I Think I Love You [Grey’s Anatomy]

I Think I Love You
by Jennifer-Oksana
Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy
Rating: PG-13/R
Pairing: Cristina/Meredith, mentions of the canon ships.
Spoilers: 3.20
Disclaimer: Shonda Rimes owns ’em, I just want to make them happy.
Summary: When Cristina and Meredith find themselves playing naked twister, they have to decide if best friends can be good lovers.


It’s okay. Seriously, it’s going to be okay. Nobody’s going to think anything’s weird. She’s just here, in the house of the wayward intern, in her panties and Meredith’s sweater, because sometimes she sleeps over at Meredith’s.

She’s totally not going to be busted for spending the whole night fucking Meredith into sweaty hot submission, unless maybe Alex has a magic radar for lesbian sex.

Fuck, Cristina hopes that she doesn’t run into Alex. He’ll know. Or he won’t know and he’ll make a lesbian joke and Cristina will give it away and then he will know and seriously, she should have just peed in a cup or something.

She needs a plan. She has a plan.

Move quickly, move silently, and then thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster for the stealth.

Cristina follows the plan, succeeds, is in mid-piss when she realizes that she fucked Meredith. And only after two glasses of wine and two shots of tequila apiece.

“Fuck,” Cristina says, thinking of what this means. Seriously. They’d slept naked on each other. When they slept, when they were finally too tired to keep going, because they’d almost go to sleep, and then one of them would start humping the other’s thigh and then it was on.

Alex is so going to bust her if she keeps sitting here stressing.

Cristina finishes up, washes her hands (she is not going to get the Callie Treatment), and scurries back to bed. Meredith is still tucked around the sheet Cristina shaped up for her, so okay, maybe Cristina can find her jeans and…

“Hey,” Meredith says groggily, one eye open. “That’s my sweater.”

“I had to pee,” Cristina says. “I didn’t want Alex to…”

“Whatever, Alex is probably out fucking an Addison-or-Ava substitute,” Meredith replies. “Get back in bed. I’m cold and sleepy.”

“Um, yeah, it’s raining and we were up until like, three,” Cristina says. “Are you hung over?”

Meredith makes a noise that says nothing except that she is tired and Cristina kind of wonders if McDreamy found that sexy or something. Cristina finds it really fucking passive-aggressive.

Wait, did Meredith just tell her to get back in bed?

“Do you want me to come back to bed?” Cristina asks.

“Yeah. I’m cold,” Meredith whines.

Okay, this is either Meredith forgetting they had sex, or Meredith being totally okay with them having sex, and Cristina’s really pretty tired and she wishes she knew what the fuck was going on.

So Cristina decides it’s not like she hasn’t slept with Meredith before and gets back into bed.

Carefully. Leaving a little space, because Meredith is still all kinds of naked and she doesn’t want to act like they’re dating or something.

Meredith throws an arm around Cristina and is immediately pressed up on her like a skinny little blanket.

“What part of I’m freaking cold don’t you get?” she asks.

“Okay, okay, just making sure you remembered you were naked,” Cristina says, pulling the sheets around them cuz she’s really tired.

“I’ll remember that when I’m not sleeping,” Meredith murmurs, before passing out on Cristina and beginning the breathing noise that will become snoring soon.

Cristina decides to go back to sleep before that happens, because Meredith has an annoying snore. Also because as plans for Saturdays go, it is a pretty good plan.


And that’s how their first time goes. They don’t talk about it. Meredith wakes up, takes a shower, and gets a coffee.

Cristina follows suit.

Alcohol, Cristina figures. That’s the cover story.

Not that they have to make up a cover story, because Alex was out screwing a substitute, Izzie was at the farmer’s market, and George sleeps the sleep of the just.

The next time, Cristina’s just done a quadruple bypass and everyone, not just Cristina, can feel the good of it. She doesn’t even need Bailey’s impressed nod, though she takes it and smiles back, because it’s that good.

“Yang, that was brilliant work,” she can almost hear Burke say. He would have said it, even after the end, seeing that procedure. Cristina knows that, and is glad she can remember the good parts of Burke now.

