Tom Sez: I hope that whether you prefer George and Izzie as a couple, or just as best friends, you'll enjoy this story.
The Best Part of Wakin' Up
Izzie caught George on the elevator. He'd shoved something into his mouth, and quickly shoved his hands into his lab coat pockets. She sniffed the air, and caught the scents of cooked mystery meat and sugary dough. "What are you eating?" she asked.
"Nothing," he replied, mouth still full.
"Doesn't look like nothing," she replied.
"It's – it's just my breakfast, Izzie. Something to fill the tank." A hard frown froze on his lips as he swallowed. "What do you care?"
"I care," Izzie protested. "I care about what you eat. What is it?"
George's mouth made a few contortions, like he was checking for identifiable flavors. "Sausage," he muttered. "Wrapped in a pancake," he added. Then, almost as an aside, "On a stick," he concluded.
Izzie's face twisted with revulsion. "Erggh," she gurgled. "How can you eat that?"
George shook his head at her question. "It's good," he said, obviously trying to believe it himself. "And packed with…" he added, searching for more words to defend his meal choice, "…blueberry-licious. Ness."
She stifled a giggle. "That what it says on the box?"
"No," George retorted. Then he caught the gruff tone of his response, and retreated. "Yes."
"George O'Malley," Izzie scolded, catching his eye. "If you want pancakes and sausage, come over to the house. I would be thrilled to make breakfast for you."
"No," he replied hastily, breaking contact with her. "No, no, no. I don't want to…you know …interrupt or interfere or get anybody out of bed..." he said, stumbling around to catch his thoughts, but not stopping to let them collect. "I mean, thanks, but no…this is faster, okay, this is easier and they taste fine." He found a scratch on the elevator wall to eyeball. "Actually, they're pretty good, tell you the truth. I mean, they aren't your blueberry pancakes, and the sausage isn't…uh…but they're fine, you know? For a quick…"
The elevator ding pulled his eyes back to Izzie, who now looked a good three inches shorter. "Saved by the bell, huh?" she said with a sad smile.
The doors opened and she started to leave when he reached out and touched her arm. She froze in place.
George blew out a breath. "I hate this," he groaned.
"Me too," Izzie replied, turning back to face him.
"I don't see you, I don't talk to you, I – I'm just so sick of it," he said.
"Makes two of us," she replied. "So maybe you should come over for breakfast."
"Yeah," he said. "I should."
"Tomorrow?" she asked, hope trickling into her voice.
He sighed with a little smile. "Okay, yeah. Tomorrow."
Izzie beamed. "Awesome!" she cheered, and her whole being seemed to lift off the floor.
George felt his insides warm at her happiness. He'd forgotten how good that was. "Yeah, awesome," he said.
Izzie practically skipped off the elevator, and George watched her leave, a broad grin on his face. He stuck his hands back into his pockets, and his expression melted to disgust.
"Really shouldn't have been carrying another one in my coat," he grimaced, withdrawing a dough-and-sausage-slicked hand.
The End