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George sits on the ledge outside the hospital. He kicks his feet back against the wall, and forward to hit his yellow suitcase sitting below him. He lowers his head when people walk by, keeping his face away from view. The girl who fixed his dislocated shoulder walks by, trying to see if he’s who she thinks he is, but his face is turned down, away, and she walks the other direction. He doesn’t know where he’s going to go. Doesn’t care enough to think that far ahead.
He see’s Alex standing by the main entrance, looking over at him. George doesn’t duck away. He watches as Alex walks over, putting his backpack on the floor by George’s feet before hopping up on the wall beside him.
They sit in silence for a moment. Alex looking up at the stars and George; down at the ground. “Let’s play who’s life is worse.”
George laughs and it’s a nice noise. His nose crinkles and his shoulder’s hunch. He looks over at Alex, a wide smile pulling pretty on his lips. “Okay.”
Alex goes first, leaning into his shoulder. “I got stood up,” he admits breathily, “for a patient she’s only met twice.”
George half laughs, as if he knows he has him beat. “I left my house because my roommate cried when we had sex.”
Alex’s mouth falls open, turning to face him. “You win.” He says as he starts to laugh. George hits him in the arm, but joins in. They laugh for a few moments, enjoying each other’s company. They've really never been friends, really just acquaintances. At the beginning of their internship it seemed like they wanted to be friends, but the only thing they had in common was the fact that they were the only men on Dr. Bailey’s team. They were so different, but somehow Alex liked that in him.
“So…” Alex starts, swinging his feet against the wall. “Where ya’ gonna stay? Tonight, at least.”
George looks at his luggage. He tips his head. “How long do you think I can sleep in the on-call room until they kick me out?”
Alex looks over at him, bumps they’re shoulders. “You can stay at my place tonight… I’ve got liquor.”
The look the kid gives him is precious. His eyes are wide, a smile tugging on his lips. The light from the window behind them lights his face, warms his skin in yellow light. He’s pretty, with his curly hair and big blue eyes. “Really?” He asks in almost disbelief.
Alex can’t take his eyes away. “Yes really.”
“I thought you didn’t like me…” Admits George, eyes still meeting Alex’s, still bright.
Alex rolls his eyes. “If I didn’t like you I wouldn’t be inviting you over, would I?”
George thinks on it for a moment, head looking forward so Alex can watch his profile. He gets why they call him baby boy, because he’s got these dashing boyish features. Pale skin that blushes so pretty, too wide eyes, full lips. He looks younger than he is, and Alex is somehow drawn to it. “Plus… I don’t wanna be alone.”
George makes a sweep with his eyes, looking from Alex’s chest to his eyes. “Me neither.” He looks over at him, smiles and nods, before hopping off the wall and reaching to pull Alex down with him. He picks up his suit case and waits for Alex to pull on his backpack. They walk side by side all the way to Alex’s car.
His apartment is just down the road from the hospital. They only listen to one song on the radio before they’re pulling into his parking spot. He lives on the second floor, so they climb the stairs together until they make it to his room.
Alex takes a big breath before swinging the door open. George steps into his small, studio apartment, looking around at all four walls. The bed is pushed to one corner, a couch and a tv on the right wall and a half kitchen on the left. There’s potted plants awkwardly thrown on every available surface, paintings hung crooked, a piano at the end of his bed.
“It’s a mess, don’t comment on it.” Alex says, pushing through the door to get to the fridge.
“No. It’s nice.” George says, toeing off his shoes. He puts his suit case on the floor by the couch. “Do you play?”
“Hm?” Alex responds, spinning around with a bottle of vodka in hand. George points to the piano. “Oh. Uh, no. It was my brothers.”
George hums. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“You don’t know a lot of things.” Alex tells him with a wink as he pours two shots.
“I’d like to.” He says, taking a glass. “Know things… about you.”
“You have to sleep with me first.” Alex teases, clinking his glass against George’s before throwing it back.
