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01 April 2010 @ 05:16 pm
O Kind Readers: Been a long time since I've put anything up here - or anywhere for that matter. Hoping I can change that.

Say You Promise

Izzie's eyes opened wide with sudden horrible fright. The thudding of her heart filled her ears as she scanned the room, attention bouncing from the alarm clock on her bedside table to the closet door on the far wall to the rattling ceiling fan overhead.
Then she turned her head and saw George's face half-buried on the pillow next to hers, his jaw muscles slack in sound sleep. At that, she felt herself breathe again.
An impulse raced through her: touch him, make sure.
So she reached for one of his hands.
Confirmation. Warm skin, solid bones, steady pulse.
Thank God.
"Mmph," he said. It wasn't so much speech as it was an exhalation.
She looked across the bed at the length of his body, which was hugging the edge of the comforter. A jagged piece of her just-completed nightmare sliced its way into her mind's eye for a moment as she looked at him; she had to close her eyes to push the awful thought away.
When she opened her eyes again, his were open too.
"What?" he asked, voice drowsy and soft.
"You – you need to promise me something," she said.
His eyelids drifted toward closing again. "Promise you," he said.
"Yeah," she said.
"Mmph," he said. "What?"
"Promise me you won't leave," she said.
George's head rose off the pillow. "Won't...what? Leave you?"
"Yeah," Izzie said. "And we won't break up ever. For anybody or anything."
He smiled a bit at that. "Sorry to say you're stuck with me."
She frowned back. "Say you promise," Izzie said.
The corners of his mouth drifted back down. "Promise."
"And..." Her lips curled a bit as the ugly memory of a passing bit of imagining gashed her again. She looked him straight in the eye. "Promise me...promise me you won't die."
The words took him by surprise, and as they did, he noticed the tremor in her voice. The fear behind her gaze. "Izzie?" he asked.
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "Please," she said.
Without a word or a wasted movement, George slipped his body across the bed and pulled her so very close to him, then held her there as she let go of heavy, anguished sobs.
And as she cried, her fear began to drain away, until all she could feel was the depth and warmth of his love for her.
"I'm here," he said. And then, with that tenderly affectionate tone that was reserved for her and her alone, he added, "And I'm not going anywhere."
She buried her face in his neck. "Promise," she said, holding him even tighter.
He turned his lips to her ear. "Promise," he replied.

The End

24 December 2009 @ 05:54 pm
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, etc....

The greeting page says I haven't updated in 22 weeks. Sounds about right.

Two things to let you know about, both of which happened in the time I was away:

1) I'm engaged - which makes me a lucky and blessed man.

2) I nearly died in a car accident, but didn't - which makes me an especially lucky and blessed man.

...more later...
19 July 2009 @ 08:50 pm

May I Get What I Want and Not What I Deserve

Izzie's eyes opened, and just as she was turning her head to get a glimpse of the alarm clock, her nose filled with the hearty scents of breakfast foods. She rolled out of bed, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and straightened out her wrinkled PJs as she wandered down the hall to the kitchen to find her George bathed in the morning sun, dressed in his standard morning-off attire (a long-sleeved and well-worn T-shirt, rumpled blue jeans and those old running shoes that she was sure she'd thrown away at least twice), setting the kitchen table.

He didn't even look in her direction as he put down the last of the silverware with napkin-muffled clinks. “Just in time, honey,” he said, as if on cue. She took a long look at the table. Fresh flowers sat in the center, posed in one of her large vases , which last time she'd checked, was sitting dusty and dry and empty in the garage. Carafes of ice-cold orange juice and milk rested on either side. A bowl of fruit salad, and a pair of plates heaped with still-steaming scrambled eggs and bacon.

Her stomach rumbled audibly. If it tasted half as good...

You okay?” George asked, breaking through her haze.

You made this?” Izzie asked, still standing in the doorway.

Yep,” George said. “Well, except for the flowers. Those I can't take credit for.” He pulled out a chair for her, and motioned for her to sit.

We had bacon?” she wondered as she crossed the floor to him.

No,” he replied. “And we were down to three eggs.”

So not only did you cook breakfast, you went shopping?” Izzie shook her head. “For me?”

And for me,” he said, mock-defensively. Then he smiled shyly. “But yes, mostly for you.”

A tinge of amazement leaked into her voice. “When did you wake up?”

George's eyes narrowed, a drowsy parody of thought. “Four. Or thereabouts.”

You keeping intern hours again?” Izzie giggled.

Actually, I didn't really sleep that much, what with you – you know - ”

Telling you that I'm having your baby and then agreeing to marry you?”

Yeah, those things,” he chuckled.

The baby's non-negotiable, you know. And so's the wedding, handsome.”

I know,” George replied. “That's not why I couldn't sleep.” He exhaled. “I want to propose again. In public.”

Okay,” Izzie said. “You will be clothed, right?”

He pretended to frown. “I guess so.”

She giggled. “Oh, and hey – can we make it look like – nah.”

George smiled back at her. “What?”

