I know I haven't written anything in a while. I'm sorry. School's been one big nightmare, and my dad just died, so everything's pretty much been pushed to the backburner. I did, however, sign up for the Doc Santa exchange on LJ, so this is for that. I hope you guys like it.
Basically, Season 1 didn't have a Christmas, but if it did (if Addison had taken a year to come to Seattle, no Denny, etc.), this is what it would have been like. So, for anyone who wants a cute and fluffyish (and, as always, more than a little humorous) Christmas story, here you go.
Reminders...Tyler's a nurse (you see him around a lot) and...that should be it.
"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas…just like the ones I…"
"WOULD SOMEONE SHUT THAT THING THE HELL UP?" yelled George. He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head. "Whatever happened to sleep?"
"It died, along with your common sense," remarked Cristina, standing in his doorway.
George lifted his head from his pillow, opened one eye, and saw her. "Now I know I'm having a nightmare."
"It's YOUR alarm clock, Bambi. Why don't you do us a favor and turn it off? Meredith's sick, and you're not helping her feel any better."
"I'm not sick!" yelled Meredith from her room, sounding even more raspy and tired than usual.
"Yes, you are!" yelled Izzie from Meredith's kitchen. "Will you stop shouting? You're going to make it worse."
"Meredith has the flu," said Cristina, as George attempted to roll over and turn off the alarm, and instead ended up falling out of bed onto the floor.
"I know. Izzie's taking care of her," said George, rubbing his head and (finally) turning off the radio.
"I'm not sick!"
"Yes, you are!" yelled Izzie, Cristina, and George. Cristina turned back to George, rolling her eyes impatiently as he tried to get himself off the floor and back into bed.
"Now, as I was saying, yes, Izzie is taking care of her. Do you know how exactly Izzie is taking care of her? She's down in the kitchen right now playing freaking Mrs. Claus. I highly doubt cookies are going to help Meredith get any better. And to think that she's a doctor…"
"Izzie's not making cookies. She's making her grandmother's recipes for…herbal cures or something. She told me about it one time…swore it worked."
"Well, that's crap," Cristina told him bluntly. "We're doctors. We cure things medically…that's why we went to medical school. Long story short, you need to get out of bed and control what's going on downstairs. I have to deal with one delusional person, and I'm not about to try and deal with another one."
"Can you blame her? It's the holidays…" said George, rubbing his eyes as he sat on the side of his bed, attempting to gain full consciousness.
"Exactly. It's the holidays. I'm not only allowed to blame her, I'm obligated."
"You don't even live here."
"Well, until Meredith gets better, I'm going to have to. Based on what happened to you, Izzie, and your patients yesterday? I'm scared of leaving her alone in a house with you two, and that's not even adding in the sick factor yet."
"I got that patient fair and square."
"You totally guessed the answer to Dr. Bailey's question. You didn't really know it. You made a wild stab in the dark and somehow ended up with the right answer. If I were a patient, I'd be scared as hell to be your assignment. Now, get out of bed!" Cristina whirled around as a flash of blonde disappeared past George's door. "Damn it."
Cristina followed Izzie (with George right behind the two women) straight into Meredith Grey's room. The brunette lay in bed, clad in her Dartmouth t-shirt and whatever sweatpants she'd decided to throw on when she'd gotten home – somewhere around ten o'clock the night before. Her face was clearly flushed, and she turned over restlessly in her bed when the three came in. "I'm not sick. I'm going to work today."
"You're not going anywhere," said Izzie, plunking a tray down on Meredith's nightstand. "Now, this is lemonade with cinnamon and honey. That should help your throat. I also brought some water because you've got to be dehydrated. I found some Advil in your cabinet downstairs, but I'm going to have to take your temperature to see if you need Motrin."
"I don't have any…" said Meredith, half to Izzie, half to herself.
"I know you don't have any Motrin. That's why George is going to run to the store and get it," Izzie told her. She poked her side. "You should probably take a shower too…get rid of whatever's infecting you."
"Oh, for crying out loud," said Cristina, grabbing the thermometer from Izzie's tray. "Meredith, open your mouth." When Meredith didn't respond, Cristina pushed the thermometer in there anyway. "You better have that under your tongue, got it?" Meredith made a half-serious attempt to swipe Cristina, which she easily dodged. A minute later, Cristina withdrew the thermometer, handing it to the other two. "Okay, Doctors, what's it say?"
"One hundred one point nine," said George. "That's just south of one hundred two."
"She definitely has the flu," said Izzie. "I'll call in sick for you, Meredith."
Meredith looked up at Cristina tiredly. "I'm dizzy, and I can't decide whether I'm hot or if I'm cold. My head feels like someone's smacking it with a small jackhammer, and you three are arguing in my room. Get out." She extended a hand toward Izzie. "If you think you're getting away with calling me in sick to work, you're sadly mistaken."