So suddenly, Cristina is pumping adrenaline because she’s good. No matter what anyone says, under pressure, she can do a quad bypass and save a life. The guy on her table, he’s gonna be talking to his grandkids next week, making jokes about no more ham or whatever the fuck he ate too much of, but the point is, he’s going to be talking, and sometimes, that’s the best feeling in the world, knowing that you made it possible by being GOOD at something…

Alex and Meredith are suddenly there. “Dude,” says Alex, “That was so hot I almost got a boner.”

“Ew,” Cristina says, turning her gaze on Meredith, who grins at her. And it’s a naughty nympho grin. “It was totally hot, wasn’t it?”

“Almost as good as Leo’s ass,” Meredith says. “Let’s go celebrate that with sandwiches and maybe a nap.”

Somehow, sandwiches and maybe a nap becomes Cristina’s hand under Meredith’s scrubs and Meredith’s tongue down Cristina’s throat.

“You were in the zone,” Meredith pants, in between sucking on Cristina’s neck. “It was like, amazing…”

“I KNOW, it was like, I had this total calm going,” Cristina agrees, twisting Mer’s nipple between her fingers. “And now I’m just…oh, fuck yes, fuck yes…”

That’s the sound Cristina makes when Meredith puts her hand down Cristina’s pants, apparently. Well, it’s the sound she makes before biting down on her hand, anyway.

She actually squeaks when she comes, but that’s because they’re trying to be quiet, which doesn’t quite succeed because Meredith cracks up.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know, I was trying not to get busted having dirty sex in the hospital,” Cristina says.

“Good point,” Meredith says, leaning in and pecking Cristina on the nose. “You are so super-surgeon today.”

“I’m super-surgeon every day,” Cristina replies, grinning and tapping Meredith’s ass. “I am totally your daddy today.”

“You are strange and occasionally wrong,” Meredith says, shaking her head. “But you do kick all kinds of ass today, so that’s okay.”

That’s how good Cristina is today. She’s so good that she’s everyone’s daddy. Even Meredith’s, even though with Meredith’s daddy issues, that’s weird.

Whatever. She is everyone’s daddy.


Seriously. Once is an accident, twice is a fluke, but it’s Tuesday night, and during a commercial break during a really shitty House, which they’re watching for mocking purposes, Cristina’s hand brushes against’s Meredith’s while reaching for more microwave popcorn.

Meredith’s knee then bumps against Cristina’s thigh.

Cristina then flicks Meredith’s shoulder with her fingers.

“Quit it.”

Meredith sticks out her god-damned tongue.

“No.”

Cristina bounces a kernel of popcorn off Meredith’s forehead.

“Oh, don’t make me…”

Meredith picks the kernel up out of her lap, smirks, and eats it.

“Or else what?”

Cristina grabs Meredith’s wrists and pulls them over her head.

“I’m so warning you.”

Meredith squirms backwards, fighting the grip while rendering them semi-horizontal in the process.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she says, wriggling her hips and kicking cutely.

“Oh, YEAH?” Cristina asks, letting go so she can tickle the defenseless Meredith.

“Oh, you bit…” Meredith manages to get out before she and Cristina realize they’re like, not even an inch from kissing and she moves up as Cristina moves down and suddenly?

It’s a kiss.

Meredith’s stroking Cristina’s arm and Cristina is fastened to Meredith’s mouth, getting the hair out of her way before kissing Meredith’s jaw up to her ear.

And they just keep making out. Not even in an aggressive, hardcore, fast-paced prelude to a fuck sort of way. It’s slow. There’s lots of kissing, and okay, so Cristina starts dry-humping Meredith, but no clothing is being removed.

It’s more like…Cristina’s sucking on Meredith’s earlobe and Meredith’s trying to angle up on the seam of Cristina’s jeans while rubbing circles on Cristina’s back and Cristina swirls her tongue on Meredith’s throat and Meredith whimpers and starts kissing the top of Cristina’s head. Making out.

They don’t talk. They make noises, but no words, not until Meredith finally makes this little grunt-ooh-ah and sinks into the couch, all sweaty-faced and satisfied. Cristina kisses the side of her face and then they just lay there, entwined and maybe kind of sort of cuddling.

“That episode really sucked,” Meredith says.

“It both sucked and blew,” Cristina agrees.

“Cristina?” Meredith asks.

“Am I on your hair?” Cristina answers, immediately shifting so as not to be too close.