Nothing,” she said, popping a forkful of egg into her mouth.

What?” he repeated. “Just tell me what you were thinking.”

Izzie swallowed the food, a mischievious smile crossing her lips. “I was thinking we could make it look like...like a huge surprise.” Her eyes sparkled as she giggled again. “You can make this ginormous thing out of it, you know, and I'll act all shocked and happy and we can watch everybody's faces. Give 'em a story to tell their grandkids.”

George laughed out loud. “I like it! They'll feel special!”

Exactly,” Izzie said, taking a bite of bacon. “And if you still have that ring...”

George pulled a navy box from his pocket. “You know I do.”

Izzie smiled at the sight of it, and motioned for him to hand it to her.

He knelt next to her and pressed a kiss against her upturned cheek as he set the box on her palm. She smiled at him and opened it. The light caught the diamond chip and sparkled just a bit. “I'm glad you kept it,” she said softly.

Me too,” George replied. His next words came out firmly, like he had practiced them and wanted to make sure they were clear. “Izzie, I want to marry you very soon,” he said.

Izzie's eyes narrowed. “How soon?”

George pursed his lips, then smiled. “Tuesday.”

Izzie wheeled at that. “This Tuesday?”

Yeah,” George replied with an involuntary nod.

Izzie set her fork down. “Seriously?”

George leaned closer to her. “Seriously. Today's Wednesday. We do the blood test today, we get the results Friday morning at the latest. We apply for the certificate then, we'll have it by Monday afternoon. And then comes Tuesday. We can do it in the afternoon. I'll get one of my brothers to be a witness, and you can - ” His voice stopped when noticed a soft sadness in her eyes. “What?”

Tuesday,” she near-whispered. “You want to marry me Tuesday, George?”

Izzie, I've wanted to marry you every day for the last three years,” he said earnestly. “I just didn't have the opportunity.”

She looked into his eyes. “I love you, George, and I want to be your wife with my whole heart - but – I don't wanna marry you on Tuesday.”

He swallowed hard. “Why not?”

Because, George - I don't want to just get married. I want a wedding,” Izzie said. “I want to be in a church, in front of our friends and family. I want to see you in a tuxedo, dressed to the nines. I want to wear a beautiful white gown that I'll pack away after the ceremony and never need or want to put on again. I want – I want the fairy tale, I guess. And I know I can't have all of it, but I'd like to get close.” She set the ring on the table, then pressed a kiss on to his cheek. “I want to be Mrs. George O'Malley, to have kids with you, grow old with you. And I want to start that right away. But...”

But not starting Tuesday,” he said softly.

Izzie looked at him hopefully. “You understand? Please say you understand.”

George smiled sadly. “I guess.” He glanced at the clock above the kitchen sink. “Nuts. It's after 8 already.” He noticed Izzie's confused expression and said, “I promised Bailey I'd take over the Pit at 10, so...”

You need to go,” Izzie said. “She's counting on you.”

Yeah,” George replied. He lifted the ring off the table and stuffed it back into his pocket. “My Pit shift's gonna keep me from getting home until after midnight, so don't wait up.”

Okay,” she said. He nodded at her and started away. As he was walking out, she called after him. “Tell me I didn't break your heart, George. Or ruin your plans. 'Cause if I did, you know I didn't mean to.”

He turned his head back to her. “I was thinking the same thing,” he replied.

Izzie sat alone at the table, food cooling in front of her, and waited for the sound of the front door opening and closing, all the while wondering if she should have just said yes.

To be continued...

13 June 2009 @ 02:46 am
28 questions. Answer 'em (a few, some or all) at your own pace.

1. Your Middle Name:
2. Age:
3. Single or Taken:
4. Favourite Film:
5. Favourite Song or Album:
6. Favourite Band/Artist:
7. Dirty or Clean:
8. Tattoos and/or Piercings:
9. Do we know each other outside of LJ?
10. What's your philosophy on life?
11. Is the bottle half-full or half-empty?
12. Would you keep a secret from me if you thought it was in my best interest?
13. What is your favorite memory of us?
14. What is your favorite guilty pleasure?
15. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you:
16. You can have three wishes (for yourself, so forget all the 'world peace etc' malarky) - what are they?
17. Can we get together and make a cake?
18. Which country is your spiritual home?
19. What is your big weakness?
20. Do you think I'm a good person?
21. What was your best/favorite subject at school?
22. Describe your accent:
23. If you could change anything about me, would you?
24. What do you wear to sleep?
25. Trousers or skirts?
26. Cigarettes or alcohol?
27. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together? (If you have no idea, just say something crazy, it'll entertain me!)
28. Will you repost this so I can fill it out for you?
I wrote this right after I finished watching the season finale.

It's different than a lot of my work...darker...sadder...but I like it...

I've already posted it at FanForum, but I wanted to bring it here, too...

"Over and Over"

I see it over and over. That corner. The girl.

I see it over and over. From all different perspectives. From high in the sky, from across the street.

Crossed that street at that corner so many times. So many times.

Never saw her before.

