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