Pillow Talk

Pairings: Gizzie (George/Izzie)

Rating: T for language, implied sex and nudity.

Warnings: FLUFF!

A.N: Does Izzie have a tattoo? Hell if I know. For the purposes of this story she does, 'kay?

He's pretty sure she's aware he's watching her, something in her mannerisms tells him that she can feel his gaze on her back, tracing patterns into the pale skin with his eyes.

"See something you like, O'Mally?" She questions, shifting in her position on the edge of the bed. The sheet covering her lower body shifts along with her, and George's regard slips down to her lower back. He grins lopsidedly.

"You never told me you had a tattoo." He states from where he is lying on his stomach facing her back, "Woodstock?"

"I loved Peanuts when I was a teenager." She defends, glancing over her shoulder to the yellow bird inked onto her skin "I was eighteen, okay? I'm not accountable for my actions back then." Izzie reaches for the hairbrush lying on the ground next to her feet as she says this and picks it up, beginning to pull it through her messy locks.

She hurries to finish with her hair, while George is lethargic and in no great rush to go anyplace (especially not work) but here. He doesn't move, or speak, just looks at the tattoo and touches it as if he can feel the tawny ink against his skin.

"Weirdo." She mumbles, moving to stand up and fetch her clothes. She doesn't get very far, however, before he grabs her arm and pulls her down on the bed. She lands flat on her back beside him, brush clenched in her hand as she turns her head to regard his face "What?" She drawls, sleep still clinging to her words.

There's a comfortable silence in which they look at each other with gazes that are not so much structured with adoration, but amazement.

"The walls." George finally says.

"What about them?"

"They're white."


"How many years have these walls been white?"

"Um...since the house was built, I think?"


"Exactly what?"

"Exactly, the walls have been white since prehistoric times."

"I don't get where you're going with this."

"Don't you think it's time for change?"

"We'redoctors, George. We don't have time for change. Change is at the bottom of our things to do list right under 'build world's largest roller coaster' and 'move to Puerto Rico'"

"But painting, it's not that big of a change."

"If these walls have been white since prehistoric times, then yes, it is that big of a change."

"But we haven't been here since prehistoric times."

"Yes, give it a few months and then we can talk about paint."

"I have the strangest feeling of roll reversal."

"Don't I know it."

"Please, Izz? You won't have to do a thing, I swear."

"Fine. Paint our prehistoric walls."

"Okay, I will."

"Great. I'm glad we had this talk." Izzie moves to get up again, only to have George pull back down on her arm "What?"

"The comforters."

"What about them?"

"They're white, too."

"And your point being...?"

"It's time for a change."

"What did I just say about change?"

"Face it Izz, change is moving up on the roster. It's now right above 'need milk' and 'Dinner at MerDer's tonight'"

"Fine. Buy new comforters. But tell change to go fuck itself, because it is not touching my carpets, hear me?" She says with finality, lurching to roll off before he stops her again "Dare I ask?"

"That lamp."

"No,no, you do not touch Ezekiel!"


"Yes. I like that lamp. That lamp has given me two years of great memories. That lamp was 25 percent off, and I named that lamp Ezekiel after my great uncle!"

"...kay. We won't touch the la- Ezekiel."

"Good." She cautiously moves to the beauro where her clothes are, not at all surprised when she lands right next to him. "What?"

He smiles softly, then kisses her affectionately "just thought I'd say goodbye." Izzie can't help but grin back as they get dressed and ready for work. She's by the exit before he's even got his clothes on.

"Iz?" George calls, she turns to face him "I'll have the swatches ready by the time we get home."

She rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her.