She's cute. I like her haircut. Nice perfume she's wearing. Light. Light as the breeze.

Crossed that street so many times. Never saw her before.

I see it over and over. From in front of her, from behind me.

I see myself think for a moment. That moment just before our eyes meet.

I'm thinking about saying something.

Something clever. Something funny.

“I'm reporting for duty tomorrow,” I'm thinking. “Gonna be a trauma surgeon in the Army.”

I'm thinking about saying something. I smile at her as I'm putting the words together.

“Gonna be going to Iraq,” I'm thinking. “I report tomorrow. I might not be coming back.”

I smile at her as I'm putting the words together. My best smile.

One of my at-one-time-reserved-for-you-know-who smiles.

I'm thinking about saying something.

She ignores me.

I see myself smiling. I see that she ignores me.

I see it over and over. That corner. The girl.

She ignores me. Disappointment blooms in my belly. It's an expression I'm used to nowadays.

I see it.

She starts into the street. One step, two steps.

I see it. From high in the sky, from across the street.

From in front of her, from behind me.

The bus, long and silver and squared.

I see it.

She starts into the street. One step, two steps.


I see it over and over.

I see me, lunging off the curb. Lunging out. Lunging toward.

I never knew I could fly.

One step.

There she goes. Disappointment blooms.

Two steps.

The bus, long and silver and squared.


I can fly.

I see it over and over. I see me, swapping her body for mine at that corner.

I see it over and over. I see me, taking the brunt for the girl.

I see it over and over. I see me, from high in the sky, from across the street, from in front of her, from behind me, struck down with such horrific force that I no longer recognize any part of me.

I don't feel the concussion or the snap or the crush. But I see it.

I see it over and over.

I don't want to see it again. Please.

Just let me see her.

Just her.

She's cute. I like her haircut.

Maybe this time I'll say something.


ETA: Like a lot of my faster postings, my first draft was a stream of consciousness...it popped into my head, and I just started writing - I added exactly seven words to it as polish before I put it here...

...so as you can imagine, when I write like that, I don't see the words or parse them or make reconsiderations; I hear them and just go...

I tell you all that to tell you this: I'm putting this story into a different format for a later posting...something that I hope will reflect how I experienced this story in my theater of the mind...which - hopefully - isn't as pretentious as it sounds... :)

14 February 2009 @ 01:27 am


Okay, So When A Man and A Woman Love Each Other Very Much... (PG-13)


George O'Malley stood in the shower and took it in. One of the pleasures of life was a long, hot shower, and George was intent on taking his sweet time. No rushing in and out today, no sir. It was a Tuesday, he had the whole day off, and he was going to enjoy this to its fullest. He grabbed the halfway-to-slivered bar of Irish Spring and started to lather up, letting the warmth of the needles of water lull his muscles into relaxation.


He had not meant to spend so much time at the hospital last night. When he found a cold plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes in the microwave, a shiver had rolled through him. Izzie was unconscious in their bed, and had been for awhile, obviously.


His stomach burned a little at that moment. And deservedly.


So when he heard the bathroom door open this morning, he felt a little tension in his belly. Again, deservedly.


George?” he heard Izzie's voice pipe over the water.


Hi,” he replied.


There was a palpable silence.


Last night,” George started.


Forget it,” she said.


No,” he moaned. “I – I wanted to come home right away after scrubbing in with Bailey on that kid's stomach, but then that visiting neuro guy from Dublin – the one who found out my name's O'Malley – grabbed me out of the locker room, and he was all, 'help a fellow Irishman save a lady with a head trauma' and all that.”


He could still hear Izzie breathing, but couldn't judge her mood. All he knew was that she hadn't left yet, so maybe she was listening, even empathizing – so he decided to keep going.


And he's a big deal, right?” George asked. “I mean, if Shepard's all weak-in-the-knees around him, then he must be. So I couldn't say no. I should have, okay, I know, but I just - ”


I'm pregnant,” Izzie interrupted.


George felt his body lock up under the water, as her words clanged in his ears. He did, however, muster an “uhh...”


I missed my period three weeks ago,” Izzie continued, her voice gentle. “I didn't want to worry you, so I didn't say anything, 'cause I didn't think it was anything to worry about.”


Again, “uhh” was all George had, as his brain raced to remember when they -


Naughty Izzie.


An on-call room.


Seven-and-a-half minutes of the greatest sex ever.


- oh, yeah, he thought.


Then I woke up yesterday morning, and I had this...twinge...and since I had felt one like it before...” He heard a tear shimmer in her voice, then evaporate. “I peed on a couple of stick tests, and both came out positive.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I was going to tell you last night.”


George pushed out his breath and reached to shut off the water, but as he did, he found his mind suddenly swimming in doubt.


Izzie apparently noticed his shaky posture and took some deep breaths of her own before speaking again. “I've got all these feelings just rushing through me. Ever since I saw that second 'plus' sign.” She sighed as she leaned against a wall. “I'm exhilarated and shocked and amazed...and scared. Right now, I might be as scared as I've ever been, to tell you the truth, because I don't know what's going to happen, but – but I'm happy, too, George, because the one image that I cannot shake is how beautiful our baby is going to be.” She swallowed a sob. “What're you thinking?” she asked.


