Disclaimer: I...er, disclaim it all. Not mine.
A/N: This is my first Grey's Anatomy story, so bear with me!
"No, I hate that flavor."
"Watermelon. You hate watermelon? Who hates watermelon?"
"Grumpy people."
"Ah. Eat it anyway, you silly dwarf."
"Dwarf? You're not one to talk, Leprechaun."
"Not fair"
Meredith looked over at George sullenly, who was seated at the end of her bed, trying to persuade her to accept a piece of watermelon gum, saying the sugar would make her wake up and get out. She was in plenty of moods—her brain kept switching between them—but none of them were pleasant. Her current one was the Let-Me-Die-In-Bed mood, and Izzie had been ready to strangle Meredith, as if the stubborn grouchiness would ooze out of her ears. George had come to the rescue.
"I've got original."
"Hand it over."
Meredith smiled over at him; he was just too cute. Not steamy sexy (come on, it's George), but definitely adorable. And his persuasive skills included candy, much better than Izzie's impatience.
When Meredith's stumbling, still-sleepy hand grasped George's while taking the gum, it sent electric shocks through him and sort of made his cock twitch too, and his heart rate went up a notch. However, Meredith had skipped over to the Think-Out-Loud mood, and said, "Your hands are cold."
"My sincerest apologies for being cold-blooded."
"I know. We should get a maintenance guy to fix our boiler. It must be a million below zero now..." Meredith began, her mind set on whining.
There was a pause, then George reached out and took Meredith's hand, pulled her out of the bed, then half-dragged her down to the shower.
"You can take it from here."
She glared at him. "No I can't. Get Izzie."
"Moping, grouchy, greedy, sarcastic, complaining, demanding...why are you still our roommate?" George demanded as he turned on the shower.
"Because you guys love me." Meredith mumbled, sitting on the toilet stool, staring forlornly at George.
A little too close to home, Mer, George thought.
Izzie walked into the room, bearing eggs and toast.
"Ah, there you are." She looked at Meredith, clad in a PJ top and undies, her normal sleep outfit, and George, only wearing sweatpants.
"Well well well, am I intruding?" Izzie laughed. "I brought you guys some breakfast. You guys are way behind—I'm ready to go. I want to get there early, so I have some, ah, free time."
"To feed the beast that is horniness, you mean. With Alex," Meredith said in an accusatory tone.
"And I've come up here to feed the beast that is you. With George." Izzie smiled, and handed George the plate. He nodded his thanks, and she stepped out of the room.
"Scooch over. I'm really hungry," George said, shoving Meredith off of the toilet seat.
She pouted, then shrugged and sat in his lap, picking up the toast and gorging herself on it. As for George, he could barely contain himself. He forced himself to act normal, and to eat. She was in his lap. In his LAP! He wanted to kiss her, so bad, oh god...he took mental deep breaths.
Keep calm. The food was gone surprisingly fast, and then Meredith was waving George away; she was getting into the shower. He smiled smugly—he was getting good at getting Meredith out of bed. This was the sixth time she had woken up and wanted to be a magnet, forever connected to her bed. Only twice had they needed to call in the expert, Christina.
"So you all know what you're doing. Let's go!" An unfamiliar voice wafted through the locker room doors as Meredith and George approached them, ten minutes late.
Meredith pulled open the door, and any pre-round grumbling and chatter instantly halted. All of the interns, in addition to a strange woman, were staring at the pair as if they were the patients with two heads. The new woman was glaring dangerously at them, her curly red hair falling around her face as she sent the late people withering looks. She had a slightly misshapen face, with a crooked witch's nose. Her eyes were far apart. In a different section of the building, George might have thought she had a mild case of Down Syndrome. But here, right now, George was sure that the only thing wrong with her was that she was insanely mad at Meredith and him.
"I'm your new resident, Dr. Gairden. You are ten minutes late...this is disgusting. I won't accept this next time." She was definitely going to be difficult to win over, if it was at all possible. And neither Meredith nor George knew what she meant when she said that she wouldn't accept tardiness next time, but it was not something they were keen on finding out. Dr. Gairden continued, "These people, who got here on time, are going to be working with the best cases I can find for them. You two will help the nurses and work on the less flattering cases, until you prove to me that you deserve to be here. Ta."
As Meredith glared at the woman's retreating back, she thought to herself, that just add a thick German accent and a rifle, and this woman is a Nazi. George just felt slightly guilty.
The second that the door shut being Dr. Gairden, Alex, Izzie, and Christina broke out in hysterical laughter.
"Oh shut up! It was your stupid eggs. Slowed us down." George said indignantly.
