“That was funny the first time you called me on rounds, Mom,” Cristina says tiredly. “Now it’s not.”
“Do you have anything better to do? Now that you lost your man, you have more time to call your mother,” her mother says.
“I’m hanging up,” Cristina says, and does.
Meredith is suddenly framed in the doorway to Cristina’s bedroom, in a ridiculously skimpy little tank top and a pair of panties. She has a glass of iced tea in each hand.
“Was that your mother again?” she asks.
“It’s raining in Los Angeles,” Cristina says. “In August.”
“So?” asks Meredith, padding into the room on bare feet and handing Cristina her glass of tea, which Cristina presses against her forehead and upper arm.
“So it never rains in August in LA,” Cristina replies with a shrug. “If I wanted to talk to my mother, it would definitely be a conversation starter. Things are probably flooding, the 405 is probably backed up from Irvine to the Valley, that sort of thing.”
Meredith rolls her eyes, because Meredith does not understand the conversational potential of LA traffic. Cristina had, in previous times, managed to deflect her mother, stepfather, former classmates, and former boyfriends by asking about how the 5 was through Norwich the last time they drove it. Or the 101/110 split. Or…the point is, Meredith doesn’t get it.
However, Meredith is like, sitting cross-legged on Cristina’s bed that was once the bed she shared with Burke.
Burke who is gone. And never coming back. And the thing is, it’s not even really because of Cristina. It’s because he didn’t get Chief. He’d never admit that, he’d say it was due to both factors, but Cristina knows him better than he thinks.
He’s Preston Burke. He doesn’t lose like that and come back from it.
Anyway, Meredith is sitting on Cristina’s bed that was formerly supposed to be her bed of marital bliss, and she’s wearing tiny panties, and she shaved her legs today.
This is acceptable. This works for Cristina.
“Honestly,” Meredith complains. “I’d rather get a monsoon than the damn heat. I feel like I keep sticking to things.”
“With monsoons, you get the heat and the rain,” Cristina points out with the mastery of trivial knowledge that made her the delight of her college trivia team and the most annoying person in any lecture course. “So you’d rather be in the jungle than hot?”
“It’s jungle-hot now,” Meredith says, sticking her glass of tea on the bedside table and leaning back against the pillows dramatically. She doesn’t use a coaster.
Burke always used coasters. He never said anything — he wouldn’t — but after a while, Cristina did it too. And now she notices. And she hates it.
Meredith sighs. “I hate hot weather,” she repeats. “I wish I were an ice cube.”
“You’d melt,” Cristina says.
“But I’d be cool while I was melting,” Meredith says. “The only time I want to be hot and sticky is if I’m getting fucked.”
Cristina cackles. “So if I was fucking you, right now, you’d shut up about how fucking hot it is?” she asked.
“If you were fucking me, I’d be kind of confused,” Meredith says. “Because I don’t know, it seems like life is crappy enough right now without an incipient sexuality thing.”
Cristina considers this, sucking down yet more iced tea. It’s pretty good tea. “We could say these were Long Island Iced Teas, and that it was a drunken accident caused by heat,” she answers.
“Do you even have the ingredients for Long Island Iced Tea in your apartment?” Meredith asks, rolling her head back and forth. “Last I checked, you just had tequila and Chivas.”
“Okay, so it’s Mexican Tea, shut up, I’m thinking up plausible hypotheticals,” Cristina replies, feeling the condensation on the glass roll down the back of her hand. “I’m just saying, if we were drunk on tequila and I was fucking you, would you or would you not be fucking bitching about how hot it is?”
Meredith purses her lips and furrows her brow while Cristina sets her empty glass on the floor, after quietly and stealthily retrieving two ice cubes from it.
“No, I don’t think I’d be bitching,” she says. “But I don’t think we’d be having drunk sex. I respect you too much to make you one of my tequila lays.”
Cristina chokes on her laughter, which comes out through her nose. “Your tequila lays? Jesus, Mer, you really are a hooker when you’re wasted, aren’t you?”
“I’m a complete whore,” Meredith replies with a shrug. “I’ve accepted it. My tequila lays are usually the bottom of the barrel, too. The only ones that are worse are like, the ones I’d get on after too many girly drinks.”
She can barely keep a straight face, listening to Meredith’s monologue of drunken whore antics. “Girly drinks are the work of Satan,” Cristina manages to say, shimmying up the bed.
“They are! People say they’re not, but I know better,” Meredith says, putting a hand on her chest. “My hand to God.”
“Meredith?” Cristina asks, very solemn.
“What?” Meredith asks, looking nervous.
“That,” Cristina replies, putting the ice cubes down the front of Meredith’s tank top.