He slid the curtain open, and caught Izzie's eye, all the while considering his words. He wanted them to be right, so that there would be no misunderstanding. “I'm thinking...I love you,” he said softly. “And that this...this is a dream come true.”


A smile burst across Izzie's face, and the room filled with a warm, lovely light. “Really?” she asked, her voice a joyous quake.


Yeah,” George replied, stepping out of the shower and into her arms, which made her shriek with delight. An impulse tightened his hold, and her laughter subsided.


So, Isobel Stevens,” he whispered into her ear. “Does this mean...does this mean you'll finally marry me?”

Her head came away from his shoulder, and her eyes found his. Happy tears began to flow. “Yes, George O'Malley,” she said with a tender hush. “Yes, it does.

More to come...

07 February 2009 @ 12:09 pm

Premonition (PG-13)

Izzie was standing in line at the coffee cart, and yawning again. She couldn’t believe that she was feeling as tired as she did. She'd slept deep and long the night before, snuggled close to her George. Her day had been uneventful, but not dull or slow at all. But as she felt another yawn bubble up and push through her, her mind reeled a little.

As she was finishing another exhalation, she heard a roll of children's laughter from across the way. Izzie tilted her head, and peered past the new girl who was fussing over her latte, and caught a glimpse of the commotion.

What she saw warmed her heart: a man in the waiting room, no older than George, but with lighter, finer hair and maybe ten pounds heavier, with three cute little kids buzzing around him. They were all tow-headed blondes under the age of six, and all of them could be heard calling him “Daddy." They were nothing but smiles and giggles as the man actively played with them, talking in funny voices as the four of them shared moments of make-believe with action figures from the waiting room toy chest.

A large smile overtook Izzie's face as she felt her body lifting at the sight. Her tiredness melted away as she fished a five out of her pocket, took her coffee, and headed for the elevators, her body now warm and awake.

She found George exactly where she had hoped he would be – asleep in the smaller of the two on-call rooms on the third floor. She watched his body rise and fall with his soft breaths, and admired his rumply sky blue scrubs. Her eyes traced him for a moment: the length of his legs, the width of his back and shoulders, the tone of his arm muscles, the shagginess of his dark hair.

His scrub top had ridden up a little as he had settled into sleep, and the narrow sliver of bared skin at the small of his back was more than a little tantalizing. A brief fantasy began blossoming in her brain, one of her tenderly kissing the exposed patch, and slipping her hands under his scrubs to explore that lovely skin of his, and feeling him come to life under her increasingly hungry touch…

Quit staring at me,” she heard him say, his voice drowsy. He turned his eyes to her and offered a sleepy smile.

She had to smile back. Even when he was semi-conscious, he could still make her melt, she marveled. “Sorry, love,” she replied.

No need to apologize,” he said, rolling onto his side. He patted the thin mattress. “Plenty of room if you wanna hop in for a while,” he added.

She set her coffee on the windowsill next to the door, then took the two or three paces to the bed. He cupped her hand in his, then pressed her fingers to his lips, which made her heart suddenly leap.

She laid down facing him, and lengthened her body against his. Her soft curves pressed against his firmed muscle and flesh. Then without warning, she stole a lingering kiss from his lips.

When it broke, he was fully awake. “What was that for?”

Just because I wanted to,” she replied, running her hand down his side, and letting it come to rest on his hip. “Well, Naughty Izzie wanted to. I, personally, was fighting it all the way.”

Hmm,” George said. “Can you keep her under control?”

I’m trying,” she said. “It’s just – she hasn’t been this close to you in a couple of days – and – ” She interrupted herself by kissing him again, more intensely now.

She keeps breaking through, huh?” he asked at the tail end of their lip-lock.

Izzie’s face was hot, her voice breathy. “Naughty Izzie’s surprisingly strong. Can’t let down my guard for an instant.”

George nodded. “So I had better not touch you, right?”


And I certainly shouldn’t kiss you.”


“’Cause Naughty Izzie, she’s powerful. And dangerous.” George breathed deeply as his eyes grazed over the curve of her neck. “And sexy as all get-out.”

Mm-hmm.” Her tongue flicked out over her reddened lips.

And once she takes over, she’ll want to do – ” George stifled a giggle. “What would she want to do?”

Lots of things,” she said softly, her eyes keeping his. “Uh-oh,” she purred. “Naughty Izzie is bubbling up again. And I don’t think I’ll be able to hold her back this time.”

George’s eyes twinkled with mischief, but he kept a mock-sternness about his jaw. “I’ll have you know, miss, I’ve got ten minutes, tops. And I’m not that easy.”

Yes, you are. And ten minutes…” Izzie grinned. “You know what I’m capable of, once I put myself to it.” The hand that was on his hip snaked under the waistband of his pants.

