Sleeping With the Enemy
Chapter Three: The Benefits of Whiskey
Grey's Anatomy
George/Alex
George/Callie undertones
R
This day was just too much for Alex. He was going to the bar. Regardless of the fact that he only had about six hours until he needed to be back at the hospital, he was planning on getting drunk. First his irritating lunch with Grey, then his confusing elevator ride with O'Malley, and finally, his awkward conversation with Yang. It was just too much.
"Give me a shot of whiskey," he said as he slid onto a barstool.
"Any preference?" Joe asked, stepping towards the whiskey bottles.
"Whatever's strongest," Alex said without hesitation. As an afterthought, he added, "and make it a double."
"Coming up," Joe said, grabbing a bottle and filling up a double shotglass. He slid the glass to Alex, who immediately brought it to his lips and downed it quickly.
He slammed it on the bar. "Another." Joe repeated the procedure until Alex had consumed four double shots. After Alex had polished off his last one, he licked his lips to disguise his after-shot face and stood up to go to the bathroom.
Alex was pretty drunk. Four double shots of strong whiskey in a matter of fifteen minutes will do that to you. He stepped up to a urinal, relieved himself, flushed, and washed his hands. As he opened the bathroom door, he sighed, debating whether he should have another drink. He probably shouldn't, considering he'd either still be drunk by the time his shift started or have the oncomings of a hangover.
But he didn't feel drunk enough. And Meredith had gone in drunk once, and they just shoved her aside and didn't worry about it. Alex wanted to actually do surgeries tomorrow and not be a pushover like Meredith Grey, but right now getting drunk was more of a priority.
He reseated himself at the bar. "Whiskey and Coke. Strong, no ice," Alex told Joe, turning slightly to scope out the other bargoers. Nobody he really recognized. He swivelled around again to take the new drink. He took a sip, winced, and took another.
Damn this whole fucked up situation, Alex thought. He grabbed a stirrer from the glass on the bar and slowly swirled it in his drink. Despite the fact that he had been drunk at the time, he thought sleeping with Callie would be a good idea. A wakeup call for George. In reality, it turned out to be a wakeup call for himself. Or, not really, because everything was really confusing right now. Hence the whole getting drunk thing.
"So what's eating you?" Joe asked, wiping the counter.
"Huh?" Alex asked, shaking out of his thoughts. He looked at the bartender.
"Four double shots and a strong whiskey and Coke in less than a half hour?" joe mused, checking his watch. "I've been a bartender for a long time. I can read peoples emotions solely through their drink orders." He leaned against the counter, throwing the rag over his shoulder. "So what's up?"
Alex sighed. "I dunno, man."
"You and George still fighting?"
"No... yeah... I don't know. Fuck. We're not fighting, we're just... not talking right now." Alex stirred his drink some more, a little more vigorously.
"You want to talk about it?" Joe offered.
Alex looked up at him. "No offence, Joe, but–"
Joe held his hands up in defense. "I know, I'm just a bartender. But, in saying that, I'm still a bartender. Talking to me is like talking to a wall – I take no sides, I make no judgements. But on the positive side, I can at least respond in the appropriate way at the appropriate time and maybe even offer some advice. Being a bartender, I've heard it all. But being Joe, I've never repeated any of it."
Alex sighed again. "Fuck. Just fuck, y'know? I don't have a lot of friends. My work friends – George, Izzie, Cristina, Meredith – we never really do anything. Or, they do, but don't invite me. But they've got their little established friendship and don't need anybody else. I'm just trying to get a little male companionship, get a buddy, y'know, but George just..."
"I don't think they don't need anybody else," Joe offered. "Everybody could use another friend."
"It doesn't seem that way," Alex mumbled, feeling awkward letting his feelings out like this. He stared into his drink, and realizing that it was still virtually full, he took a big swallow.
"Maybe they don't understand that you're trying to make an effort."
"Maybe," he snarled, taking another big drink.
"Well, here's your chance to try again," Joe said, nodding in the direction behind Alex. He offered a small smile and went back to wiping down the counter. Alex turned to see Cristina strutting up to him.
"What's up, 'Rev?" she asked, sitting at the chair to his right.
"'Rev?" he said, confused, frowning.
"Like, short for Karev?" she explained, ordering a vodka tonic.
Alex shook off the weird alteration of his name, but commented on her choice of drink. "Vodka tonic? That's fucking disgusting."
"Don't criticize me," she snipped, pulling her drink towards her. "At least I'm not getting denied access into George's pants."
"I'm not trying to get into George's pants!" Alex said a little too loudly. Nobody seemed to notice, but Alex still flushed.
"If you say so," Cristina said, sipping her drink. "But I bet I could get George into bed like that." She snapped her fingers for cinematic effect. "He's cute, but he's puppy-dog cute. Guys like him are a breeze."
"I thought you had a lot of stuff to do at home?" Alex changed the subject.
Cristina shrugged. "I guess there wasn't as much as I thought."
Alex nodded. He rotated his glass on the bar a few times before lifting and downing it. He debated whether or not he needed another.
"Ah, Georgie-boy, we were just talking about you," Cristina was saying, and Alex looked up. George was sliding into the seat on the other side of her. Without another thought, Alex caught Joe's eye and pointed at his empty glass, indicating that he wanted another.
"I'll take another one, too, Joe," Cristina said as she quickly finished her vodka tonic.
George was slipping out of his jacket as Joe brought Alex and Cristina their drinks. "And for you, George?"
George glanced down the bar. He nodded in Alex's direction. "I'll have whatever Alex is having."
"Whiskey and Coke, strong, no ice?" Joe asked.
"Yeah. Well, I'll have ice," George agreed. Joe went to fill George's order. Alex caught George's eye, but George averted his eyes and finished removing his jacket.
After Joe brought George his drink and George thanked him, Cristina spoke up. "So George, what are you getting me for Christmas?"
George chuckled. "Who says I'm getting you anything?"
Cristina put on her famous mock-serious face. "You better, dickweed, or I'll make your life a living hell. I do a lot for you."
George laughed. "What are you getting me?"
"I asked you first."
"What fun is it if I tell you?" George asked, stirring his drink.
"Because I'm probably not going to like it, so this way I'll tell you to return it and make a better suggestion."
George shook his head, smiling. "Oh, Cristina."
"I'm serious," she said, though letting a small grin to surface.
Alex watched this exchange silently, quietly sipping at his drink. This kind of relationship was what he was talking about. He wanted friendship like that. He pushed his still-full glass forward and stood up. "Alright guys, I'm out." Without waiting for a response, he made for the door. "Put it on my tab, Joe."
"Wait, how much has he had to drink?" George asked Joe, his brow furrowing.
"A lot," Joe said. "He really shouldn't drive."
"Shit," George said. He pulled three crumpled twenties from his wallet, and threw them on the bar to pay for his and Alex's drinks. He ran after Alex, who had just left the building.
Cristina grinned. "George doesn't know what he's getting himself into," she said to herself.