"That wasn't a very good idea, was it?"
W/ your Greys OC ❤️
"That wasn’t a very good idea, was it?”
You grimaced, standing stock still as shattered glass surrounded your bare feet, a family photo laying pitifully a way off. “What wasn’t a good idea?” you ground out.
Alex snorted, shutting the front door behind him as he walked in. “Trying to cover that big ass hole with a photo frame. You think your dad and Mer wouldn’t have noticed?” He gestured wildly towards the glass. “Now look at what you did.”
“Me? You frightened me when you opened the door!” you shot back.
“Yeah, yeah. Say what you—hey, hey! Don’t you move. Your dad barely persuaded me to come here on my first night off in weeks to babysit. Like hell am I gonna spend it stitching you up because you stepped on glass.”
Your leg paused in mid air, your foot seconds from touching a bit of the wooden floor you thought might be free of broken shards. Alex walked towards you, the glass crunching under his boots. He turned his back on you once he reached you, bending slightly and beckoning with his hands, to which you replied with a roll of your eyes. Despite it, you jumped onto his back and he carried you away from the danger-zone to inelegantly dump you on the couch.
“Where’re the little ones?” he asked, rounding the kitchen counter to grab the sweeping brush.
You folded your legs beneath you, wiping the bottoms of your feet just in case. “I put them to sleep, like, ten minutes ago,” you said. “I’m surprised Zola’s still awake after that smash.”
Alex clicked his tongue. “Don’t say that. You’ll jinx it.” He jerked his thumb at the hole in the wall. “How’d you do it?”
Once again, you grimaced. “Playing with a tennis ball. Bailey finds it hilarious.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t think anyone’ll be laughing at it later.”
“I’ll just tell Dad he should’ve made the walls stronger when he built the house.”
Alex scoffed, sweeping the glass into a pile. “Let me be here when you use that excuse. Seriously, please.”
You looked as though you might have shot a retort back, something snarky that would have sent the two of you into an entirely equal verbal battle of wit, but at the last minute you seemed to visibly deflate, all vigour and fighting spirit leaking from your depleted form. Alex noticed and stopped in his sweeping for a moment to look expectantly at you. You glanced up, biting the inside of your cheek.
“Will you help me cover it up?” you asked undecidedly.
“Hey, I’m a surgeon, not a plasterer,” Alex argued, pointing a finger at you. “I’m not here to do anything other than raid your dad’s wine cupboard and look after the little mites. You cover it up.”
You drew your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. You had an uncanny ability to look especially younger than you were, something that unknowingly aided you in getting your way most, if not all, times. Unsurprisingly you were far less successful with those who knew you, not that you were ever consciously using it in an attempt to get what you wanted. Though Alex was as immune as Derek and Meredith, it seemed the hours he’d been working with sick children just before arriving here had softened him somewhat.
Rolling his eyes to himself, he finished cleaning up the glass before glancing around the room for a moment.
“Any spare picture frames around here, Y/N?”
Grey's Masterpost
send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five
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