Izzie handed her the phone. "George, I made up a list of things we need. You're going to have to hurry to get them here before your shift starts."
"Why is it always me who does the shopping?" asked George. "I haven't even had coffee yet!"
"In ancient times, it was the men who did the hunting and gathering," said Izzie. "And because that was predominantly done by men, women slowly lost their status in the community and have been fighting back for about twenty thousand years to get their rights back. You want to be a man, George? Go hunt and gather." Izzie handed him the list. "There's coffee on the stove."
"I hate you people."
"Join the club," muttered Meredith as she rolled over.
Alex looked at the three interns entering the locker room and cocked his head. "What, is Yang living with you guys too? As if it wasn't cutesy enough that you lived together with Meredith…where is she, anyway?"
"Sick," said Cristina, pushing past him to get to her locker. "And no, I do not live with Meredith and her charity cases."
"Seriously?" laughed Alex. "She's actually sick. As in…"
"As in she has the flu," George told him. "If she wasn't sick, do you honestly think she'd fake it? Give me a break."
Alex shrugged. "That's one less person to compete with." He looked at the other three, then took off at a run out of the locker room.
Cristina, who was pulling her scrub shirt over her head, caught sight of him and immediately started running after him. "If he thinks he's going to get one of my cases…" That left Izzie and George, who took their time getting changed, compared to the other two.
"Do you think I should put up Christmas decorations?" asked Izzie.
"You can't. I'm allergic to pine needles," George told her.
"You're lying."
"Yup."
"Dr. Stevens, have you seen Dr. Grey?" asked Derek. He'd been looking for Meredith all morning and had just happened to run into her blonde roommate.
"She's sick," said Izzie flatly, concentrating on the chart she was working on. Just because Meredith was going out with him didn't mean that she had to be his best friend.
"With what?"
"The flu."
"Are you sure?"
Izzie looked at him. "I don't know. You went to medical school too. You tell me."
"That was insubordinate," said Derek, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"Well, the conversation you're having with me right now is totally unethical," said Izzie, flipping a page of the chart.
"Point taken," said Derek. He sighed. "Come on. I'll let you scrub in on my twelve o'clock surgery if you tell me more about what happened." He held up a hand. "And before you ask, no, I'm not just letting you do this because I want something for myself. You're one of the only two interns who hasn't been claimed today, and I'd rather have someone cooperative. Believe me. With this patient, you're going to need it."
"This other intern's name wouldn't bear a resemblance to the word 'spandex', would it?" asked Izzie innocently.
"You haven't earned that answer," said Derek. "Now, tell me what's going on."
"I feel bad about leaving Meredith at home by herself…sick," George told Cristina as he sat down at their lunch table.
"Don't…there was enough sleeping medicine in that thing Izzie made to put Meredith out for at least four hours."
"Dude, you drugged her?" asked Alex.
"Yes," said Christina sarcastically. "I drugged a sick person. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"How am I supposed to know?" asked Alex, popping open a soda can. "For all I know, you could be trying to eliminate the competition one by one."
"Believe me, if I were doing that, I'd start with you."
"Burn," whispered George. Alex glared at him.
"But really, George," said Christina, pointedly ignoring Alex, "what do you want me to do…drive back over there? It's a Friday two weeks away from Christmas. You want me to drive in that traffic? You've got to be kidding me."
"Oh, God, Christmas," said Alex, rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't even know it was Christmas here. It's the way it is all year – cold and wet.
"Izzie wants to decorate the house," piped up George.
"I think I speak for Meredith when I say 'over my dead body'," Christina told him.
"You know Derek was asking about her today?" George told the other two. "I saw him asking Izzie where she was."
"Watch him try and come over tonight," said Christina. "Boyfriends and sickness don't mix."
"How sick is she?" asked Alex.
"Flu."
"She didn't get a flu shot? We work at a hospital, for crying out loud."
"No, she had that fourteen hour surgery that day," remembered George. "We all got one except for her."
"At least you won't get infected," said Alex. "If I ever get sick, feel free to not take care of me."
"It'll be my pleasure," said Christina, flicking a fry at him across the table.
Christina had been right. The medicine in Izzie's "remedy" put Meredith out until noon. When she awoke, her room was freezing, and everyone was gone.
Eh, screw the fact that she was sick. She was turning up the temperature. Reaching for the closest blanket, she wrapped it around herself, counted to ten, and forced herself to get out of bed. The thermostat was set for 75. She turned it up to 79. Then, she slowly made her way back to bed, pausing only once to pick up her cell phone, which was ringing. It was the nursing home. "Hello?" she croaked, collapsing back into her bed, which was still warm.
