Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Rating: Strong PG
Summary: George talks about the state of his life with someone.
Pairing: Callie/George implied .... George/Izzie implied
A/N: This is not a pro Izz-me fic. This is for Rebe, who went into remission in time for Thanksgiving and wanted to know what the *hell* George is thinking. ;)
Not for nothing ... the greener grass on the other side is probably Astroturf.
I didn’t remember enough about my night with Izzie Stevens to recall that her breasts are fake. They’re hard and round and they don’t bounce no matter how hard she rides you. Touching them feels like touching a smooth, velvety basketball. Or a softball. Yeah, a softball. She’s not *that* endowed. Actually, now that I’ve seen her in the flesh and touched every inch of her ... she’s not really a supermodel either.
They airbrushed her liposuction scars out of the pictures. And the one from her tummy tuck as well. What? Did you really think a woman with a kid could have a belly like that? Please.
They also fixed her crooked tooth which is something I find myself staring at every single time she talks to me. And her morning breath? Kills. Plus, she misses half the hairs on her legs when she shaves and her underarm hair could be braided. And ... well, her toenails are like razor blades and she flails in her sleep and ... I'm rambling now.
I used to feel honored to introduce her as my best friend. I used to enjoy the attention that other men paid to me when they found out that I was the roommate of ‘Bethany Whisper’. They wanted to know whether I had seen her naked, whether I had sniffed her underwear. Shut up, it’s what men do. Well, some men. Not me ... I wanted Meredith Grey. I never, ever looked at Izzie that way. Never.
And truthfully ... I still don’t look her that way.
She’s goofy Izzie. She’s the girl who bakes when her heart is broken. The girl who left eight million dollars on the refrigerator. The girl who used to tease me the way an older sister would and ... what?
Yes, I know that this isn’t the deep South and incest isn’t funny. Can I finish here?
What I’m saying is ... I demolished Callie, obliterated my marriage, and disappointed everyone ... including myself ... and I did it for nothing. I don’t know why. I guess I was scared. Callie was saying things like ‘let’s have a baby’ and ‘we should buy a house’ and I freaked. I was terrified of her every single time she suggested that we take a bigger step. I can’t even explain why. She made me feel safe, you know?
Did I ever tell you about my dad’s funeral? Izzie didn’t go because she wasn’t able after the whole Denny thing. So, Callie got there at the crack of dawn to fix breakfast for my family. Callie can cook, you know? Izzie can bake, which is really just measuring shit into the bowl, but Callie? She can *cook* real food and that morning she made everything that comfort food should be.
And she gave me space. She let me breathe that day, but she stayed close enough to me ... to all of us ... that she was the first one there when we needed someone to hug ... or tissue. She made me *laugh* while I was crying and she somehow knew what I needed before I could ask. We had sex ... and it was the best sex I’ve ever had. It wasn’t the same for her and I knew it ... I knew that I was using her, hurting her, but she loved me enough to roll with it.
Our other best sex was in Vegas after we got married. I had a *wife*. A very hot, very gorgeous wife who went into the bathroom in her jeans and came out in a silky red lingerie thing that ... god, it was nice. I mean ... thigh highs, garter belts, and so much cleavage I almost fell off the balcony when I saw her. She - she cried when we made love that night. I did, too. No, no ... it wasn’t regret. It was knowing that for the rest of my life ... I had a partner.
Why am I telling you this?
Hell, Joe, look at her.
Meredith told me that she’s been coming here a lot and I kinda expected her to be crying into her beer or something, but ... she’s dancing like *that* with *him* and she hasn’t looked my way once.
No, Joe! I don’t want her to be miserable! I just want ... I want ... her.
I want *her*.
I had her and I exchanged her for what I thought was the better ... model. You’re right ... it’s superficial.
Look at her.
I made her feel like she wasn’t beautiful. She’s not blond, but she is stacked. Callie O’Malley is *stacked*. Look at her hips ... hips like that ... they’re good hips. God ... shit ... look at the way he’s touching her. Do you think they’re sleeping together? No, don’t answer that. Has she been meeting him here? She has? And they ... do they dance like that every night?
I hate my life.
She is the reason I repeated my intern year. No, no, she didn't make me fail the exam. She gave me a pep talk every day for seventeen days. She told me that she was *proud* of me and that test scores were not an indicator of the doctor I was. She tried to blame herself and I actually let her ... when she was getting ready to be Chief Resident ... I was so pissed at her success that I told her it was her fault. She gave Cristina the cards instead of me ... the flash cards ... and the second I said it she started to cry and I ... I let her. I actually felt *good* about hurting her because here she was ... succeeding in everything and I was failing.
She got fired as Chief Resident and she never once blamed me. I went and told her I was sorry and she just shrugged her shoulders and said that it was never hers to begin with. Izzie would never do that. Izzie never, ever accepts responsibility. I mean, she cut the LVAD and whined for *months* because the hospital put her on probation. Izzie starts every sentence with 'I' and ends it with 'me'. She'd never just gracefully bow out of anything. Callie's graceful. And mature. And ... shit, she can dance.
Look at her tits. They’re firm, but soft. And they jiggle around in a way that makes you salivate like a starving dog when she’s on top. And inventive?! Good god, she’s inventive. She’s got the kind of legs that were made for bending and wrapping and ... Izzie? She’s gangly and stiff all over. Her legs *try* to move the way Callie’s do and ... no. Just ... no.
I never should have compared them.
There is no comparison. Callie wins hands down.
Not only is she dirty and sexy and hot ... she’s also the kind of woman who says she’s letting you go ... and actually *means* it. Izzie told me she was letting me go the night I asked Callie to marry me and I believed her. I believed that she could be good to Callie and get to know her. I believed that the *good* that I saw in Izzie would prevail, but it just made it worse. She was cruel to the only woman who ever loved me exactly like I am and I let her do it. I let Izzie abuse her and ... I even joined in sometimes.
Callie let me go. She let go and I feel like a kite with no string. I feel like a -
Oh my god.
Did she just kiss him?
I can’t look.
Mark Sloan doesn’t deserve her either.
But I guess the best man won, huh?
You ... uh ... weren’t really supposed to answer that.