Meredith screams. “Oh my God!” she shrieks, immediately jumping toward Cristina. “I’m gonna…oh, you are such a bitch…”
“You were saying you were hot!” Cristina says, laughing so hard she can barely breath. “Oh my God, look at your nipples much?”
“Oh, hi, I’m glad my wet t-shirt contest entertains you!” Meredith replies. She is also laughing, and wrestling Cristina like crazy. “You suck! You are a sneaky devil type person, and now I have wet ice cube trails and ha. Now there’s gonna be a wet spot on your sheets. And I will make you sleep in it after we fuck.”
“I thought that would be confusing,” Cristina replies, forcing Meredith’s arms back as they continue to wrestle. She feels one of the ice cubes under her thigh.
“We’re talking hypothetically,” Meredith says with a shrug. “If we were to fuck to shut me up about how hot it goddamn is, and it’s fucking hot, Cristina…”
“Yeah, I know, you TOLD me,” Cristina says, noticing the struggling has gotten less energetic and slower.
“Well, okay, like I was saying, we’ve been drinking a fuckload of Long Island Iced Teas. So many that we stuck all the bottles in recycling already, and I’m hot and you’re like, fine, I will make it the fun kind of hot–” Meredith says.
“I’d never say that,” Cristina says snarkily. “I’d say, ‘yeah, yeah, you’re sticky. I bet you’d be stickier if I did this–‘” and Cristina rubs the meat of her thumb over the damp spot on Meredith’s tank top.
“Okay, and then I’d say, um, I don’t like to talk that much during sex. I’d probably do something like this,” Meredith replies, throwing one leg over Cristina’s.
“Doesn’t that just make you hotter?” Cristina asks.
“Yeah,” Meredith says, her breath coming shorter. “I’m real hot right now.”
“You’re totally fucking drunk, I’d say,” says Cristina, taking her index finger and rolling the hard point of Meredith’s nipple between it and her thumb.
“Yeah-huh,” Meredith agrees, leaning forward and sucking on Cristina’s chin.
Seriously. Her chin. Which is such a drunk Meredith thing to do that Cristina’s almost sure that Meredith has magically gotten herself drunk on the non-existent Long Island Iced Teas that they were drinking.
“That’s my chin,” says Cristina. Well, kind of says, because Meredith is trying to French her chin. “Your tongue goes here, you drunk slut.”
She tilts her head down and opens her mouth and lets Meredith’s eager little tongue slip into her mouth. God, it’s fucking nasty in here. Cristina’s thigh is really kind of hot with Meredith’s thigh on it and her shirt and boxer shorts (also former property of Burke) are sticking to her skin and riding up.
She pulls back and Meredith pouts. No, seriously, maybe Cristina’s iced tea was the virgin, this is how bizarrely into it Meredith seems.
“Okay, you’re making my clothes all nasty and sticky,” she says to Meredith. “So I’d totally ask you right now if I could skip some of the formalities and strip because I itch like crazy when I’m sweaty in clothes.”
Meredith strips off her clothes. Seriously, it takes her two seconds. Cristina has never seen anyone undress that fast. “I’d say, you’re still dressed. What are you, chicken?” she asks.
“And I’d say I’m not chicken, but if I was going to fuck you, I’d want to know that you’re not going to freak out on me. You could just use my shower if you’re that hot, Meredith,” Cristina says, hands on the hem of her shirt.
“If I use the shower, I’m just going to fuck myself,” says Meredith, who is still really naked. “I don’t need a gentleman right now, Cristina. I just told Derek we’re over, and I need to come until I can’t see.”
Okay, not drunk, just doing Meredith rebound. “You gonna freak out tomorrow?” Cristina asks.
“No, because this didn’t really happen. Because we’re not drunk and I’m not pissed and really, really hot,” Meredith says urgently. “Well, I’m really…”
Cristina takes her clothes off. If she has to hear about how hot Meredith is again, she will smother Meredith with the goose-down pillows Burke left her as his good luck and fuck off gift, like the rest of the apartment.
“You’re so drunk,” says Cristina, running her hands over her stomach. “And I’m so tired of hearing how hot you are.”
Meredith smirks. “But I’m sticky. I hate being sticky,” she whines as she reaches out for Cristina. “You made my stomach all sticky with those damn ice cubes that are melting all over your bed.”
Cristina makes a face. “I’m just as sweaty as you are, and you’re not even the stickiest on your flat, in-curved stomach, whatever,” she says, rolling onto her side and facing Meredith.
“Nuh-uh,” Meredith says, putting her hand on Cristina’s breast. “Your boobs are totally less sweaty than mine.”
