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A Night With Addison
A well-made martini is beautiful and it's one of those small things that can make a bad day just a little bit better. It's a precise drink and easily ruined, if you go light on the gin and heavy with the vermouth. A martini should never be shaken, regardless of how many times you've heard James Bond ask for it 'shaken, not stirred.' Shaking a martini clouds and dilutes the drink.
When your life has been irreparably shaken, it's crucial that your martini is not.
I've had a chilled and perfect martini waiting for nearly an hour. Little drops of condensation gather and run down the sides of the stemmed cocktail glass. I might as well go on and dump it out. I knew she'd be late, but mixing the drinks gave me a sense of purpose: something to do while I wait for the sound of her keycard in the door.
When she finally arrives, the late news is just beginning. I can't help it; my heart starts pounding harder and I need to remind myself to breathe. Addison Montgomery Shepard is one of the most stunning women I've ever known. She shouldn't be beautiful, not in the ordinary or conventional sense of the word, but she is.
Look at her features individually and you'll spot the flaws. Her forehead is too broad; the angle of her chin too square. Everything about her face is just a bit off-kilter. But all I can think when I see her is she's perfect.
She stops briefly in the hallway of our suite, removing her drenched rain coat and tossing it over the bathroom shower curtain. This morning, she'd curled her hair. I did everything I could think of to persuade her to linger, just because I wanted to keep looking at her. Touching her. She's like a drug, even now, her wet hair lank and limp. Tired, brutally so. Drained. Still beautiful. Her huge blue eyes follow me as I mix fresh drinks. Slumped in an armchair, she wearily kicks off her shoes, sighing heavily.
I hand her the martini and she smiles. "Thank you.. you have no idea what kind of day this was." She sips, nodding her head. "This is great."
I lean down to kiss her. I can't help noticing that a stray wisp of hair lies against her cheek like a damp petal. Her lips meet mine and I find myself desiring her desperately. I want to claim her, give her pleasure, hear her moan in my ear. I want to look into her eyes while she comes. And then, almost immediately, I want to protect her, get her out of her wet clothes, put her to bed and hold her while she sleeps.
The urge to protect wins out. For now.
She picks the olive out and pops it in her mouth, licking her lips. She's killing me and I love it.
"That was good," She pushes the stray hair away and frowns slightly. "You know... I can't even remember if I ate lunch or not."
I jump up, go to the table, looking for the menu. "I can order room service. What do you feel like eating?"
She waves the menu away. "Maybe later."
"How did you get so wet, anyway?"
Addison laughs, a rueful expression on her face. "Because... after all this time in Seattle, I still forget my umbrella. Pretty stupid, huh?"
I study her closely. "Do you feel like talking? What happened today?" She tucks her legs up under her bottom, tugging at her skirt.
"Oh fuck this!" She unzips the skirt and throws it across the room. I laugh as it parachutes over the bed.
She laughs, just a little. "I'm going to need that second drink after all."
I reluctantly turn away from those long legs, that exposed skin. "I'm on it."
Grateful to have something to do with my hands, I mix up more drinks. "This is it, though. No more until you eat something."
"Well... It wasn't too bad, until Karev caught a case in the pit. Seven months pregnant and she gets into a fight with her ... the baby's father. Not good, right?"
I nod, sipping my drink.
She continues. "So it turns out that just giving her a matching pair of black eyes wasn't quite enough."
Addison drains the glass and sets it down. "He knocked her down and stepped on her face. Nice, huh? But does she want to press charges? Of course not! And I don't know how much they can do. I called a consult in from Plastics. And then... Mr. Wonderful shows up to bring her home."
"Mark left, then?" I've been afraid to ask. She nods.
I can tell she doesn't want to talk about him, and I can't help being relieved.
"So... I go to check on another patient and Meredith Fucking Grey has her hand down Derek's pants in the hallway. Perfect, huh?" She buries her face in her hands.
"What has she got that I don't have? I don't want him back, but I just want to figure it out!" She starts crying. I get up and go to her. She pulls me down into the chair with her; at least it's one of those big, overstuffed things. Leaning against my shoulder, she finally lets go, sobbing.
Shaken. It takes all my effort to calm her. When she's all cried out, I tell her this.
Derek prefers Meredith because she's young and easily manipulated. He doesn't want a relationship between equals, no matter how hard he tries to tell himself that he does. Addison is, and always will be, a stronger person and a better doctor. Only the most skilled fingers can work on those tiny infants. Only someone with pure instinct, someone who can listen as well as diagnose can do what she does. He will never be her equal. Their marriage was gone way before Mark showed up.
Meredith Grey was the one who called time of death, with her trembling voice and puppy dog eyes.
Addison knows this. I know it. She needs time to heal.
Slowly she pulls me up, and I bury my face in her hair.
The smell of rain and shampoo and something faintly medicinal. It's like an aphrodesiac for me. I begin to undo the buttons on her blouse; creamy skin and black lace beckon. Her skin is warm and yielding.
She nips at my earlobe gently. Useless to resist and why would I want to?
I whisper, "You call the shots, Addison..."
She nips a bit harder, sliding her hands up under my tee shirt, teasing me. We kiss and I'm moaning into her mouth, softly, trying not to lose control. Addison likes it fast and dirty, or slow and sweet.
"Damn right I do."
It's going to be slow and sweet, then. We separate long enough to gaze at each other. Some of the sparkle has returned to her eyes. I'm putty in her hands.
Derek Shepard is a fool. I pray daily that he'll never change.
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