A/N: This is gonna be a collection of one-shots all starting with or circling around questions that - according to my doctor's waiting room magazine - everyone should ask their partners before thinking about getting into a serious relationship. I thought it was fun to write fics to a couple of them. Although I'm not going to concentrate only on romantic relationships here. The characters involved will be listed at the beginning of each individual chapter.

(Mark, Addison, Derek, Naomi, Sam)

If you could change something about me, anything, what would it be?

Mark takes a moment to look at his friend with professional eyes. They are sitting with their lunch bags outside on the grass, because the weather is always better after vacation, when you have to go back to med school and actually no time to enjoy the sun despite during short breaks like this one.

Derek was joking, of course, challenging him like always, wondering if he will go for it. But he does. He said he wants into plastics, he will stick with it.

"Your nose."

"What?" Derek looks at him stunned, partly regretting that he asked, Mark guesses and smirks at Addison who bursts out into laughters next to her dazzled boyfriend. She drops on her back, holding her stomach, her shimmery red hair complementary to the green grass.

"It has a little bump, you know. And from the side it looks hooky."

Sam's eyes wander from one friend to the other, as Addison's laughing gets louder and gaspier by the second. "Can't... breathe...," she manages and it's unclear if Naomi is also laughing about Derek's face or Addison, as she pulls her up only to let her drop again, because laughing persons are heavy and slack and not cooperative.

"Dude, what did you expect? Nothing?" Mark defends himself, raising his eyebrows, chuckling, but not helping Derek's mouth to close again. He likes this, that the joke is not on him for once. Not that he is offended when Derek makes fun of his girlfriends and that he is unable to stay in a relationship for longer than a month, he can take that, but sometimes it gets a little too one-sided with the golden boy.

"My nose isn't hooky. Right, Addie?" he searches for support next to him, mock-offended and maybe a little more, finding that his girlfriend is still rolling on the ground, already looking dangerously red-faced.

"It is a little," Sam says diplomatically and shrugs and Naomi's hand is on his neck in an instant, squeezing it softly. Mark looks away and catches Addison's gaze before she turns to Derek, nudging his shoulder, still smiling and catching her breath. Sometimes he feels as if he doesn't belong. "What about me?" she says then, her eyes curious and ridiculously clear blue, almost like the sky above them. "What would you change about me?"

He swallows. Nothing, Red. You are perfect, he thinks, but throws her his trademark smirk. "I'm not telling you that."

She grins. "Why not? I can take it." And then, "Come on, Mark, I can!"

"But Derek will hit me and hurt his hand." That is probably not even a lie.

Derek snorts and Mark thinks this mock-offended-thing is getting old, but Addison chuckles anyway and lays her head on Derek's shoulder, her eyes fixed on Mark though. "Okay, that I understand."

No, you don't, he thinks, but winks at her as the fun flirty guy is. He can't blame her, sitting there, letting Derek play with her fingers.

They do make a great couple, he thinks. Try to be happy for them.

XXXXX

The next time he hears the question, it's more than a decade later and it surprises him, because, well, it's more than a decade later. He's is an accomplished plastics surgeon now, part of his job is to make the world a prettier place if he wants to admit it or not, and his eyes are actually more qualified to answer to that than in med school, but it pains him to even think about it.

He knows that she doesn't mean it that way, that she just wants to know the answer he's been withholding for so long. Her hair is shorter, the skin around her eyes creases a little when she laughs, the same with the skin around her mouth when she is dead serious. That's all that has really changed. The way she looks at him now, half smile, tired and yet curious – it's not even visible. What is visible though is the bitterness in her eyes, where idealism had its place, loneliness where happiness used to be. He knows how to restore the latter, but not for good, and there is no help for the first.

But his answer is still the same, it will always be the same, and this time he can say it. "Nothing, Red. You are perfect."

He thinks it's surprise that flickers and mixes up the greyish blue in her eyes for a moment. And he thinks that she understands.