Business Time Chapter 3: Business Time, George O'Malley, a grey's anatomy fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy, et al.

Author's Note: So, re-reading this just now made me miss George and as much as he bothered me sometimes on the show, he was still George and also a very human character and his flaws were so richly displayed by TRK. Sighs, thanks for indulging me here (and Sheila, for she really just wants to read the latter Mer/Der chapter) … enjoy!

Business Time – Part 3 – George O'Malley

George O'Malley stepped outside into the frigid night air, having had a beer he knew he couldn't work, not yet anyway, but now with the extra time on his hands – he decided to go to the hospital anyway – where he spent a lion's share of his free time these days. Plus … Lexie was on-call tonight, so there was that.

As he absentmindedly headed toward the hospital, he thought about his life – his station – and the Chief and Adele now, having spent their entire adult lives together … no more than a set of repelling magnets – magnets that at one time found an innate attraction – but somehow were turned around when Richard's head turned to Ellis and his mind and body followed him there … until there was no turning back.

George shrugged his shoulders in defense against the cold air and perhaps against his own shortcomings when it came to his marriage to Callie … dear, sweet Calliope. He still harbored a very small soft spot for her – he once loved her enough to marry her – he loved her, she saved him and protected him from all that was horrid in his life all those years ago and he was forever mindful of that. And he was happy for her and for Mark – they were a pair and it was surprisingly comfortable to work and socialize with them – and then he wondered, was it all some kind of cosmic joke … was it fate or destiny that made it all turn out like this?

His father's death being the precipice – setting the wheels in motion for the here and now – for everything that had happened during his intern year led him here … to this life … a lonely, workaholic emergency room surgical resident. One who, much like the Chief, found solace within the walls of Seattle Grace – where everything was predictable in its unpredictability – it grounded him and made it all but impossible to really take a risk and meet someone … or go out on a limb and try to trust himself to be in a relationship and not hurt or disappoint the other party. Yes, his father's death brought forth a foolish version of himself – a desperate version of himself – a version of himself that caught up with him every once in a while, his foolishness, the cause for so much hurt and betrayal.

His mother's disappointment in the dissolution of his marriage.

(She didn't pretend to understand him; hell … he didn't understand himself.)

His betrayals to Callie and Izzie and himself.

(And Meredith, he couldn't forget about Meredith, perhaps his worst betrayal of all … if only he'd known, or realized … if only.)

His misguided affair with Izzie.

(There was no excuse … none … it was an impulse, for both of them, one that should have never happened.)

His shame in admitting his shortcomings to Lexie.

(She was pure of heart … but her eyes never wavered, she never prosecuted him like she should have. She accepted him instead.)

In the end, these women – these strong beautiful women – were no match for his idiotic prowess and that was the sad part. But lucky for him, even more amazing than their strength – was their capacity to forgive – they were beautiful, still and somehow over the years they all forgave him, well … maybe his friends more than his mother – she loved him, this much he knew – he just wished she would look at him how she used to a long time ago.

And that, right there, left him in his present quandary, hesitant to do wrong by any woman.

And so over time it seemed to be easier to close himself off and dream of Lexie Grey instead, having fallen in love with her years ago already. He knew it wasn't healthy and much like his crush on Meredith that first year they met, he was scared … and despite that almost everyone knew he had feelings for Lexie – a fact she also may have recently learned after they'd gotten very drunk one night and he not-so-accidentally kissed her, brushing his lips against hers for one brief moment that somehow felt like a lifetime of kisses – no … he didn't trust himself with her.

So dreaming of her had become easier – part of his natural landscape – and he knew that was a cop-out, except it was the easiest way to keep himself on track and free from disappointing anyone else in the process. All of which seemed to be working – with the ER running more efficiently than ever before – George was energized by his work and that energy alone helped him become more whole and healed, especially after that tumultuous first year. And even though he was resigned to live his life this way right now, he'd be lying if he didn't say he missed the physical connection with a woman – a woman's touch – and had even dated various women over the years – but none had pulled on his heartstrings like Lexie – not even George's crush on Meredith could be compared, for he lusted and pined for her and he loved her too, but only as much as he was capable of at the time.

