ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ғᴏᴜʀ; ʜᴏᴘᴇʟᴇss

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hopeless 

( adjective

having no expectation of good or success


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EVERETT BOUNCES the baby on her knee. Her black hair has been braided perfectly, and she's chewing on one of the ends despite how many times the surgeon has tried to tug it out of her tight fingers. She tries it one more time, smiling toothily - despite her lack of many teeth - up at the woman who's too busy staring at her mother messing up her birthday cake. Zola, the officially adopted daughter of Meredith Grey and Derek Shepherd, is a year old now and perfect in every way, especially to those staying in the Grey household, who spend all their hours away from work surrounded by her cheery smiles and pretty laughter.

"Oh, damn it," Meredith swears to herself when her hand slips while trying to ice the cake she'd forced Everett, April and Lexie to help her make. The blonde size-six currently rummaging through the fridge looks up at the noise, but goes back to trying to find whatever her skinny body can handle while the three surgeons at the kitchen table take a look at the cake.

"'Gag Zola!' Really?"

"Those aren't g's. Those are y's for yay! Yay Zola!"

Everett can't stop herself from laughing. She jostles Zola a little more on her knee and babbles almost incoherently to the one-year-old staring confusedly up at her. "Mommy's not very good at cake decorating, is she Zozo?" Beside her, Jackson's trying to convince Meredith that any other normal person would have written happy birthday, but it's obvious they didn't make a cake big enough for all those letters.

"Okay," April cuts in, trudging into the kitchen with her pink robe almost falling off her shoulders. "Who used up the last of my deodorant."

"Oh. That might have been me." Their heads all swivel towards the blonde pulling things out of the fridge. Everett hasn't seen someone wearing sparkly, silver leopard print at seven in the morning since her days at college. "Sorry. Kinda had a workout last night."

Jackson claims she isn't his one-night stand.

Everett can't remember the last time she even had sex.

Before they can figure out who this blonde came home with last night, Karev lumbers into the kitchen in search of the coffee they all desperately rely on. Jackson and Everett both laugh, holding up their mugs and claiming they'd had the last droplets left.

Karev groans and tries to turn his puppy dog eyes on the surgeon holding the baby. As if that'd actually work on her when coffee is involved. Everyone knows her ability to function properly depends entirely on a caffeine supply.

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