Feeling her hand moving across his aroused flesh, George gave a warm, throaty laugh. “Okay, you got me. Naughty Izzie wins again.” He kissed her other hand, then looked her in the eyes, his playfulness gone for the moment. “But seriously, I’ve actually only got like nine minutes.”

Izzie nodded in understanding, then flashed a sultry grin, and started untying her scrubs as he did the same.

Seven and three-quarters minutes later, she rested in his arms, a little look of incredulous delight across her face. George was gripping her tightly in his arms, his face pressed against her neck. “Wow,” he gasped. “That was – it was – wow.”

Good wow, right?” she asked, hoping that he felt the same amazed thrill.

Great wow.” He pressed a soft kiss against her ear, and whispered, “I love you,” words that, when they came from him, always seemed a little more tender and genuine to her ear, and then he added, “Thank you. Seriously, thank you.” He exhaled. “How was it for you? Was it - ”

She turned her head so he could see her expression; the light in her eyes, the joy of her smile.

George smiled back at her. “So it was - ”

Wow,” she replied. Indeed, she had never felt this good. Never.

And just for an instant, as George's lips touched hers again, she could have sworn that she heard those little kids laughing again, carefree and happy and full of life.

More to come...

27 October 2008 @ 05:22 pm
Tom Sez: This is a fic that came about thanks to holycitygirl's purchase of my writing services during the Support Stacie author auction...I think it turned out quite lovely, and I hope you'll like it too.

A special thanks to HCG for telling me to share it!  

The Best Part of Wakin' Up  (G)

Izzie caught George on the elevator. He’d shoved something into his mouth, and quickly shoved his hands into his lab coat pockets. She sniffed the air, and caught the scents of cooked mystery meat and sugary dough. “What are you eating?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he replied, mouth still full.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” she replied.

“It’s – it’s just my breakfast, Izzie. Something to fill the tank.” A hard frown froze on his lips as he swallowed. “What do you care?”

“I care,” Izzie protested. “I care about what you eat. What is it?”

George’s mouth made a few contortions, like he was checking for identifiable flavors. “Sausage,” he muttered. “Wrapped in a pancake,” he added. Then, almost as an aside, “On a stick,” he concluded.

Izzie’s face twisted with revulsion. “Erggh,” she gurgled. “How can you eat that?”

George shook his head at her question. “It’s good,” he said, obviously trying to believe it himself. “And packed with…” he added, searching for more words to defend his meal choice, “…blueberry-licious. Ness.”

She stifled a giggle. “That what it says on the box?”

“No,” George retorted. Then he caught the gruff tone of his response, and retreated. “Yes.”

“George O’Malley,” Izzie scolded, catching his eye. “If you want pancakes and sausage, come over to the house. I would be thrilled to make breakfast for you.”

“No,” he replied hastily, breaking contact with her. “No, no, no. I don’t want to…you know …interrupt or interfere or get anybody out of bed...” he said, stumbling around to catch his thoughts, but not stopping to let them collect. “I mean, thanks, but no…this is faster, okay, this is easier and they taste fine.” He found a scratch on the elevator wall to eyeball. “Actually, they’re pretty good, tell you the truth. I mean, they aren’t your blueberry pancakes, and the sausage isn’t…uh…but they’re fine, you know? For a quick…”

The elevator ding pulled his eyes back to Izzie, who now looked a good three inches shorter. “Saved by the bell, huh?” she said with a sad smile.

The doors opened and she started to leave when he reached out and touched her arm. She froze in place.

George blew out a breath. “I hate this,” he groaned.

“Me too,” Izzie replied, turning back to face him.

“I don’t see you, I don’t talk to you, I – I’m just so sick of it,” he said.

“Makes two of us,” she replied. “So maybe you should come over for breakfast.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I should.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked, hope trickling into her voice.

He sighed with a little smile. “Okay, yeah. Tomorrow.”

Izzie beamed. “Awesome!” she cheered, and her whole being seemed to lift off the floor.

George felt his insides warm at her happiness. He’d forgotten how good that sensation was. “Yeah, awesome,” he said.

Izzie practically skipped off the elevator, and George watched her leave, a broad grin on his face. He stuck his hands back into his pockets, and his expression melted to disgust.
“Knew I shouldn't have had a second one in my coat,” he grimaced, withdrawing a dough-and-sausage-slicked hand.
The End
29 September 2008 @ 06:40 pm

We Don’t Have to Take Our Clothes Off


Nine-twenty in the morning.

Izzie admired George from across the clinic. He was so dashing in his blue scrubs and white coat, she thought, flashing that bright smile of his at the grey-haired man who was seated on the edge of the hospital bed. The older man’s brow wrinkled with concern, and George’s smile faded. He nodded with respectful recognition, made a few marks on the chart, then took up his part of the conversation, obviously asking the questions that needed to be asked. The older man’s expression relaxed as he answered and George made occasional notes, without interruption or argument.

It made her proud. That’s what her George did, Izzie thought. He focused on his patients. He listened and he cared.

And he was cute. She kind of wished that he hadn’t put on the lab coat; his scrub tops always accentuated how nicely toned his arm muscles were.