And since then, his heart – the heart of the elevator guy – had been damaged, arteries had blown, fibrillation detected, his valves and ventricles weakened … his endurance depleted until all that was left was the small part of him, a small section of his heart he never dared to feel with and that part, that small part – belonged irrevocably to Lexie Grey – because she got him like no other woman ever had and she loved him (platonically of course) despite all of his faults and mistakes and foolishness … she never asked him to change who he was for her.

And that meant something … to him.

George arrived at the hospital now, entering like he always did, through his front door, the automatic doors to the ER. The wind ushered him inside – pushing against his back – wordlessly inviting him inside. The doors swooshed in closing behind him – and he was home – bright fluorescent lights, the smell of cauterized tissue, clinical air, a sea of doctors and nurses in disposable yellow surgical gowns, everything was just as it should be – and he wasn't surprised – for it was Bailey's on-call rotation. And in all seriousness, there was no way the Chief would have planned a 'gentleman's evening' and left anyone else in charge of the pit, an opinion shared by both George and Owen … Bailey was still the best and no one could touch her.

By rote, he quickly scanned the pit area, made eye contact with the charge nurses at the main desk and nodded in assent. He eyed the board from his stance – looked about right for a Wednesday night – no major traumas (yet) just an eclectic assortment of chest pains, minor head injuries, lacerations of some sort … lots of sutures, sutures, sutures. He finished scanning the room and spotted Lexie through the doorway of a triage room – he meandered closer, engrossed by her perfunctory, yet confident movements over her patient – a young woman with an open head injury. Lexie's eyes remained husband-boyfriend-lover – glancing up, she spotted George, smiled tightly with a quizzical look in her eyes, 'What are you doing here?' she asked without words full-well knowing he was supposed to be at the Chief's – he winked, shrugged his shoulders and backed out of her space, leaving her to her work, she would know where to find him if she needed him.

Smiling now stood outside the room for a beat longer to watch her work. And in that moment, he realized once again how proud he was of her, for under Dr. Bailey's tutelage she had become one of the rising stars of the General Surgery Department. He peered down the brightly lit corridor which led to his office – his home away from home, home is where the heart is, home sweet home – and was about to make his way down there when he heard the booming, yet motherly tenor of Bailey herself… why was it that she always made him feel like he got caught with his hand inside a cookie jar? He turned around to meet his fate and the fiery glow he liked to pretend he could see in her eyes.

"I know you heard me O'Malley," she asserted with a raised brow. "What happened to that … that – 'gentleman's evening' – I had to hear so much about?" she asked incredulously, her disdain evident.

"A little penis envy there Miranda?" George quipped, shaking his head, tsk, tsk, tsk.

"Don't start with me," she said stepping closer, sparring. "And by the smell of you, you're no good to me either … so … if you can't help out … why in the hell are you here?" she demanded (yet the concern in her tone overrode any prejudgments she might have had).

"Wait … who's ER is this?" George asked amusedly.

"Mine! When your ass isn't here and I'm on-call – it's mine – mine!" she glared.

George eyed her, there were no words to say, he simply smiled and shook his head while she sneered – most certainly berating herself for falling into his trap – for she knew he loved to get a rise out of her … and tonight was no different, touché, match point for the lowly ER resident.

"What are you gonna do … sleep here?" she challenged, looking over his shoulder into the exam room where Lexie was working.

"Probably," he sighed, his eyes following hers.

Miranda stepped closer. "Just talk to her," she said conspiratorially as both of them watched Lexie for a beat.

"No," he shook his head. "No … no, not yet," he said.

The doctors heard a scuffle, large amounts of furious activity coming from the entrance way – a raging sea of disposable yellow surgical gowns flooded the scene, strong directives could be heard, action, action, action – it looked like a multiple-injury situation.

"Looks like its business time," Bailey muttered.

"Yeah … get me if you need me," he said, watching her as she shifted on her feet. "You go … and I'll –"

"Be in your office, I know," she said turning to find him. "Dinner tomorrow and don't be late," she said with the serious tone only a mother could deliver.

"Right," he answered with a mock-salute.

He watched her leave and saw Lexie scurry out of the exam room, making her way over to the scuffle before he turned and finally headed down to his office. Dinner with the family, with little Tuck, his namesake – his partner in crime – almost seven now, was always a welcome break for George. It was a monthly tradition Miranda started when she became closer to George's mother after his father passed away – it was first out of their mutual need to grieve – the loss of a father, the loss of a patient close to the heart.

