The Bed
It was different when they were in George's bed, a place they had both found themselves in at various times in various stages of drunkenness or sobriety, giddiness or desperation. No, Meredith's bed was different, it was practically a different category of place. Of course Cristina stayed over all the time, probably taking up all the bed and shoving Meredith to the edge. Izzie couldn't even count the times she had met the brunette in the kitchen before dawn, where Cristina would finish the last of the coffee with a smirk and then leave for the hospital without waiting for Meredith or anyone else. Izzie always waited, not quite patient, certainly not happy about the delay, but she waited anyway.
Holding on to her pink Thermos cup, Izzie knew that where she was just the roommate, Cristina was the friend. Friends slept in friends beds, but Izzie never knew where she stood with Meredith. Even now, leaning against the counter in Meredith Grey's kitchen, drinking tea she had found in Meredith Grey's cupboard and waiting for Meredith Grey herself to race down the stairs to finally get to the hospital and Cristina and surgeries and elevators and McDreamy, Izzie had no idea where she fit in. Three months into living together, and she was still clueless. Things hadn't been this complicated during med school.
"Hey Iz, what are you doing?"
Meredith's voice startled her, as effective as the sound of her pager during nighttime. She was already in her jacket, bag in hand and reaching for the coffee Izzie had put on. Thinking of med school and the girls she made friends with there and the fun evenings they'd spent gossiping and hanging out, Izzie rambled ahead, diving into the deep end with an overly bright smile on her face: "I was wondering whether you wanted to have a girls' night tonight. We could, I don't know, watch a movie in bed, or something." The second she had finished speaking, Izzie knew that it was a stupid idea. Meredith wasn't one for girly things - she'd probably have a coronary if Izzie ever suggested braiding each other's hair or doing each other's nails.
Arching an eyebrow, Meredith filled the coffee into her silver mug, not spilling a drop. "There's no TV in my bedroom."
Feeling the rejection creep over her skin, Izzie shrugged. It was a pathetic attempt at nonchalance, but luckily, Meredith wasn't looking at her anyway. Not that she ever was.
"Oh. Oh, okay. I didn't know that, sorry. Shall we get going?" The familiar sound of George thundering down the stairs had both girls looking through the door leading to the hallway. "We're late, we need to go!" George's voice sounded appropriately panicky for 4.43 in the morning: he'd be on Burke's service all week and Preston Burke didn't appreciate tardiness.
Meredith sighed, and Izzie was suddenly quite sure that she was the one being sighed at. "We can watch a movie in the living room if you want. But Iz, if you want to watch something where a girl wears a long white dress, it better be frigging Carrie." And with that, Meredith made a beeline for the hall, already telling George to stay calm; they'd make it in on time because the motorway would be completely empty anyway. Hurrying after Meredith, Izzie' broke into a wide smile.
Bedrooms were overrated anyway.
The End