Of course. You’re feeling alright? No troubles?”
“None since you asked me Sunday at dinner,” Lexie grins and Arizona laughs, “I’m still tired but taking it easy.”
“Good. Don’t make me threaten to put you on bed rest again.”
It’s easy to laugh as Arizona turns back to Callie who’s fighting with the family video camera, and Lexie takes the moment to try and pry the heels on her feet she stupidly decided to wear off with her toes; there’s absolutely no way she can bend down to take them off and she’s pretty sure her feet are swelling by the second.
“Piece of-”
It takes two languages to cover Callie’s slip but it doesn’t go unnoticed as the two six-year-olds beside Lexie break into a fit of giggles.
--
“You made it,” she hisses as Mark slides into the empty seat between Arizona and herself.
“You doubted me?”
“Ear reattachment's can be problematic. And only you would schedule one for the day of your daughter’s graduation.”
“Nick, sit down and stop poking your sister,” Mark reaches behind her shoulders to tug on the boy’s collar and accompanies the action with a warning look before smiling back at Lexie, “And it was a textbook case, Lex. I wouldn’t have missed this.”
“You’re too arrogant for your own good, Mark Sloan.”
“And you love me anyways. Nicholas, seriously. Stop it.”
--
“Jessica Torres-Sloan.”
She claps wildly along with the rest of the row because even though the young woman walking across stage has a mess of unruly black hair framing her slate blue eyes, she’s as much Lexie’s child as the twins sitting to her left or the one kicking her ribs.
--
Mark’s hand is steady on her back as they make their way through the throng of parents and graduates, looking for a specific smiling face beneath the traditional black cap. It’s Nick who manages to spot her first and Lexie can’t resist the laugh that bubbles up from her chest as the little boy, her little boy, tears through several pairs of legs to throw himself at Jessica. Lexie likes to imagine that Mark was like Nick as a little boy; free-spirited and headstrong and already possessing a love for the ladies, although Nick certainly isn’t very suave as he shrieks like a hyena in his sister’s spinning arms.
“Jess, you’ll make him puke.” Arizona laughs, video camera in hand.
“Naw, I got a stomach like steel! Mom said so!”
“Until you get mac and cheese and purple kool-aid on your sister’s dress” Mark mumbles to Lexie’s right.
“That would be so cool!”
“Mom,” Aimee’s fingers tug the edge of Lexie’s black dress, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”
“Jessica, stop it. I want a picture of us,” Callie’s foot is tapping impatiently.
“Seriously, Mom? You already took a million pictures at home.”
“And your mother wants a million more,” Arizona motions to Mark, “Get in there too.”
Mark picks Nick from Jessica’s arms and sets him on the ground as his other arm slides around his daughter’s waist for the family picture Arizona’s trying to focus on the viewfinder. Lexie leans forward to grab Nick’s hand and pulls his unsteadily swaying body towards hers and out of the picture frame; not for the first time she’s infinitely thankful Nick’s stomach is most likely made out of steel because in her mind the only thing worse than a child with a weak stomach would be two children with weak stomachs.
“Mom, I really gotta go!” Aimee’s hand continues to tug.
“David Anderson invited Amanda and me to a party later; can I go?”
“Sure. Midnight curfew though.”
“Callie!” Mark turns in the middle of the flash from Arizona’s camera, “A boy invited her! No, you can’t go.”
“Dad!”
“Mark!”
“Callie!”
“We’re just going to the bathroom,” Lexie mumbles.
Her Dad nods and Lexie grabs Aimee’s hand before the fit she’s beginning to have ramps up any more, casting a quick glance at the three pairs of crossed arms that accompany the raised voices. Sure, Lexie chose this life and she loves it dearly, but this is one topic she doesn’t want to get involved with in the slightest. Especially when Callie and Jessica together can be terrifying. They’re almost out of earshot of Mark and Callie’s shouting when Arizona’s hand slips into Aimee’s other one and she gives Lexie a tight smile.
“We are not ready for this phase.”