And if she had her druthers, she’d make those tops optional for him. No – he could never wear them, ever.

She found herself imagining him without his coat, without his shirt. It was in the middle of her reverie – and deciding if she wanted to see him without his pants – that she noticed he’d caught her looking. She felt herself blushing a little, and her cheeks only grew hotter when his smile broadened. It was only for her, and she knew it.

A nurse interrupted their flirting with a light tap on Izzie’s arm. Once she was done checking the chart the nurse had handed her, Izzie’s mind went back to George, who was walking past her now, and the warmth of his scent filled her senses, and she just had to follow him.

She just had to.

Izzie was ushering George into a linen closet by eleven forty-one, had him shirtless thirty seconds later, was shirtless and nearly braless herself in under a minute and a half. He was fondling her breasts with his strong hands, following every touch with a kiss, and working his way down her body with a deliberate lack of speed.  Normally she would have noticed that the steel and wood of the door was chilly as she pressed her bare back against it, but there were sensations bursting through her that were holding her nerves attention.

George brushing his lips against her stomach while untying her scrub pants with his left hand, creating little sparks that shot through her, for example.

Or his right hand caressing her left breast through the satin and lace of her unhooked-but-not-yet-discarded brassiere.

Or the intensity of his kisses against the soft skin of her inner thighs.

“Oh…” she whispered, “…that’s good….”

“Mmm,” he replied, mouth busy.

His hands smoothed over her hips. His thumbs hooked into the waistband of her panties. “Oh, Izzie,” he whispered against her flesh. “You’re so beautiful.”

Then there was a light tug, followed by a wet, deep, lingering kiss on her hottest, softest skin.

And then licks. Licks of all sorts, inside and out.

Izzie felt like she was beginning to lift off the floor, rising and spinning, and she clenched her muscles to keep from floating away. “Be inside me, George,” she moaned, and felt him smile against her.

Then he rose to his full height, and their eyes met in the dim light. She felt the length of his body against hers, and the firmness of his manhood pressed tight to her thigh. And then, with no wasted motion, he and she were suddenly one.

Twenty minutes later, they appeared in the cafeteria, one just before the other. George looked carelessly dressed, and had his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. Izzie’s blonde hair was catching air currents as she flew toward the lunch line. George made a beeline for the table where Meredith and Cristina were sitting, picking at salads and sandwiches, and chatting about one thing or another.

“Hey, George,” Meredith said, just before she looked up to see his nervous eyes. She squinted at him. “What’s up?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” he replied in a shaky voice.

 Izzie materialized next to him, dropped her tray on to the table’s surface, and flopped into a chair. A loud sigh exited her throat, and her eyes were just as unfocused.

Meredith and Cristina eyeballed their fellow residents. They exchanged “you-ask, no-you-ask” glances for a moment before Izzie broke the tension for them.

“So,” Izzie said.  “Me and George.” Her mouth resealed as she looked at him.  It was obvious that they had a common thought at the moment, but didn’t dare speak.   

“Trouble in paradise for Seattle Grace’s cuh-yutest couple?” Cristina muttered.

Izzie’s thought still ran through her mind, so she merely shrugged and chewed on her lower lip. George opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but couldn’t.

Meredith frowned. “What is it?”

Izzie blew out a breath, and found the words. “We got caught,” she said.

“Caught?” Meredith asked.

“You know,” Izzie said. “Having sex.”

“Aw, jeez,” Cristina said, shaking her head and dropping her fork.  “I just started eating, Barbie.”

Meredith ignored the overdramatic brunette at her side, and turned her eyes to the duo across the way. “Where?” she asked innocently.

“Linen closet on two,” George said.

“Who caught you?” Meredith asked.

“Don’t encourage them,” Cristina groaned.

“One of the new interns. Scarpello, maybe?” George said, searching his memory.

“It doesn’t matter,” Izzie said. “We got caught. We got caught because we’re having too much sex.”

George nodded tightly.

Cristina pushed her tray away. “Good God,” she breathed.

Meredith seemed fascinated, however. “Too much? There’s such a thing?”

“Yes,” Izzie replied.  “It’s not normal. It can’t be.”  She caught her friends’ expressions, and pursed her lips in frustration, grasping George’s hand.  “I mean…it’s not like I don’t want sex with him.” 

“Or me with her,” George added.

“And it’s not like the sex is bad or anything,” Izzie said. “In fact, it’s all kinds of incredible.”

“Really?” George asked, leaning in closer to her.

“You don’t know that?” she replied in warm, rich tone, her attention now fully on him. “You don’t know what you do to me, George?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

“Hey, we’re still sitting here,” Cristina interrupted.

Izzie and George snapped to attention. “Sorry,” they mumbled.

 “See, that’s what keeps happening,” George said, looking at Izzie with a lusty adoration. “She’s so beautiful and…distracting…but in the best way ever.”

Meredith pointed at them. “Arm’s length,” she said.

“What?” Izzie asked.