And in the end, there was no denying it … their connection had become this intricate way their lives were woven together – largely by the institute of Seattle Grace and the happenstance of their colliding lives – but here they remained, all these years later – connected – teacher to student … woman to labor-coach … name to name … doctor to family … peer to peer … and lastly … mother to son.

George closed the door behind him and sighed with relief – he left the light off and moved expertly around the small space – leaving the bustle of activity and the chaos in favor of the peaceful solitude he came to find within these four walls. He sighed and carefully made his way to the small leather sofa situated underneath the window. He slipped his jacket and shoes off and sat down – somehow not caring that he smelled like an ashtray or that should probably brush his teeth – because suddenly he was quite tired and nothing but sleep seemed to matter. It was always easier for him to find sleep here … always. Perhaps it was because he could hear the muffled sounds of the ER as they lulled him to sleep, or maybe it was because Lexie was out there somewhere … close by … nearby … no matter what is was … sometimes just knowing she was within reach was enough for him to be able to fall asleep.

Resting his head on cushion of the armrest now, he stared out of the window and let his eyes focus on the misty sky above him – becoming lost within the haze – he closed his eyes with Lexie and his mother and Bailey and his father on his mind now … all jumbled together in a cloudy mess. He opened his eyes when a stock image of Meredith popped into his head … he closed them again and saw Lexie – her beautiful innocence, her inner strength, her brilliant mind – and only then did he finally let himself relax into the moment and within minutes his REM cycle started and he was off to dreamland … where sometimes … sometimes the conditions of his life were perfect.

###

A steamy haze – much like the clouds outside his office window – swirled around George and filled the bathroom where he stood with a tan towel wrapped around his hips – he looked up and found his face in the small vanity mirror, his hair was disheveled, sticking out all over the place … and it was long … so uncharacteristically … long – he started to brush his teeth and watched as he disappeared within the steam, wafting up now along with a strange sense of déjà vu – had he been here before – he wondered for a beat before he heard a soft sigh fill the room. George leaned down and rinsed his mouth – another sigh filled the small space – more than intrigued, he came to stand in front of the tempered glass of the shower doors and there he stayed for several beats before he heard that divine sigh again. He slid the door open.

At first he could only see the steam swirling, swirling, swirling in front of him as it came to rest along his naked skin – he blinked hard, focusing on the old two-inch red tiles that lined the walls and then his heart raced – he was back in Meredith's house! Back in Meredith's bathroom … he closed his eyes. His heart was in shambles.

Dreams. Steam. Red tiles. Meredith. Izzie. Meredith. Cristina. Meredith. Skin. Flesh. Soap. Bomb. Code Black. Flak Jackets. Debris. Pink Mist. Beasts. Doers. Crowning. Birth. Rebirth. Tuck's both big and small. George. George. William George Bailey-Jones. George. George. Meredith. Old Dream-Girl. Lexie. New Dream-Girl. Lexie. Red tiles. Steam. Dreams.

George opened his eyes to his new dream and then he saw her – Lexie – and without another thought, he stepped into the shower to join his 'dream-girl', his Lexie … his heart's desire.

He watched her for a beat before he tossed his towel on the floor outside. He took a deep breath, making any attempt now to calm his heart. The hot water covered his feet, sending an unnecessary stratum of heat throughout his already overheated body. Steam immediately filled his lungs and masked his sense of logic – of course, deep in his subconscious he knew this was just a dream – a dream he wouldn't dare want to wake up from, certainly not now … not with a perfect view of Lexie's beautiful backside as she lathered herself. No way, no how, he mused.

"George," she said softly, turned her head back over her shoulder. She smiled. "Could you do my back?" she asked shyly, although oh so sexy too. Batting her lashes now she turned slightly and offered him a loofah. She backed up and into him, almost pressing her tiny, firm ass into his twitching cock.

Unable to trust himself to say anything, George took the loofah from her and began to gently move it along her soft, round shoulders, then down her straight spine before he abruptly stopped at her inviting derrière, where he promptly dropped the sponge. It landed with a smack in between their feet, hot water splattered up along his shins. Lexie turned around then – and if his heart wasn't in shambles before, it was certainly on the verge of blowing a valve now – she stepped closer and he almost came on the spot.