Izzie wiped tears from her eyes and said innocently, "I thought you'd like them."
As Meredith backed out of the room to go change into her scrubs, she looked at George and wearily said, "When she says 'less flattering', you know she means poop."
Meredith, Izzie, and George met up later at Joe's bar.
"Have any feces encounters?" Izzie asked, amused. From thefew empty beer bottles next to her, and from the slightly slurred, low tone she was using, it was obvious she was on quite a buzz.
"YES. I got fifteen different people that came in complaining of severe diarrhea!" George accounted, critically annoyed. He ordered a beer, and took an enormous swig of it once it was in his hand.
"You Irish...big drinkers..." Izzie said jokingly. George sighed tiredly at her.
" Hey, I counted twenty-one come in. I guess someone else was late...anyway, I got stuck with paperwork. I spent hours just sorting through it! You'd have thought I was a fricken' nurse!" Meredith complained.
"Hey Joe, another round of beers over here. These guys are gonna need it when I tell them MY day..." Izzie started.
"...Okay, well, that new resident? A total bitch. But BOY, does she know what she's doing! I don't know where she found them and how she got them for us, but we found the greatest cases. I even got to help Dr. Gairden when she was doing this brain surgery, too!" Izzie went on to describe a fantastical day.
From out of nowhere, Christina popped in from behind George, and said, "Yeah, and then I got this girl with Bruxism. She was grinding her teeth so much that they were only like three millimeters long. It was disgusting," she said with a grin. "I had—got— to put this weird thing on her, and she was hysterical. Really. I mean, insane screaming and writhing. I was almost wondering when the people in white uniforms would come in with the straight jacket. And then afterwards, even Dr. Gairden said I did a good job!"
George and Meredith glowered at her, and quickly downing two bottles each.
"Oh, hey Alex! Where'd you come from? Never mind, how was your day?" Izzie said cheerfully.
"Oh, great! See, there was this patient..."
(A/N: All the typos are on purpose)
"You drive."
"No, oo."
"No! You."
"I'm too dwunk."
"Noooo, I ham."
"Cawll a taxi."
"They don't understay-unnd 'Drunk Girl'. You spek English; go!"
"Joe, ring us up a taxi, pleeeaseeeee."
The rest of the gang had left ages ago, and though the two interns had known from the beginning that they were going to have horrible hangovers in the morning, which would make giving a good second impression near impossible, they had decided that it was a fair trade for wiping away their bad feelings of the moment.
Ten minutes later, Joe was heaving George and Meredith into the taxi. Looking at the two, he decided that they were either going to be incomprehensible or tell the taxi driver to take them to Vegas, so he just told the driver where to drop them off himself.
Meredith and George couldn't be bothered to put on seatbelts, but they huddled together against the cold weather.
"M-m-must be a mill-yun below zewo..." George muttered.
"Mill-ee-un and two, I guess..." Meredith replied, snuggling closer to George's warm neck. He inhaled quickly—wow, lavender. I like it...—but his mind was just too fuzzy to really think about it. He just pulled her into a tight hug, and started laughing.
They half-wrestled all the way home, and once they got home, squinted at their money and tried to give the taxi driver a gift card to Blockbusters. Once their fee was paid correctly, they stumbled around the lawn, finally making it up to the door. Meredith got the key in the lock on the umpteenth try, and they continued their unorthodox journey up the stairs, to their rooms.
On the second step, they realized that this simply would not work. The stairs were a plain vertical wall, honest-to-god, and there was no way they could climb them. They meandered over to the living room.
"Gee-orj. It's not cold in here anymowa. The maintenance guy musta come," Meredith said, the words coming thickly out of her drunken mouth.
"Mhmm. Let's sleep in h-h-heeeeere," George responded through a yawn.
He stripped down to his boxers and shirt, and set about finding a blanket for each of them. Meredith took off her jacket, and then even her pants, but paused at her shirt.
"Gee-orj? I can't sleep in thisss! Can I borrow your shirt!" Meredith cried.
"Y-yeah..." he said, quickly taking it off and handing it to her. He turned rapidly around, not looking at her change. Even in this state, he was highly embarrassed for her to be so undressed. He didn't even consider his own immodesty.
They went to their respective couches, and both slipped into and incredibly deep sleep.
At around three in the morning, someone calling his name and shaking his shoulders yanked George out of his log-like state. Not really coming to his senses, he assumed there was a fire and started scrambling to get up.
"No! No, George, stop it!" Meredith's voice came through to his brain, and he realized he had a pounding headache. A really pounding headache. The kind you figure you'll get if someone is drilling into your brain.