“You two,” Meredith commanded. “Sit an arm’s length apart.”

“But – “

“No buts. And no touching, no looking, no distracting.”

Cristina smiled at Meredith proudly. “Excellent thinking, Doctor Grey.”

“Thank you,” Meredith replied.

Izzie and George sighed heavily, then scooted their chairs apart.

“Good,” Meredith said.

Cristina reached for her tray again, and eyed her salad with a growing hunger.

“Now. Talk about your problem,” Meredith said, adding, “Such as it is.”

Cristina let out a sour moan and once again pushed her tray out of reach, her hunger forgotten again.

Izzie stole a glance at George, then looked back at Meredith and took another cleansing breath. “Okay. I can’t get anything done at home,” she said. “I only clean the bathroom twice a week now. The living room dusting is suffering.  And the vacuum doesn’t even get turned on anymore.”

“’Cause you’re the one getting turned on?” Cristina chuckled humorlessly.

“Laugh it up – “

“I will, thanks,” Cristina said.

“ – but that is not easy for me.” Izzie trained her wide eyes on Meredith. “You know how I get when I don’t stick to my chore schedule. It makes me very – errgghh -” She closed her eyes and shuddered.

“Aww, Iz, I’m sorry,” George said softly. “If you would have just said something – “

“Shh, it’s not your turn, George,” Meredith said, then nodded at Izzie sympathetically. “So, he’s all over you?”

“Are you kidding? I’m all over him,” Izzie said. “He’s just so…available.” She rested her head in her hands. “We spent all that time apart, y’know, figuring out who we were. And when he and I both finally got that we belonged together, no matter what anyone else thought – “

“And it was about time,” Meredith said.

Izzie smiled and nodded. “Yeah. That’s when we promised each other that we were going to do it right…and not…y’know, do it.” 

Meredith’s jaw dropped a bit at that. “You mean, you and George…you guys didn’t…give in…for the last…”

“Twenty-six months,” Izzie and George said in perfect unison.

“Seriously?” Meredith’s eyes narrowed at the pair. “You guys have been back together for over two years, and you’re closer than ever, and you’re always kissing and hugging and holding hands – “

“Careful, Meredith,” Cristina said, her voice queasy.

Meredith ignored her. “You and George have been just so lovey-dovey around here – “

“Around everywhere,” Cristina groaned.

“ - and all that, it’s hard to believe that you two haven’t been – “   

“I know. But we had an agreement,” George said.

“What?” Meredith asked.

“No sex - simple as that,” Izzie said, amazement in her voice. “And I know he had a tough time with it, ‘cause I sure did. I mean, there was more than one time, especially as the wedding got closer, that we were ready to just – “

“I will give you a hundred dollars not to finish that thought,” Cristina choked.

“But once we said ‘I do’….”  Izzie leaned in closer to the other women, both of whom were alternately not wanting to listen, but desperate to hear, and dropped her voice to a near-whisper. “I mean, this morning, I was drinking my coffee at the breakfast table and picking at a cinnamon roll, waiting for him to get ready for work.” 

“I overslept,” George said. “We’d been…busy…last night.”

“Stop talking,” Cristina hissed.

Izzie continued. “And all during the wait, I’m telling myself not to let anything happen, ‘cause we had to get to work, and we were already late, and we didn’t have time to waste.” Her eyelids fluttered and closed. “Then he came into the kitchen, soaking wet.” She bit a reddening lip.

Meredith looked over at George, who was obviously trying to avoid hearing her, but couldn’t help get caught up in her spiel. “Yeah, huh?” she said.

“He had just gotten out of the shower, and he came to get a cup of coffee to drink while he got dressed.” Izzie swallowed hard. “But instead of being, like, almost ready to go, or even in a bathrobe, he’d only managed to wrap one of those big, fluffy towels around his waist, and he kept tying it and untying it, and…” She caught George’s eyes and couldn’t help smiling at him. “And his hair was all wet and his skin was just…and his eyes…and he smelled so clean and good and I just couldn’t help myself…oh, it was so – mmm…” Both Meredith and Cristina watched Izzie's posture melt a bit, and said separate silent hosannas that their newly-wed friend had at least maintained a modicum of discretion.

Then she turned back to the women and said, her voice soft and lazy and delighted, "He has the best penis ever."

Izzie!” George coughed.

For her part, Izzie was unapologetic. “Well, you do.”

 Cristina could no longer contain herself. “This is a stage three I’m-gonna-barf alert,” she cried. “Just want to keep you aware of what’s happening, just in case some splashes on your shoes.”

“Then move,” Izzie fairly shouted.  “Because I have something I need to talk about, and it involves my husband, and how we’re having so much sex I’m afraid that I’m going to break something of mine.  Or his.”

Cristina leapt straight up from her seat at the sound of her beeper. “Thank you, pager,” she cried. “Pit call!  I love Pit calls!” She began to rush away.

“Yes, hurry – maybe somebody’s bleeding to death!” Izzie called after her.

Cristina stopped at the door. “Don’t mock me, Mrs. O’Malley.”