“No, that’s okay,” Meredith says hoarsely. “Do you want to go get coffee or ice cream or something?”

“Nothing’s open right now,” Cristina points out. “I should, y’know, go home anyway.”

Meredith suddenly gets this look on her face like Cristina’s kicked her dog. “So you’re going to fuck and run?” she asks, all pissy-voiced. “Hello, I’m your person here.”

Cristina breathes out. “Wait, so you considered that sex, too?” she asked, totally relieved that they’re finally talking about their strange behavior.

“I think we’ve had sex three times,” Meredith says slowly. “Do you think non-penetrative doesn’t count or something?”

“No! No!” Cristina protests, sitting up and pushing the hair out of her face. “It’s just that last I checked, you weren’t gay.”

“And you were?” Meredith asked, making a face. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one of us who broke off your engagement with a man two weeks before the ceremony.”

Cristina bites her lip and looks away. “Um, there were maybe some…incidents…in college and in grad school,” she says.

“What, you were an LUG?” Meredith asks, slapping her knee and snorting. “Cristina!”

“I was a BUG, and shut up, you’re the one who brought up that we’ve had sex three times first,” Cristina answers, glaring. “Also, I say fuck the coffee, let’s go get a beer.”

Meredith pauses, tilts her head, and nods. “I like the way you think,” she says. “Beer. Definitely beer.”


Beer doesn’t solve anything. In fact, the post-House conversation about having sex is the only conversation Meredith and Cristina have about it for a long time.

Okay, for three weeks, but that’s a long time to have sex four more times and not even mention that they’re up to seven rounds of lesbian sex despite neither of them being a lesbian. It’s like they’ve taken two steps forward and one step back.

Cristina doesn’t want to talk about it, but maybe it’s her turn. Meredith pointed out they were having sex, so maybe Cristina has to point out they’re still having sex, and this may need to go somewhere. Or stop.

Cristina totally even has a plan. They’ll go out for pancakes. Meredith doesn’t always like food, but nobody can resist IHOP, especially with the special syrups.

“My mother and stepfather made kimchi latkes once,” Cristina will tell Meredith while they’re waiting for the Rooty Tooty Fresh’n’Fruity. “According to my mother, they have kimchi pancakes in Korea. I told her I wasn’t going to eat a kimchi latke anyway. She accused me of being a self-loathing Korean Jew.”

“Isn’t kimchi pickled cabbage?” Meredith will ask, drinking the shitty but basically free coffee and playing footsie with Cristina under the table.

“Kimchi is many pickled things, but usually pickled cabbage, yeah,” Cristina agrees.

“I would think there are only so many things you could make with pickled cabbage,” Meredith will say, grinning at Cristina while Cristina grins back. They will both totally be thinking about having sex later, because they are both apparently filthy filthy whores who gotta have it.

“You would be wrong,” Cristina will reply, reaching under the table and grabbing Meredith’s hand. “Once, when I was in high school, my mom made an all-kimchi dinner. Kimchi soup, kimchi rice, kimchi chicken, and oh yeah…kimchi.”

“That’s excessive,” Meredith will say, nodding and squeezing Cristina’s hand.

“You’re not wrong,” Cristina will say. “So is this a thing? I think it’s a thing, but we’re totally talking around it, so…you know…”

“I think it’s a thing, but it’s a thing where there’s our person-hood to consider,” Meredith will answer, pretty serious-face. “Because the other stuff has a way of wrecking stuff. Job stuff, life stuff…also, sometimes I think, hmm, I’m basically dating my dead mother. That might not be healthy.”

Cristina will pause and think about this. She will realize it’s true just as the waitress sets down their steaming plates of pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

“Well,” she’ll offer, noticing that Meredith’s still holding her hand, “Are you a Korean-American who lives in Beverly Hills, spends money like water, and bitches about seating at seder?”

Meredith’ll make a face. “No.”

“Okay, so you’re not my mother, so maybe we’re okay.”

Yes. It will go something like that. Cristina is pretty ready to do it, too.

Right after she finishes picking up her jaw from the floor, and manages to look up at Bailey, who has totally just walked in on her and Meredith going at it during hour nineteen of a two day on-call session.

