@lxstfights | things you said | accepting↳ things you said as we danced in our socks
1) GIMME THE BOTTLE. almost no time is spent waiting for her to oblige before he grabs it and takes a swig of whatever it is they’re drinking now, feet carrying him around the coffee table. the surgery they scrubbed in on was a success & they’re dancing celebrating! his free hand takes hers, twirling her around until she falls into him, a laugh twinkling on her lips that sounds considerably better than the music blasting around them. he doesn’t quite remember how the night ends, but he wakes up on the couch to the smell of coffee wafting into the living room, a headache throbbing at his temples, and izzie curled up beside him.
2) THIS IS STUPID. he mumbles it into the golden crown of her head, arms wrapped loosely around her waist. the warm scent of banana muffins and an easy tune surround them. he isn’t sure how long they’ve been standing here, slow-dancing in the middle of meredith’s kitchen —— but he wouldn’t mind staying like this all night. it’s comfortable. stupid, but comfortable. she’s warm against him, and he likes the way she holds onto him, the way she stands on his feet and lets him guide them around, the way she nuzzles her ear into his chest. he likes all of that, and he loves her, and he just might let out a muted sigh when the oven timer goes off.
3. HERE, JUST STAND ON MY FEET. she is weak from chemo. her arms are wrapped around him out of necessity just as much as they are out of affection now, fingers curled into the back of his shirt. there is no music, only the beeping of her monitors, and he is careful not to move along to their rhythm as he guides them in slow circles near the end of her hospital bed. they dance like that, silent and somber, for exactly seventeen minutes before the lump in his throat grows to be unbearable. he plants a kiss atop her scarf-wrapped head before scooping her into his arms bridal-style & carrying her to the bed, where he lays beside her for the rest of the night, wide awake.