"That's okay George," she said, taking his hand in hers. "We don't really need that … do we?" she asked innocently, her tongue darting out; she licked her lips … her beautiful face heated.

Hot droplets of water pinged between the would-be lovers – George couldn't breathe – awestruck by Lexie's simple beauty, her alabaster skin, rosy pink cheeks, long regal neck accentuated by her messy up-do. He dared himself to step closer, tempting fate now, afraid to touch her for fear of bursting this more than surreal bubble of a dream.

"No," he said, his voice shaking, so reminiscent of the teenage boy he once was. "I guess we don't," he added with a small smirk.

Daring himself to make the dream a reality now, George reached out and placed his hand along the angular line of her beautifully flushed cheek. She leaned into his touch, stepping even closer, her breasts almost touching his chest now. Toe to toe, they stood for a beat.

"George," she sighed, catching his eyes with hers, she hesitantly touched his face with her hand, her heat left an imprint as she moved her hand down to rest on his shoulder. All he could hear was his raging heart; even the sound of the shower was muted. "I've dreamt of this too …," she added breathlessly, stepping in between their feet now. Her perfectly pert breasts brushed against his pectoral muscles.

George's cock saluted, banging against Lexie's abdomen, her giggle filled the air. He smiled and reacted by running his fingertips slowly down her cheek to her neck before he looked her in the eyes and boldly cupped her breasts in his hands, gently testing their weight. Lexie sighed into the humid air as George passed his thumbs over her ripe, round nipples … they tightened under his gentle strokes, his mouth watered at the thought of her flesh on his tongue.

"Lex …," he sighed, lost in her dark, endlessly sexy gateways, the feeling of her soft flesh in his hands, it was almost too much. His cocked jumped again.

"I …I need your mouth on me George … please," Lexie pleaded gently, flanking his skull in her capable hands.

And as their eyes met and their lips touched for the first time – electricity flowed freely between the pair, surge to surge – both having been without a lover for quite some time now, their kisses became urgent and hungry in no time they were suddenly lost in a sea of desperate arms and groping hands and endless sighs and moans of appreciation.

The duo kissed and lapped and nipped at each other's swollen lips and tongues without abandon – for it was as if they had been cruelly denied the taste of one another – and now without hesitation, their mutual animalistic instincts for each other became more evident with each passing caress.

"Lexie …," George choked out, pulling his lips only a fraction of an inch from hers. "What are we doing?" he panted, his fingers moving around her hairline, his eyes searching for answers … for permission.

"I don't care," she breathed, pulling him closer. "Just don't stop George," she whispered hotly, brushing her hand low against his raging cock. She pulled back and scanned his eyes. "Whatever you do … just don't stop …," she beseeched, her engorged nipples brushing against his chest as she heaved.

"Jesus Lex," he muttered, warm water cascaded over her shoulders – her skin glistening in the dim light, his eyes met hers – this was one hell of a dream.

And on that note, he attacked her skin – that gorgeous plane from her neck to her shoulder – the plane he often dreamt of planting his lips upon and pressing his nose into the underside of her neck now … he did just that. Her arms encircled him as he sucked on her wet, freckled flesh – God she tasted so good – better than he ever dreamt she would. Lexie pulled back and found his eyes, her fingertips found his swollen lips and she smiled, her chest heaved as he took her finger in his mouth and sucked. She leaned in and seized his lips for own once again, obliterating any space between them now as he moved his hand down to her mound.

"I'm so hot for you George," she sighed against his lips, her tongue darting out again. "And my God …," she muttered, moving her hand down, passing it along his cock. "You're huge, so strong, so … masculine," she husked, taking him in her hands now, she pumped – up, down – one hand massaging his sack, the other running along his length … his hips bucked.

George's mind went blank – completely blank, 'strong and masculine', her voice funneled into his mind – he came back to 'reality' though and quickly planted his lips upon Lexie's again and in an effort to move within the dream he moved his mouth along her neck to her clavicle and sucked on her flesh, his thumbs deep in her warm, wet vee now – her sex wafting up, arresting him on first inhalation – and suddenly … suddenly he needed more!

