Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.
--
Lexie fucks Jackson.
One ordinary Thursday, during lunch, in on-call room three, she's the first to initiate a Mercy Wester to the sport of on-the-job screwing.
Of course, almost everyone finds out within a matter of thirty-six minutes.
Richard, still not used to being in the flow of hospital gossip, tries not to be scandalized. Derek sighs and shakes his head, pretending he never heard the whispers; April trips over herself at his heels, eyes wide like she's trying not to imagine it but oh god can't help it. Mark's not angry (he swears he's not angry, as he shoves Teddy against an on-call room wall of his own). Bailey resists the urge to read them the riot act, muttering something about "damn hormones and panty rages." Cristina and Alex think it's the funniest thing ever when they see her come stumbling out of that room, looking frantically from side to side.
Meredith, though, is completely out of the loop with Doctor Nelson. She doesn't hear about it until she gets home that night. This makes sense, really, because who's going to walk up to her and say hey, your sister was just horizontal (or vertical…or perpendicular) with Avery in the on-call room?
As Alex recounts it over a slice of cold pizza, suppressing a grin, she can't help but become absolutely livid. Because this is getting kind of ridiculous.
Sighing huffily and seething, she stomps up the stairs to Lexie's attic bedroom. The door's open; Lexie's cross-legged on the bed working on her laptop, brow furrowed in concentration at whatever's on the monitor. Meredith purses her lips and puts a hand on her hip, leaning against the doorframe, hoping to be noticed.
And when she's not, she snatches a balled-up pair of socks from the floor and chucks it at Lexie. It bounces lightly off of her shoulder, but gets the job done as Lexie looks at her in confusion. Meredith glowers.
"I'm buying you a vibrator."
The laptop nearly dives off the bed in a sort of abandon ship attempt. Lexie catches it just in time, eyes wide. Meredith glares unwaveringly, crossing her arms over her chest and taking another step into the room. Lexie stares at her, mouth agape, blushing like crazy. She searches desperately for something to say, but everything's a dumbfounded stammer.
Finally, she sputters, "what?"
"You heard me," Meredith says forcefully. "Seriously. I'm buying you a vibrator. You obviously need one. And if you already have one, then it's obviously not good enough. So I'm buying you one."
And Lexie's still not getting it. "But…I don't…" This is not happening. Her face is on fire. "This is so many kinds of violating," she whispers, turning her face from Meredith's in an automatic reaction, sending blonde hair tumbling from off her shoulder.
Meredith sighs and sits at the foot of her bed. This makes her no less intimidating, Lexie decides. "Look, Lex." Meredith's watching her sharply. Lexie bites her lip, shrinking away from her half-involuntarily. "I get what you're doing. But I'm telling you, you don't need to be with anyone right now. In fact, you shouldn't be with anyone. Especially if you're just in it for the sex, because trust me, it just makes everything ten times harder."
Lexie's eyebrows arch with guilt; she avoids eye contact, glancing to the side.
Meredith continues. "Now, I know your heart lives in your vagina." Lexie's about to protest this, but drops it as soon as she inhales. They can't keep debating this. "But you can trick your heart. There you have it. I'm buying you a vibrator. End of discussion."
Lexie whimpers but it's lost in the finality of Meredith's sentence. She stands and heads for the door, but turns, like she just thought of something.
"I can even go out and get you one tonight, if you want." Anything to make her stop, Meredith decides.
Lexie balks. Her plummeting comprehension abilities reach zero. "Are we really having this conversation?" she squeaks, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the bed and stay there for at least thirty years.
Meredith shrugs and leaves the room, closing the door behind her without another word.
Lexie gulps.
She's just angry, she tells herself. Meredith will forget about this.
(it would be nice to have that luxury, because this'll be in her brain forever)
--
Lexie manages not to fuck Jackson the next day.
She gets home very late, having been let go from call since they had overstaffed, and everyone else is already asleep. It's a rare occurrence, something to be both celebrated and cherished. An early bedtime doesn't sound so bad, she thinks dreamily.