“Grey, pull on your damn panties,” Bailey is saying. “Yang, close your mouth.”

Oh, Jesus, and that’s George standing behind her, looking all prim-faced and shocked and Cristina closes her mouth. Fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

“O’Malley, out,” Bailey orders, and Cristina almost says something, but Bailey gives her the Classic Nazi Look, and Meredith is shivering in her panties and that’s probably a bad idea.

“Um,” Cristina manages.

Bailey fixes her with a look. Cristina shuts the hell up.

And then Bailey starts laughing and laughing hard. “If you two fools could see the look on your faces…” she says.

“Are we on bedpan duty?” Cristina asks.

“I think you two punish yourselves with your own actions better than I ever could,” Bailey replies. “How long do you really think O’Malley’s going to last before he shares your little secret?”

Cristina looks at Meredith, who sighs. “We’re screwed,” Meredith says.

“At least it wasn’t Alex who saw us,” Cristina says, trying to sound hopeful. “Seriously. We’re boned.”

“Maybe that’ll teach your dumb asses to stop fooling around in my surgery ward,” Bailey says, reminding them they are basically in trouble. “Get dressed. Get cleaned up. Get back on rounds. Stop having sex in my hospital.”

Meredith ducks her head. Cristina nods.

So. So. SO. Very screwed.


“I’m supposed to pretend I didn’t hear about the antics, aren’t I?” Sloan asks, giving Meredith a once-over as they work on a skin graft for a fourth-degree burn victim. “That’s Chief-like of me, right?”

“Apparently, being Chief-like means not dating me, or interns in general,” Meredith replies, not meeting Sloan’s eyes. “But aren’t you supposed to be teaching me how to graft skin now?”

“I’m teaching. You’re learning. Everyone knows, Grey,” Sloan replies. “By the way, good for you, don’t do that at work.”

Meredith wants to roll her eyes and blush, but she’s in surgery, and fuck, she kind of hates McSteamy. Actually, she also hates George for telling Izzie, and Izzie for telling everyone. Kind of by accident — but still.

“Careful,” Sloan says. “Good. Change to the 3 millimeter when?”

“When I finish the jawline,” Meredith says.

“In a few years, we’re going to have lasers doing this,” Sloan muses. “Hell of a lot less scarring, but I’m not sure I like the idea of keeping my hands steady on a laser that could blind a patient on the table.”

Cristina is probably watching them from the gallery. Well, more like defending herself from whatever Alex is saying.

Meredith, changing to the three millimeter, suddenly realizes something. Nobody has yelled at her for having sex with Cristina. Well, okay, George yelled at her, but George is not somebody in the sense she means somebody. The grown-ups are all remarkably quiet.

Seriously. Strange.

And Sloan has her doing a surgery with him, which is his usual tactic to kick her up a notch when he thinks she shouldn’t be down. And Bailey had just laughed and told them not to have sex in the hospital.

Seriously, very strange.

“Grey, easy there. We want to minimize scarring for him,” Sloan says. “He’s going to need how many grafts?”

“At least fourteen,” Meredith remembers. “And this is number four.”

“Right,” Sloan says. “So let’s make sure he wants to come back to Seattle Grace for numbers five and so on, okay? We can talk about your sex life later, when it’s not distracting.”

Okay, so he’s still a toolbox. Good. Meredith was starting to worry she’d fallen into, like, an alternate universe or something.

She’ll have to tell Cristina later.

Of course, Cristina’s not talking to her, having freaked out about being busted again, but theoretically, she’ll remember to tell Cristina when Cristina’s talkable again.

“I can’t wait for there to be lasers,” Meredith says, suddenly remembering one of Sloan’s earlier comments.

“Kids,” is all Sloan answers.


Everyone is looking at her. It’s like she has a giant LESBIAN sticker on her forehead. Because being the freakishly overambitious Korean Jew who broke up with Preston Burke right before he took off and joined Doctors Without Borders to find himself wasn’t enough, now she’s the lesbian.

Also, Meredith really clearly wants to talk to her, but Cristina is still on being a queer Korean Jew in yet another interracial relationship. And how everyone is looking at her. Everyone isn’t looking at Meredith. Sloan gave her the skin graft to remind her that she’s a surgeon.