A fury of moans filled the air – hearts aligned, eyes barely open now – he ducked his head down and snatched one of her perfect nipples in between his lips, flicking it with his tongue, breathing her in, lost within his feast upon her flesh – his last meal – as she whimpered into his ear, her hands tugging on his matted hair now as he switched to the other breast, feeling her fleshy nub fill with blood under his lapping tongue and nipping lips – nip, suck, suck, flick, flick, flick, suck, suck, nip – until he felt her tremble in his arms … panting, humming and begging for more as an orgasm rocked her small frame.

"Oh God, George!" she heaved into his ear. "Fuck me … just … fuck me," she pleaded, pressing herself against him, her hands already working his more-than-ready rod.

"Lex …," he husked, grasping her thigh, raising it up around his hip before he moved his fingers through her mound and pierced her hot pussy with his middle finger – molten lava – hot, hot, hot! "Oh …," he heaved, working her pussy. "You really … want me, you're so hot …," he said, brushing his thumb across her clit, her hips jerked in response.

"I do," she sighed, he pumped his finger into her depths again. "And I want more, George! I want your big cock!" she cried out in appreciation, her hips bucking against his finger and thumb.

Without another word, George hoisted her up, grasping her slippery skin the best he could as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He took one meaningful stride and pinned her against the cool tiles of the shower wall before he entered her in one fluid motion – his cock filling her up, her warm, tenacious muscles accepting him there, she cried out for him – and then time stopped … in both in his dream and in his reality, for there was no difference at the moment, no difference at all.

The duo stared at one another for a long moment and George noticed now that the shower spray had become cold, which was fitting considering the untainted heat generated between their bodies.

"Lex …," George said, covering her mouth with his, holding her steady, his cock twitching, her warmth covering him ... he never wanted to slip from her heat, never.

"George …move … just move," she sighed against his lips, pressing her breasts against his chest, constricting her thighs and pussy muscles around him now.

"Gladly," he found himself saying, a small smirk playing along his lips.

Grabbing her hips now, he pulsed upwards into her heat, pressing her back against the tiles to brace himself, the cooler water now a welcome relief for his fever-pricked skin. She gasped in pleasure as he bent his knees into a squat in an effort to pulse upwards, deeper, deeper now, fast and quick for several beats before he slowed his pace and began to gently grind his hips against hers watching now as her eyes closed in bliss and her head lolled back slightly. God, she was so fucking beautiful!

Her moans of appreciation clouded his mind – 'George, George, George' – she chanted as he pulsed up, up, up, bumping against her cervix – deeper, deeper, deeper, as deep as she could take him – her desperate moans filling the air now until it was all he could hear – the louder her chant became – the more furiously he pumped!

"George!"

There was no time to waste now, he was there, almost there, almost ready to blow his fucking top off! His eyes closed tight in concentration – her pussy so incredibly delicious and perfect, the way it fit around his cock like a glove, no space between them now – fuck, fuck, fuck was all he could think … his balls tightened, no longer swinging free, he squeezed his eyes shut, damn … she was so fucking hot and perfect! Perfect for him! Moaning his name, calling for him, wanting him!

"George!"

An intense energy with unknown speed coursed through his entire body and fresh fever pricked his skin, he was about to blow and chose this moment to open his eyes, with one last thought … to cum with her … to watch her cum! She called out to him again and he opened his eyes.

"George!"

###

"George!"

"Ah, oh, oh … damn it!" he whined, his heart racing. "Lexie!" he screeched, horrified now as his heart almost gave out when he found her perched on the side of the sofa right next to him! Holy hell, holy fuck!

She reached for his hot cheek; he flinched. "You're flushed," she stated the obvious. "Are you okay?" she asked, her concern evident.

"Yep, yep," he said, leaning back on his hands, he pushed himself up against the armrest, carefully making eye contact with her. He was sweating.

The steam of their hot and naughty tryst faded away along with the fog in his mind while the horny, porny hound dog music playing somewhere in his subconscious also faded until all that remained were his blue balls and his racing heart. Just fucking great!

"What's up?" he asked, finally trusting himself to speak, he found her eyes in the dim light. "Do you need me out there?" he asked hopefully, getting back down to business.