"Ohhh. Hi Meredith. Um, what is it? Oww..." George groused.
"My head is KILLING me...you know what I mean?" Meredith sniveled.
George nodded, and then regretted it with a passion. It was like shaking up a bottle of nails.
"Good, then we're on the same page. I'm cold again. Mind if I—damn" Meredith paused to take a deep breath, groan, and put a pained hand on her forehead. Keeping it there, rubbing at her temples, she continued, "Mind if I sleep there with you? Having headaches makes me feel lonely."
"Sure." George took Meredith's hand off of her forehead and pulled her down next to him on the couch. On reflex, she spooned up next to him.
"I promise I won't drool. And if I do, you're free to go to hell," Meredith mumbled into the back of George's neck.
"And sue you...you know lawyers go to hell...silly move on your part..." George started blabbering. He felt the urge to laugh nervously. His senses were magnified, and he was acutely aware of Meredith's hot breath on his bare back. Her small snores and rhythmic breathing lulled him to sleep, though the last thought he harbored before falling asleep was what they would look like to Izzie when she came downstairs later this morning.
"What the hell?" Izzie pissed-off, high-pitched voice came down at the two of them two and a half hours later. A smug Alex looked over at them from his spot next to the stairs.
"What? Nothing happened," George grumbled as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. He elbowed Meredith behind him to wake her up; she seemed as if she had cotton stuck in her ears.
"Nothing happened? We left you guys at the bar, and when we come downstairs, worried as shit 'cause you weren't in your beds, we find you—together—on the couch, totally passed out and obviously sporting one hell of a hangover! Not to mention that George is just in his boxers, and Meredith conveniently is only wearing her underwear and George's shirt! Nothing happened? Ew, you guys!" Meredith's ears were unclogged now, but she clapped her hands over them, trying to block out Izzie's infuriatingly loud voice, which was rendering her brain paralyzed with pain.
Izzie put her palm on her head, shook her head, and then said, "You guys are so screwed..."
George hooked an arm around Meredith's waist and hoisted him and her up off the couch. "Look, we're off...we're—oh damn, my heaaaaad..." George howled, sitting back on the couch, Meredith falling down next to him. George put his head heavily in his hands, and groaned painfully. Meredith couldn't do much more than whimper.
"Hey," came Alex's voice from the other side of the room, "are those airplanes on your boxers, O' Malley?"
George desperately wanted to punch him, or do something, but the only task his body was capable of completing was being in agony and being tired, so he just leaned back against the couch, eyes closed.
"This sucks," Meredith whispered.
"Well you guys are totally coming to work. Once this wears off, you have got to get back. You can just sleep in the locker room or something. It'll give you time to think of a good excuse for getting totally wasted and being late...again."
"Can't...get up...can't...go to...work..." George carped.
But they did, and they slept through the first two hours of their shift. Although, shifts are for people who work in restaurants. Prolonged periods of work-time is what medical personnel use to describe the hours in which they are at work.
As restitution, they spent an extra three hours at the hospital, missing out on an especially fun night at the bar—or so they were told by their friends; not that they were planning on consuming any alcohol in the near future. They passed the time in which they worked on patients together consoling each other's heads, and when they finally got a break, they rushed off and plopped down on the couch in the Employee's Lounge. The TV was on, and "The Simpsons" was on; coincidentally, it was the episode where Homer decides: "To alcohol! The cause of—and solution to—all of life's problems!"
When they noticed this, George and Meredith gave each other knowing looks and chuckled.
That night, Izzie came home and went into her room. On a second thought, she changed into pajamas, and crawled into George's bed.
"Huh? What are you doing here, Izzie?" George inquired, shocked.
"Making sure."
"Of what?" George asked, somewhat knowing the answer.
"You know, Meredith sure looked pretty today..."
"She threw up three times. Pretty?"
"Goodnight George!"
A/N: Okay, so review and tell me what you think...
George: Yeah, we'd appreciate it.
Alex: We? Maybe I don't want her to make this stupid story and say that I'm a snob.
Purdy: Hey!
Meredith: But you are a snob.
Alex: Oh lovely author! Make her say sorry.
Purdy: Pah. I never SAID you were a snob. It was just implied...and nasty muses who say that this story is stupid don't get chocolate chip cookies tonight.
George: ((links arms with Purdy)) ooo, when do we get them?
Meredith: ((glares at Purdy and George)) Excuse me, but...((ravishes George))
Purdy: Quit that! That comes later, dumbutts!
Izzie: Alex? Stop crying in the bathroom, I want to fu—
Leprauchan: ((cuts in)) excuse me, but you should review now.