Sloan let Cristina watch, because she’s a lesbian, and after all, everyone already knows she’s good. Of course, good doesn’t mean she gets to do any surgeries, but hey. People are just being nice to Meredith.

Okay, George was like, “are you nuts? You just broke up with McDreamy! Have you learned nothing about the rebound?” but translated from George, that’s, “I totally fucked it up with Callieeeeeee, pay attention to me! Me me me!” and Cristina doesn’t care.

“Scoot over,” Alex says. “So, your girlfriend got my surgery and you’re acting like you’re the screwed one. Typical Yang.”

“Shut the hell up, Karev,” Cristina hisses.

“Whatever, I could smell it on you two for a month,” Alex replies with a shrug. “You two suck at sneaking around. Also, I totally walked in on you two humping during Desperate Housewives.”

“It was House and shut the hell up,” Cristina repeats.

Two other newish interns snicker, and Cristina suddenly wishes for the ability to beat them around the head and shoulders with a stick. Alex rolls his eyes.

“Dude, you two are virgins,” he says to the interns. “If you had a chance to see that action, you would have come in your shorts.”

Both interns shut up. Cristina blinks.

“What was that?” she mutters to Alex.

“I’m dealing with the fact I’m a neo-natal surgeon, I might have fucked up a good thing with Addison, and I feel emo about it,” he answers. “If I didn’t do something manly, I was about to sprout boobs.”

Okay, so not a parallel universe. She’ll have to tell Meredith, though. Everyone is weirdly approving.

Of course, that would mean talking to Meredith.

Damn it.


“How long has the great Meredith-and-Cristina silent war been going on now?” Izzie asks Cristina, much much later, leaning against the nurse’s station with a coffee.

“Five days, eighteen hours, and I think thirty-one minutes,” Cristina answers. “It’s not a war. It’s a considered pause.”

“A pause? You two were like, joined at the hip even before you decided to go all the way,” Izzie replies, snorting and slurping her coffee. “We’re on clinic duty today, right?”

“Right,” Cristina says. “Because everyone’s punishing me for being the minority lesbian.”

Izzie chokes on the coffee. “Seriously?”

“Has Meredith been left out of any surgeries recently? No. She’s done two since there was silence,” Cristina says. “I, on the other hand, am working the clinic. Again.”

There’s a long, long silence from Izzie. “Huh,” she finally says.

“Huh what?” Cristina asks.

“Huh, you have kind of a point,” Izzie says. “That’s kind of fucked up. But that’s not Meredith’s fault.”

Cristina rolls her eyes. “Did I say it’s Meredith’s fault?” she asks. “What am I supposed to say, hey, it’s great that everyone’s reacting to your maybe-queer-sexuality with surgeries so that nobody can think there’s bias at Seattle Grace. Did I mention my career is going down the tubes because of it?”

“Maybe, yeah,” Izzie says, fixing her with a look. “Because Meredith would fight for you. She’d kick Sloan in the shins or something.”

“What if I don’t want Meredith to feel guilty because she’s not the one fucking up my career?” Cristina counters, putting her hands on her hips.

There’s another pause from Izzie. “Then I’d say you’re kind of in love with her, and that means I owe Olivia fifty bucks,” she says. “Damn.”

Now it’s Cristina’s turn for the pause. “In love?” she asks. “I mean, I love Meredith. She is my person. But I don’t…you’re kind of…”

“You’re getting muscled out of surgeries for gayitude and you don’t want to bitch about it to Meredith because she’d feel bad. You bitch about getting pushed out of the OR when you have bronchitis,” Izzie says. “I figured you’d have a lawyer by now, but you’re totally not suing because of Mer.”

That’s totally true, and Cristina hates Izzie a little for bringing it up.

Because first, Cristina was already going to threaten people with Beverly Hills lawyers and discrimination against Jewish-Korean lesbians, starting with Sloan and Bailey, if she wasn’t in an OR today. And second, because if Izzie is right, Cristina is being a real fucking bitch to Meredith.

“There better be a surgery out of the clinic today, or I swear to GOD, the discrimination suit is going to make Sloan’s toned ass pucker,” Cristina growls in a low tone.

“Ha ha, you’re in looooove,” Izzie says. “I told you it would get you at last.”

There’s not really anything to say to that, so Cristina goes with, “Your mom.”