And then the dream was definitely over –so over before he even came with his 'dream-girl' – and what was worse, he was a big fucking sweaty, wet-dream mess! No … no times had not changed, he may as well have been back in high school! How fucking embarrassing … he looked away from his crush … closing his eyes – she appeared before him … wet and naked and flushed, her chest heaved with virtual want for him– he opened his eyes to his reality once again.

"No," she said, standing up, she turned away from him. "Not out there – no – we … we don't … need you …," she muttered, pacing now. She slipped her lab coat off and tossed it onto his desk. George followed her circuit, watching her carefully now as she gathered speed.

"What then?" he asked, following her lead, he stood. She turned to him. He watched her cheeks heat – blotches of pink appeared now – and he knew she was stuck. He knew her well enough to know she was confused, that her photographic mind was working on over-drive. Either that … or she needed sleep. "Lex, what?" he persisted, taking a couple of meaningful steps toward her.

She turned away from him and rested her back against the door. A shadow conveniently shrouded her face. "I just – I want to try something – the other night … when we … you know … conditions weren't perfect George …," she stammered nervously in frustration, she smiled weakly and then looked at the ceiling. "Not that they are now," she chastised herself, rambling on, finally moving out of the dark. She smiled again; she was a nervous, twitching, rambling mess (much like how he felt around her sometimes). "I just want –"

"What?" George said, stepping closer, hardly believing they were headed where he hoped they were. "Because I know what I want …," he said boldly – carpe diem, fuck it – he decided right then and there he was going for it… for her! "Who do you want?" he persisted, locking her eyes with his for a moment … he wanted her, he had always wanted her and now … now he just needed to tell her.

"You," she sighed, locking the door with her hand behind her back. "When you kissed me … I …felt …," she shook her head.

"What did you feel?" he asked, coming to stand in front of her. She wanted him, wow, wow … was all he could think … he wanted her to pinch him. He placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned in. "I know what I felt …," he confessed. "You can say anything to me …," he breathed and she chuckled nervously.

She cocked her head. "What did you feel?" she answered with a question of her own, sparring now.

"You … your lips … you kissed me back," he said boldly, leaning closer still – say it, say it, say it – he coached himself. "I have a confession …," he said softly, brown eyes scanning brown eyes now.

"A confession …," she sighed, leaning into him slightly.

"Hmm, yes …," he smiled, taking a deep breath of their air inside his lungs. "I … I've been in love with you for … ever," he said, his heart raging inside his chest, no sign of letting up … he watched all the worry disappear from her eyes, her face softened … and then she was just Lexie – his best friend, his muse, his crush – suddenly his everything.

"I'm in love with you too, George," she sighed, sucking in a deep breath. "I always have been …," she whispered. George swallowed hard. "And …," she said softly, she closed her eyes, releasing tiny tears. George ran his fingertips along her hairline and across her cheeks, don't cry, don't cry, he smiled and so did she.

"And …," he whispered, daring himself again, to leap, to take it all on faith.

"And … I always will be," she breathed. "I love you … there, I finally said it and you … you … love me too," she giggled breathlessly.

"I do … I do," he sighed; hardly believing he said it at all.

Staring at each other now it was as if nothing was different, except that everything was – more intense, more intimate – her brown eyes scanned his, her hot breath breezed across his cheeks, fanning him, heating him up. Nose to nose, fingertips massaging skulls … they finally came to see eye to eye.

And in that stolen moment – locked away from the world and all the chaos of the ER – all of their tumult … and all of their secret feelings … washed back out to sea with the quiet storm of 'them', taking with it their desperation and separation too.

"Now what?" he asked, his body humming … the electrical currents running between them, the cause.

"Kiss me again, George," she sighed with her searching eyes, her hot breath still fanning his face. He reached up and took her head in his hands and did just that.

And as their lips met it felt exactly like it did that night – like they had been kissing each other for an eternity already – like she was the only woman he was meant to kiss for now and for all time. Tears of suppressed emotion gathered his eyes and he gathered her in his arms and finally allowed himself to lean into her heat, to breathe her in, to pulse his lips over hers and massage her tongue with his … because he was meant to … because she wanted him too and because finally … finally … conditions were perfect.

Business Time – Part 4 – Alex Karev to follow.