George drinks. “Oh, is that all?”
Alex laughs at him as he pours another shot. “Since girls suck.” He says as he clinks with George.
“To boys.” He salutes.
“To boys.” Alex agrees. They drink.
Alex can't help but watch the back of the couch where George is laying. A thin blanket thrown over him and a basketball game on the tv. He feels more alone with him so far away than he would have if he wasn't here at all. "George? You awake?"
He is, and he groans and rolls over to look at him over the arm of the couch. "Did you know, I'm a surgical intern, these are the only hours of sleep I can get... like ever."
Alex laughs. Smile warming George from within. It takes him a second to retort, tasting the words before he says them, "come lay with me."
Oh, and George doesn't have to be told twice. Cold couch versus warm bed with Alex Karev sleeping in it. It's not a hard decision. He slowly rises, dragging his blanket with him as he walks. He crawls into the left side. Alex pushes at the blankets so he can fit beside him. George is lonely, and needy and drunk. So he fits himself alone Alex’s side, head on his shoulder, breathing him in.
Alex is instantly in love. More so then he was.
“What is it, Bambi?” Alex asks, smirking as he runs a hand down his back. "Hm? What do you need?"
George curls against him, snuggling into his shoulder.
“You." He murmurs against his skin.
“What?” Alex asks, serious this time. George leans up on an elbow.
“It doesn't have to mean anything...” George whispers, mouth way too close and way to pretty. Alex pushes a hair through his curls, looking down at him in wonder.
“Izzie…”
“Is probably fucking that patient.” George states, throwing Alex for a loop. “Meredith probably doesn’t care that I planned to spend the night sleeping outside the hospital.”
It only takes a moment to click in , and then Alex pushes him, up off his chest. Alex needs this. George does too. They deserve this. He breathes heavy, arm going behind his head to pull off his shirt. Alex’s hands are everywhere, pulling him closer, petting down his chest. George straddles his thighs, pulling impatiently at the man under him, trying to get his shirt off. Alex slips it over his head, throwing it somewhere near the couch. George pins his shoulder’s down, leaning down to press a kiss at the base of his throat. Alex bucks, arms reaching up to flip him over on his back.
“If we’re doing this,” he growls, “we’re doing it my way.”
He kisses George’s forehead, his eyelids, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, before finally kissing his lips. George sighs into it, head falling into the pillows. He whines when they break away.
Alex kisses the bolt of his jaw, pushing his hands through his curls. Kisses his throat, his collar bone, sucks a hickey into the space behind his ear like they're teenagers. George is smiling, bucking up into him, begging for attention. Alex takes his time, tonguing at his nipples before kissing down his chest. From between his pecks straight down to his navel, his warm lips make their way down.
Panting, George arches into his mouth as Alex pops the button on his jeans. He kicks his feet, trying to encourage him to pull them off. He does, leaning up to smirk at the younger man. He pulls them off his feet and throws them behind him somewhere. He leans down and presses a kiss to his inner thigh.
George bucks. “Oh, Alex. Please.”
“Please what, baby boy?” The nickname escaping easily, George moans when he hears it.
“Touch me.”
He chuckles, finally moving to pull off George’s black boxers. He stares for a moment, letting his finger’s dance along his length. George’s got his hands on Alex’s head, pulling the short hairs, urging him on. Instead, Alex mouths at his inner thigh, pressing and pulling at the skin until it’s purple.
He returns to George’s cock, standing high in front of his face. He licks a stripe up from base to tip, making George groan above him. He moan’s his name, a few please’s, and Alex gives in. He mouth’s at the tip, before taking him down his throat. George arches, hips bucking up and probably choking Alex if it weren't for the hands keeping them down, keeping them still so Alex can do his worst.
He begs, trying to thrust up into his heat, Alex doesn’t give it to him. He has his way with him, easily licking and pulling at his length with his hand, other hand shoved down his boxers after hearing George moan like that.