"Hello, Dr. Grey. We were wondering if you were coming to the Christmas party we're having for our residents. We noticed you hadn't RSVPed yet."
Meredith pictured the invitation, lying far away downstairs in a cabinet, where she'd hidden it from Izzie and George. "I'm trying to get someone to switch shifts with me. I'm still waiting on one person to get back to me. Could I get back to you?"
"Of course, Dr. Grey."
"Thank you. I'll do that as soon as possible."
"Goodbye, Dr. Grey." Meredith put the phone down and exhaled, reaching for the glass of water Izzie had set beside her bed, before picking up her phone and calling a familiar number.
"Your phone's ringing," Tyler told Christina.
Christina shot a dirty look at the nurse. "I can see that," she said, picking up her phone. "Meredith?"
"Remember the shift change I asked you about?"
"Yeah."
"Would you do it?"
"You think that just because you're sick I'm going to switch with you?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Fine," said Christina. "But you know, if you told me why you needed the day, I'd be more inclined to give it to you."
"Sick," Meredith reminded her. "I'm sick."
Derek appeared out of nowhere and tapped Cristina on the shoulder. "Is that Meredith?"
"Is that Derek?" Meredith asked Cristina.
"Oh my God, this is not high school. I'm not playing the mediator," said Cristina. "Bye, Meredith." She hung up and turned to Derek. "She's fine. Stop hovering." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "You can come over after work. But if she's any worse than she was this morning, I'm not letting you near her, got it?"
Derek smiled. "Got it."
"McDreamy's coming to our house?" asked Izzie.
"It's not our house. It's Meredith's," George reminded her. "And it's not like he hasn't been here before. Why are you cleaning the kitchen?"
"I didn't have the best day in the world. Leave me alone."
"Fine," said George. "I'm going to the store."
"For what?"
"Christmas lights," said George. "I figure we can compromise. We'll be Christmas on the outside and not the inside."
"Do you have any idea how sad that just sounded?"
"Yeah," said George. He paused. "Anyway, I'll be back in an hour." Izzie sighed and turned back to the kitchen table she was scrubbing. "Hey, Izzie, Derek's at the door!"
By the time Derek got to the kitchen, Izzie was holding out a tray of cookies. "Want one?"
"Swallow," Cristina instructed Meredith. Meredith gulped down the two pills.
"Am I getting better?" she asked Cristina.
"Yeah. Hopefully it won't be worse in the morning."
"Thank you for taking care of me."
"Are you delirious?"
"Maybe," said Meredith. "That would mean I'm getting worse, wouldn't it?"
Cristina looked up to Meredith's door. "You're about to. Your boyfriend is here," she said, gesturing.
"I'll only be a minute," said Derek.
"One minute, my ass," said Cristina. "I'm waiting outside the door. Don't think I'm not watching you." She went outside and closed the door. George and Izzie snuck up the stairs and took their places beside Cristina, crouched in front of the door, listening.
"How are you feeling?" Derek asked Meredith.
"Like I have the flu," she answered, smiling in spite of herself. Derek pulled the blankets up around her. "What are you doing?"
"I had the flu once," Derek told her. "I remember that I was freezing the entire time. And besides, this is what boyfriends do. They take care of their sick girlfriends."
"Really," said Meredith, as if she didn't believe him.
"Really." A sharp knock on the door (probably Cristina's) interrupted the both of them. Derek smiled. "Looks like my time's almost up." He kissed her on the forehead. "You should get better soon. You don't want to be sick for Christmas."
"Christmas is in two weeks."
"Yes," said Derek. "And I'd love if you were well enough so we could spend it together."
"You want to spend Christmas over here?" Meredith asked. "Are you crazy?"
Derek shrugged. "Sure, why not? You, me, Cristina, George, Izzie…"
"Obviously, you're catching what I have," said Meredith.
Derek smoothed her hair. "Just get better, okay?"
"Okay."
"He's coming!" hissed Izzie. She got up and bolted down the stairs. George looked around and ran into the bathroom.
By the time Derek opened the door, there was only Cristina in the hallway, looking at him disapprovingly.
"Good night, Dr. Yang," Derek told her.
"If you think you're spending Christmas here, you're sadly mistaken."
"Well, Meredith didn't seem to have any objections. We can come to some sort of compromise."
"Right," said Cristina. She didn't believe him at all. "Good night, Dr. Shepherd."
"Izzie, George!" called Derek, as made his way down the stairs.
"Bye!" yelled Izzie.
"Bye!" yelled George. When they heard the front door slam, the three made their way into Meredith's room.
Meredith opened one eye and spotted all three of them. "You can kick my ass after I get better," she told them.
"I'm holding you to that," said Cristina.
"Me too."
"Me too."
Reviews are love. You guys have a great holiday season.