Until she flicks on the light in her bedroom. Her face falls, transforming into an expression of embarrassed incredulity.
Sitting on her bed is a package wrapped in shiny purple paper. A small white card is attached to the top. She cannot be serious, Lexie thinks.
She fumbles with the envelope, hands working too fast for her to control them. Eventually she gives up and just rips it apart, yanking the card from the inside. It's simple, with the phrase "A Gift for You" stamped to the front in gold foil.
Reluctantly, she opens it. It's blank, except for the long cursive she knows belongs to Meredith. A very simple message.
You probably thought I was kidding.
No name. Of course not.
Lexie gently places the card on the bed before entering into a brief staring contest with the package. It wins. Lexie bites her lip and tears the paper from it, working her fingers under the taped edges and tugging.
She slaps her forehead with the heel of her palm as she examines the gift.
There's a very distinctive-looking thing on the front, huge and almost frightening; words like "massager" (yeah right), "6000 rpm," "attachments included!", and, of course, the brand name Hitachi are splashed across it in variegated colors. Lexie's hand slides the rest of the way down her face.
Maybe if she runs away, moves to South Dakota, this will stop being so humiliating.
She gingerly picks up the box (why is it so heavy?!) and quickly shoves it under her bed. Maybe it'll disappear.
Trying to push it from her mind (and erase the sudden, inexplicable tingling from between her legs), she gets ready for bed and crawls under the covers.
An hour later, she's still awake.
Groaning in frustration, she flips onto her other side, coming completely off of her bed before falling to it again with a thud. It's no more comfortable than the other side, no more comfortable than the other nineteen times she's gone through this process. So much tossing and turning, suddenly restless.
It's that stupid box. She can feel it through the mattress. It keeps pushing its way into her head.
She lies prone, buries her face in her pillow, and moans pathetically. All she wants is to go to sleep.
But that thing under her bed simply isn't going to let her.
She can't let it go. The pit of her stomach aches as her mind runs laps around it.
She's really going to have to do this, isn't she?
Her answer comes in the form of a surge of heat at the apex of her thighs.
With a heaving, begrudging sigh, she maneuvers her upper body over the side of the bed to drag the box from its hiding place.
She tries to keep her fingers from opening the box as eagerly as they'd like to.
--
Maybe it's intuition, or maybe it's just awesome perception – Meredith stares at the ceiling of her bedroom, and she swears she can hear muffled moans and strangled gasps with an underscore of humming coming from above her. Victory, she thinks in satisfaction.
Closing her eyes, Meredith pictures Alex in the room next door, also staring at his ceiling, wide-eyed as his imagination runs absolutely wild.
It makes her smile and she drifts off to sleep.
--
She's alone in the kitchen the next morning, hands curled around a cup of coffee, when Lexie trudges down the stairs. Her hair is pulled back and she's stretching. Her face is straight but her eyes are bright. Meredith's lips curve into a smirk over the brim of her mug.
"Good morning," Lexie says, grabbing the handle of the refrigerator.
"Apparently it is," Meredith murmurs. Lexie doesn't hear her. "So, how was it?"
Lexie pulls the carton of orange juice from the shelf without turning to look at Meredith. Her voice is carefully measured and regulated. "How was what? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Whatever you say," Meredith replies with a shrug, rolling her eyes. She takes another sip of coffee. "But know that I'm happy for you, okay?"
Lexie whips around, eyes narrowed, ready to defend herself with another lie.
But that falls to crap when their gazes lock.
They're stuck there for a few seconds, totally frozen. Meredith has her lips around the rim of her mug and Lexie's pointing the carton of orange juice at her in a way that's probably supposed to be menacing.
But Lexie can't hold back the sheepish smile or the pink tinge in her cheeks. She can't hide it, not from Meredith. The corners of her mouth shoot up, no matter how hard she bites her lip.
And Meredith snorts, spewing a mouthful of coffee back into the cup. Lexie stands there grinning lopsidedly as Meredith continues to laugh.
Because as awkward as this situation is, Lexie supposes, it's nice that they can be in it at all.