George cries out, and it’s a little too loud for the neighbours, so Alex reaches up and puts his fingers in his mouth. George shivers, licking around the digits as he shakes. It only takes another moment before George is done for. Alex takes him into his throat and George yells a “fuck!” in warning so Alex can pop off. He comes over his stomach, and Alex comes in his boxers and he doesn’t even care. That was the hottest thing he’s ever seen, and he tells him that.
George smiles, panting above him. Alex crawls up his body to kiss his mouth, and his jaw, and his cheeks. George hum’s quietly at the attention.
“You feel better?” He whispers, kissing the edge of his mouth.
“Hmm, yeah.” George responds, nuzzling against him. Alex pulls off him to get a cloth and wipe them down. George whines when he pulls his boxers back on, but he just kisses his navel to make him happy.
Alex pulls him up to lay on his chest. He curls around him, arms and legs winding, his head on his chest. They lie quiet, for a moment or two.
“There’s not gonna be a next time, is there.” George whispers into his chest; hardly a question, more an observation.
Alex sighs. “I have a girlfriend.” George leans up on his elbow. He nods, kisses his mouth, and goes back to lay down.
Alex rubs his back, holds him close, but tomorrow, they won’t even be friends anymore. And it breaks his heart.
"So tell me... about you."
Alex laughs, it's so like George to take him up on the sex-then-personal-info deal he made earlier. He turns on his chest to face him, and Alex strokes a hand down his cheek. "What do you want to know?"
George hums. "What's your brothers name?"
It takes him a moment to answer. He's busy looking down at George, gone somewhere other then here. "Aaron." he answers. "And I have a sister, Amber."
The soft smile on Georges face is everything to him. He'll tell him anything he wants to know as long as he keeps smiling like that.
"Where are they now?" He asks, petting Alex's chest.
He takes a breath, admits, "Amber has her own little apartment in Iowa. And Aaron..."
George's eyes are bright and kind. Accepting and open. "Aaron is in an institution."
George (bless his heart) doesn't look as shocked as he feels. He just looks down at the edge of the pillow, easily waiting for him to continue. He doesn't.
George kisses his chest, right above his heart. He wants to remind him that he is not his past. He's not whatever happened to him. Wants to tell him he's loved and protected and will be forever on.
"He's schizophrenic. Gets it from my mother." He tells him, running his fingers down George's spine. He holds his hip, pets along his lower spine and up to the top knob of his back. There's a pretty, purple bruise on George's hip from Alex's thumb, a hickey on his inner thigh and one on the bolt of his jaw. He's gorgeous. Marked.
"My mother," he starts, feeling lost with the weight of his past and the comfort of George on his chest. "She was ill my whole childhood. My dad... was a bad man. He was a drunk, used his fists to fight. I joined wrestling to defend myself and my mother, and once I confronted him.... He never came back."
Once he starts, he can't stop. Doesn't want too. Wants someone to know why he's an asshole. Wants someone to defend him.
"We were taken from her when I was thirteen. Aaron was, what, ten? Amber was real little, seven I think." He starts, eyes up like so he doesn't have to look at George's soft face. "they stayed with this nice family, white people, white picket fence, a golden retriever and that shit. And I went through 17 foster homes, and five years before I was placed with them."
George stops him. He kisses him on the mouth, moans against him. Alex sighs, threads his fingers into George's hair, tugs. George breaks away. Calms him by running a finger over his lip. "You're not your past." He tells him. "You took everything bad that happened and turned it to something good. You're a doctor now. Not a foster kid."
Alex sighs. Smiles. He rolls over, pushes George with him. They laugh together, Alex pressing kisses against his throat. "God." He whispers. "You're so beautiful."
George ducks away. Alex doesn't say "beautiful." He calls Izzie hot. Not beautiful. No, beautiful feels like something just for him.
He lets Alex lay on his chest, curls into him like this is a new home. They've built each other this place. This little haven. Safe and warm together, they sleep.