George blanched at her tone, but didn’t say a word.

“You can’t say that like it hurts me!” Izzie shot back as Cristina disappeared.

Meredith ducked her head into Izzie’s sightline. “Okay,” she said. “Continue.”

Izzie nodded. “The worst part is that now - at work or at home or in the car - all I wanna do – ”

“ – is George,” Meredith said.

“And today, we got caught.” Izzie frowned. “In the hospital, on a shift.”

“What should we do?” asked George. “If we don’t lose our jobs, of course.”  

It took less than a heartbeat for an answer. “Talk to each other,” Meredith said.

“We do,” George protested.  “This isn’t the first time we’ve talked about this.” He looked at his hands. “Except for the whole chore thing, which I’m really sorry about.”

“I know you are,” Izzie said. “And George is right – the last few weeks we’ve talked about our quote-unquote problem almost constantly.”

“And what happened?”

Izzie’s shoulders slumped. “We get turned on. End up doing it on the couch.” 

“Or the kitchen table,” George said. 

“Or against the wall,” Izzie said.

“Okay, guys, I think I get it,” Meredith said.

The trio sat quietly, and as they did, George and Izzie each reached for the other’s hand. Meredith observed the tender, gentle affection as her friends delicately laced their fingers together, then held fast. She frowned at herself for a moment, then said to Izzie, “He’s not just your husband, right? Or even your best friend.” She turned her attention to the man at her arm’s length. “He’s George. And he’s finally completely yours.”

“And you,” Meredith said to George. “You loved her for so long, up close and at a distance. And I know it seemed like you’d never have her in your life. But when you found her again, and when she found you, all those doubts, all your fear, all that garbage just sort of went away.”

“You two, you’re lucky,” Meredith pronounced.  “And I think – I think you’re just happy.”

Izzie sighed. “And horny.”

Meredith smiled a little at that. “Okay, yeah, that too. But mostly happy.” Meredith squeezed Izzie’s hand, and watched tears shimmer in both of her friends’ eyes. “And you two deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Izzie replied, with a sniffle. George took a step to her, offering a clean napkin and a warm embrace. As he held her tight in his arms, Izzie giggled, “But I’d like to get some housework done.”

“So you set some ground rules,” Meredith replied. “Maybe rule number one is ‘no sex until the house is clean.’”

George shook his head. ”No. Rule number one will forever be ‘no sex in the hospital, period.’”

“That’s a good call, I think,” Meredith said with a smile, noticing a nameless intern behind them nearly snapping his spine trying to avoid being seen by the happy couple. Doctor Scarpello, I presume, she thought.    

Six twenty-six in the evening.

George sees Izzie in the kitchen, leaning against the table.  They’ve been home for about an hour, and he immediately jumped into cleaning up the living room without having to be asked.  But he wanted to see what she was up to.  He finds his wife munching on a Golden Delicious apple and leafing through the life and style section of the past week’s Sunday paper.  The light from the setting sun is coming through the window, and hitting her just right, making her hair and skin glow.

It doesn’t take his mind long to get that blue-striped peasant blouse off her.  To make her jeans fade away.  His mind’s eye is a master at unfastening her bra and slipping it down her shoulders.  And her panties.  Today he sees her in a pink bikini, the one with the little satin bow that rests teasingly below her navel.  That pretty little bow.  It makes him think there’s a present just beneath it…something just for him…

She cuts into his sightline.  “George,” she says simply.

“What?” he says, snapping to attention.  Her clothes materialize instantly.  “I wasn’t – what?”

“Yes, you were,” she replies.  Then she offers a small smile, one that George finds devastatingly sexy.  “It’s okay.  That’s not against the rules.”

He nods, then turns and walks away.  A moment later, she hears the electric whine of the vacuum in the living room, and she thinks with a smile that he’s accomplished enough of rule number two for tonight.


The End

31 August 2008 @ 04:28 pm
I'm always surprised that people like my work.


I'm my own harshest critic, you see; I pick apart and fuss with and scold myself over the littlest things. 

But I can't doubt my Kind Readers when they tell me that they have enjoyed my work, and I certainly can't ignore their call when they are in need of my help.

truelovepooh </lj>
(a/k/a Stacie Holeman) is one of those people.

I was honored to be asked by her friend Joia (you might know her as gioiamia) to participate in the Authors Auction event, which is designed to raise some needed funds for Stacie, who has been fighting cancer for much too long now. There are more details about Stacie's fight over at SupportStacie.org, and how you can help her.

I've already pledged a fic - which'll be George-centric, naturally - but if you want George and Izzie, you've got to be the winning bidder.  Of course, if you want to see George and Lexie, or George and Meredith, or George and some lucky OC lady, same rules apply. All of the money raised will be given directly to helping Stacie defeat cancer. (And, to sweeten the pot for my friends of the G/I lovin' here, if I do end up writing a G/I fic, I'll also send you a second (also all-new) story, just as a way to say thanks! You can't beat that deal!)

So check it out, won't you?

And thank you.</lj>