“You do realize I’m not Alex, right?” Izzie replies. “Your mom. Whatever.”


Meredith has some sort of inherent defect, she has decided. It makes her everyone’s temporary heady infatuation, but when it wears off, it means that everyone she loves runs, runs, runs away.

Maybe she should take Sloan up on his offer of dirty, dirty sex. He’s honest. He won’t tell her she’s his person and then stop talking to her when they get caught. He will treat her the way she deserves to be treated.

Thinking like this is probably why Meredith is crying in the bathroom like a junior high girl at the big dance.

“Grey, are you in here?” someone asks, and oh, god, it’s Bailey. Meredith sniffles.

“I’m not feeling well,” she says in a shaky voice. “Give me a minute.”

“Grey, are you crying because your idiot girlfriend isn’t talking to you?” Bailey asks. “Get out here. Get out here right now.

Meredith sniffles and then, tears in her eyes, and totally more embarrassed than ever, steps out of the stall. Bailey sighs.

“I’m sorry,” Meredith says, half-laughing and half-crying. “I’m sorry, I know better than this. Maybe I should go home and pull it together, or quit surgery because I’m a big blubbery ball of stupid who gets emotionally distracted…”

“Meredith Grey, be quiet,” Bailey orders.

Meredith shuts up.

“I like Dr. Shepherd,” Bailey begins. “I liked him, anyway. He treated you like shit, girl, and you know it. He didn’t even have the balls to leave you. He made you leave him. And I know that tore you up, and it tears you up, working with him.”

“Not anymore,” Meredith says. Actually, that’s true. How long has it been true. “I mean it.”

“I know you do,” Bailey says, taking a deep breath to hide her annoyance at being interrupted. “But what I’m saying is that you never cried this hard in the bathroom over Shepherd. But when Yang stops talking to you for how long?”

“Five days, twenty hours, maybe fifteen minutes,” Meredith answers automatically.

“You blubber like you lost your dog, your best friend, and your man at the same damn time,” Bailey says. “You know Yang’s emotionally — well, Yang is an ambitious, tactless, driven pain in the ass who’s already a better heart surgeon than half the country.”

“I can’t do it again,” Meredith says, flailing slightly. “I won’t break up again. She’ll have to do it herself.”

“Grey,” Bailey says. “Yang hasn’t has a surgery in five days, and I just had to chew Sloan’s ass for keeping her off the board. Before you go getting all dramatic and crying all over your scrubs, you might want to take a deep breath and remember you’re the one who wants that girl.”

Meredith pauses. Wow, she’d totally missed that in all the avoiding Cristina and avoiding the possible break-up. Some girlfriend (or even potential girlfriend) she was.

“Sloan kept Cristina out of the OR? Is he nuts? Cristina knows like, ten high-priced lawyers who golf with her mom,” she says. “Cristina once tried to get you to let her in the OR with walking pneumonia.”

Bailey’s look goes dark at that little tidbit that Meredith suddenly remembers was a secret. “She told me it was bronchitis,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “But that’s not the point. The point is Sloan said he didn’t realize he was doing it — and I think that’s true. That doesn’t mean I agree with him, but it does mean Yang should be back to normal soon.”

“I’ll cut him,” Meredith says without thinking or really hearing much of Bailey’s statement, starting to pace back and forth. “I’m little, but I’m scrappy. I could totally cut him while he wasn’t looking.”

To Meredith’s surprise, Bailey laughs again. “Yang’ll come around,” she says. “So quit your crying and get your ass to the gallery. Your girlfriend’s got herself a hell of case. Some guy with a five pound tumor on his leg showed up in the clinic this morning.”

Meredith nods.

A leg tumor? Cristina should do just fine with that.


Inez Reynolds is small, dark-haired, and has a pretty but tired face. Cristina remembers, vaguely, that Mr. Reynolds mentioned she works as a waitress near the trailer park where they live, so that their daughter can afford the cost of being a cheerleader.

Meredith is sitting next to the woman, holding her hand and not meeting Cristina’s eyes.

“But they said it was only a tumor on his leg,” Mrs. Reynolds is saying. “How could Eddie die from a tumor on his leg? I told him, I told him to see a doctor, but he couldn’t get the time from work…”

“Mrs. Reynolds, this is Dr. Torres, and this is Dr. Yang. They were the surgeons for your husband,” says Meredith, looking up at Cristina.