“Not for long,” Cristina growls bitterly.
Meredith shimmies closer, and suddenly their bodies are touching, skin-to-skin, naked-to-naked, and that feels. Okay. That feels not really weird.
“You talk too much,” Meredith whines, her breasts brushing Cristina’s, her thigh once again slung over one of Cristina’s. “Tease.”
Cristina puts her fingers on Meredith’s back, which is kind of sweaty. She adjusts her legs awkwardly, until their legs are twined around each other’s.
“You are really really naked,” says Cristina, giggling suddenly.
“I know. So are you,” Meredith says. “We are so fucking wasted right now. But I don’t really care. Because I want to stick my tongue down your throat again.”
“Okay,” Cristina says, opening her mouth to meet Meredith’s. It’s a total rush, because Meredith’s hands are in her hair, and Cristina’s arms are around Meredith’s back and shoulders, pulling them close, so their skin is sliding against each other, getting sweaty and slick. Meredith is trying to suck Cristina’s fillings out.
Cristina is really, really sweaty, but it feels good, and she starts to rub closer against Meredith. Their thighs are heavy and sticky and starting to itch Cristina, so she moves her outer thigh, up and up.
“Oh, yeah,” Meredith whimpers, coming up for air. “Oh, yeah.”
She pushes them, rolling them so that Cristina’s on her back, and then Meredith’s like, straddling Cristina, pushing down with all of her weight. Which isn’t much because Mer’s teeny, but there’s this warm, slippery weight rubbing up on Cristina, and Cristina’s body is responding.
Fuck, it’s responding. Her tits feel like, a size bigger and achey.
“Come here,” Cristina says, pulling Meredith down and squeezing each of Meredith’s breasts hungrily. “I wanna feel you against me.”
“I’m so hot,” Meredith moans, trying to grind against Cristina. “You’re pretty. You feel all nice, too. Sweaty-good.”
Cristina angles a thigh up, and Meredith, who is totally opportunistic and aware when super-horny, immediately shifts to move against it.
Oh, fuck her, oh god, Meredith is even hotter there, sticky and wet. “Are you hot there?” Cristina asks.
“Yeah,” Meredith answers, leaning down to start sucking on Cristina’s neck and collarbone. “I was just playing, right, but I wanna….want more. Wanna touch those.”
She puts a hand on Cristina’s tit and Cristina arches up so that Meredith does it more. “Keep playing,” she says. “I like that. I want you to play with me.”
Meredith’s tongue sweeps over a sweet spot on Cristina’s shoulder, and starts kneading her breast, all the while, grinding her pussy against Cristina’s thigh.
Cristina’s got one hand on the small of Mer’s back, but she’s getting hotter, crazier, and so her other hand reaches forward and down, finding Meredith’s clit pretty easily.
Meredith moans and starts rocking hard, back and forth and slippery. “Oh, that’s good. Oh, fuck yes, that’s good, that’s where I like it, right there.”
“Right there,” Cristina says. “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.”
It’s hot as hell, because Meredith’s arched up, tits pushed up as she rocks and rocks, clearly focused on getting off as she balances, tongue wetting her mouth.
“That’s real good,” Meredith says. “Oh, that’s good, that’s good, rub it faster, I’m fucking hot all over.”
“I’ll rub it faster if you feel yourself,” Cristina offers, and immediately Meredith’s got her hands on her tits, eyes half-closed in horny bliss as she grinds down and Cristina works her clit with two fingers. “That’s awesome. That’s fucking amazing.”
“Don’t stop touching me,” Meredith whines.
“Are you kidding? I don’t want to stop,” Cristina says and then Meredith starts to moan, jerking and shuddering in little spastic twitches, this high-pitched whine.
And then she falls forward on Cristina, kissing her all over her face warmly.
“Hot?” Cristina murmurs.
“Nasty and sticky and totally into it,” says Meredith, rubbing her nose against Cristina’s face. “Want to do more.”
“Well, yeah, I’m sticky and not yet sexually satisfied,” Cristina replies with a snort. “You’re not getting out of here yet, Meredith.”
Meredith settles her head against Cristina’s shoulder, and the heel of her hand against Cristina’s clit.
“If this were actually happening, I’d be asking for little hints on what you like,” Meredith says, her tongue flicking out against Cristina’s collarbone. “You know, if we were having drunk crazy rebound sex and I wanted to get you even sweatier before you had to sleep in the wet spot.”
“You have a nasty and demented one track mind,” Cristina says. “I have better things for you to be doing with it than plotting ice cube revenge.”
“Yeah? Show me,” Meredith says, increasing the pressure on Cristina’s clit.
Cristina does.