George O'Malley

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Whovian3135 There you are, my dear! Hope this helps cheer you up!!!

You knew George was home the moment you walked through the door. The shower was on and you could feel the hot steam through the cracks of the bathroom door. You set your things down and got ready a cup of his favorite drink before setting it on his bedside table. You were glad you knew the little things he liked when he had a bad day. But you hated that you learned them after months of finding him coming home in emotional shambles.

The two of you weren't dating, just roommates working at the same hospital. He was an intern and you were a nanny for some the kids that belonged to the staff. After what you heard he was going through with his old housing arrangement you opened your small two room apartment up to him. He was shy at first and assumed you would want him out sooner than later but after finding out you suffered from anxiety that gave you the worst nightmares that soon lessened as he stayed, he decided to stay, "for medical reasons".

But soon you found out that you weren't the only one in need of a stable roommate. You were suddenly aware of how poorly the other staff members treated him, hearing the stories he would tell, despite him trying to downplay them or pass them off as "normal behavior". You grew to care for him and almost told him to quit once Callie started to make him feel worse.

It was only when George came home one night, stone drunk and crying that you got to hear his true feelings and how poorly he was treated. From then on you vowed to do what you could at home to make him feel better. You thought him finally getting a divorce from Callie would make him feel better. Three months later and he's steaming the bathroom again. So you took that as a no.

You were in the office when you heard the bathroom door open and close, his soft bare feet echoing through the hall as he went to his room. You heard his door shut and you ventured out, using the bathroom yourself. After doing your business you got to work picking up the place, not minding the messes he makes from time to time. If he can hold you while you rock from side to side, crying and screaming, you can handle picking up some of his dirty clothes and misplaced shoes.

Content with the cleanliness of the bathroom and the rest of the place, you got to work making a small late night snack. You weren't exactly sure what his favorite food was so you just made something not many people don't like: brownies.

George sat on the edge of his bed, his head resting in his hands as he tried to keep his tears back. He couldn't help it; he missed Callie, he missed his father, and he missed the feeling of actually being excited to go to work. He was tired and he was emotionally spent. He was thinking about just picking up and moving, running off to start over with a better chance at happiness.

The sound of your voice from the kitchen, humming a song, gave him pause. Lifting his head, he looked to the side and spied a glass of his favorite drink. He let a small smile surface as he reached for it and took a sip. He put the glass down and flopped onto the bed, laying on his stomach, his arms crossed under his chin. George became lost in his mind as he thought of you.

You always knew what to do and say to help him, even when he wouldn't outright say he needed any help. He felt at ease with you, and he found himself looking forward to days off and short shifts. Not because he disliked the people at work but because he wanted to be home. With you.

But since his luck with women has been lacking as of late, he dared not let his heart fall or his mind dream. George closed his eyes and a tear fell. He wasn't sure if he had it in him to face his co-workers and their degrading words and to come home to a woman he could never have. Perhaps leaving would be wise. Another tear fell.

You smiled at yourself as you set the finally cooled brownies in a pyramid on a small plate, all ready to eat. You walked up to his bedroom door and stood there, leaning in as you knocked lightly.

"George? Are you awake?"

You waited a few moments but didn't hear anything. You knocked again.


Carefully you opened the door, planning to leave him the plate for a nice morning surprise. As well as turning off his alarm. You didn't care what he had to do tomorrow, he needed a day off. You walked quietly up to him, his back rising and falling as he slept. You peered at his face and smiled; he looked so peaceful, so calm, so sweet. You quickly placed the plate next to his drink where you saw he took a sip. At least he has an appetite.

You turned to leave but glanced down at him one more time. The scar on his cheek was visible in the dim light of his lamp. You couldn't help it. You knelt down by his face, reached up and stroked his cheek, your thumb tracing over his scar. You stayed there for a few minutes just stroking his cheek and brow, your eyes searching his face. You wanted to remember what he looked like at ease so that you could help him one day remain that way.

You gave him a small sad smile before standing. But you were stopped. George, with his eyes still closed, placed a hand over yours still gently pressed to his cheek. You knelt down again, stroking his cheek again.

"Sorry to wake you. I just wanted to check on you."

George smiled, peeking his eyes open just a bit. "It's alright. I was just resting." His voice was raspy and deep. It gave you goosebumps of the good sort.

You grinned. "Keep resting. You work hard enough to earn it." You winked, ready to stand.

When George first opened his eyes he thought he had died and gone to heaven. Your touch and your smile greeting him made him involuntarily wonder how it would be to wake every morning that way. But as you left to stand the second time, his body moved without the consent of his mind.

He sat up and you stopped, sitting up on your knees. You held your breath as George reached out and took your face, his eyes flashing from your eyes to your lips and back. With a gentle tug, he pulled you to him, his lips pressing against yours. Your heart exploded with surprise and your eyes closed with pleasure.

But it was over as soon as it began.

You opened your eyes and George grimaced shyly, backing away and dropping his hand.

"Sorry. I-I don't know where that came from," George whispered as he dared a glance.

You met his gaze and your reply died on your lips. Tears brimmed in his eyes and your heart ached as he glanced away again. You moved to sit between him and the headboard, your heart and mind calming after the sudden show of affection. You took his hand in yours and nudged him gently.

"I would like to think I'm not that bad of a kisser to make a grown man cry."

George let out a small laugh, but he quickly sobered. Your own smile fell as you stroked his hand. You glanced at him and you wished you hadn't. He looked so sad, so broken, so tired. So you let go of his hands and reached out, pulling him to you as you leaned against the headboard.

You stroked his hair softly and cooed, "I'm here, George. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."

At your words, George let his tears fall. His body shook and he reached around your middle, holding you weakly. You held his head to your chest as you rubbed his back with your other hand. You don't now how long you both sat like that but you didn't mind. Soon enough, his tears stopped and George adjusted so he was holding you a bit more closely. You loved the feel of his arms around you just as much as he loved the feel of you in them.

Goerge didn't tell you why he as so upset and you had no need to ask. You both knew each other well enough that words were not always needed. So there you both sat and soon fell asleep, held in each other's arms well into the next morning. For the first time in a while, George felt well rested and his heart never felt so light.

He peered down at your sleeping face resting on his arm. He smiled, leaning down and kissing your brow. The light of the morning seeped through the windows and the morning songs of the birds flew through the walls. Closing his eyes he held you close and for once looked forward to reality more than his dreams.

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