Cristina swallows and thanks god that Callie’s the one who has to explain how having a growth the size of a C-cup boob on your leg might kill you. Because she’s looking at Mrs. Reynolds and just sees this sad, resigned look on her face. Like no matter what Callie says, it doesn’t make it any better.

It makes Cristina want to scream. Surgeons are supposed to make that look not happen. Surgeons cheat fate. That is their job, they tell nature and god and fate to fuck off, it is a good job, and they have failed this woman.

“I’m sorry,” Cristina says, interjecting. “This isn’t making you feel any better, is it?”

“He’s dead, doctor,” Mrs. Reynolds says flatly. “He’s dead and there’s not even a good reason. Modern medicine didn’t do us no good. Do you even know what caused that thing?”

“No. And it pisses me off as much as you do,” Cristina says.

Callie and Meredith are both, like, totally appalled at her. Mrs. Reynolds looks at Cristina and nods, though. Probably she’s in shock, but Cristina thinks maybe, maybe she’s helped a little.

“I didn’t know it was so bad,” Mrs. Reynolds says. “I told him, don’t be a baby, it’s not a big deal. I didn’t want it to be a big deal. I thought if I didn’t think so, it would just stop.”

“You didn’t know,” Callie says.

“My husband had a giant thing on his leg. I should have said. But I was scared,” Mrs. Reynolds says. “I want to see him now.”

Cristina’s heart is in her throat, and it’s beating hard. Really hard. She looks at Callie, who has to know about her and Meredith, and the Big War of Silence. Callie tilts her head.

“I’ll take you there,” she says. “You two stay here. Do the charts.”

Cristina nods at her, grateful. Whatever Meredith does, Cristina doesn’t know, because she’s too afraid to look.

Callie leads Mrs. Reynolds off, and Cristina sits down next to Meredith, shivering with fear and nerves and whatever.

“Hi,” Cristina says. “I totally got shafted out of OR time this week because I’m a Korean lesbian. Also, Alex is on the side of our…thing.”

“So is Bailey. So is Sloan, in his weird Sloan way,” Meredith says. “Bailey kicked him for you.”

Cristina nods. “I was going to sic lawyers on his smug ass if there wasn’t kicking or surgery,” she admits. “I didn’t want you to feel guilty because Sloan gives you surgeries to butch you up. So I didn’t, um, talk to you about it. Because I don’t like to make you upset.”

“I cried in the bathroom because I thought you were going to make me break up with you after Derek did that to me,” Meredith says, and Cristina’s breath catches in her throat. “Bailey caught me.”

“You were crying in the bathroom?” Cristina asks. “Seriously? About you and me breaking up? Even though we’re not even technically dating?”

“Seriously,” Meredith says with a sigh.

Cristina flops back into her chair and lets out a long humming sound. Because this is crazy intense, this is like, stupid like Izzie and Denny, or like George and Callie and Izzie and god knew who else in that mess. This is the way Burke always wanted it to be when he wasn’t demanding she pick her own wedding cake to prove their love, even when she doesn’t care abut cake.

Cristina doesn’t know what to say.

So she holds out her hand, quietly. Nervously. What if Meredith doesn’t…what are they going to do about this? She can’t lose Meredith. That’s not an option. She will have to resort to sneaky measures if Meredith is already lost, because Meredith can’t be lost.

Oh, god, what if she is, though?

This is totally why you should never be in love with your best friend.

This is totally why people say best friends make the best lovers.

Cristina takes a breath. Exhales. Starts to count, one-two-three-four-five-six…

Meredith’s hand, when wrapped around Cristina’s, is smooth, tiny, and cold. And her icy little fingers are a little clammy. Their fingers don’t quite lace together right anyway, because of calluses and bends and little weirdnesses you get from surgery. It’s definitely an imperfect grip.

It squeezes really hard, though. It’s definitely going to hold on.

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3 responses to “I Think I Love You [Grey’s Anatomy]

  1. i like this. alot. youre a wonderful writer.

  2. I don’t even watch this show and I fucking love this fic. XD…

  3. This is so perfectly Christina and Meredith that I could cry. Great work.

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