Title: My Coffee Break Time
Rating: K+/PG
Disclaimer: not mine.
Word Count: 864
Summary: Derek/Meredith, Alex/Addison, Mark/Izzie. Romance and reunion. A NYC trio friendship fic. Future AU. One-shot.
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Years after they'd divorced, the gossips at Seattle Grace were still betting on when McDreamy and the Witch would reunite in a torrid affair.
Those poor young things, the voices would murmur, should never have stumbled into the adulterers' lair.
They were innocent, bright young things, and their older lovers doted on them. Cheating on each other had been cruel, but they'd been screwing around on equals then. Derek and Addison agreed: cheating on Meredith and Alex would be unforgivably unfair. And so, when they had their "civilized" lunches, they'd giggle over the notion, together, and sometimes even fuel the fire. She'd wait until Nurse Debbie got there, and reach out to stroke his face. He'd hold out her chair for her. They'd steal each other's food. And then Addison would go find Alex and drag him to the on-call room. Derek would seek out Meredith and sniff her hair. If they ever wondered how the other felt, they never voiced it. They were faithful and good to their lovers—they made real efforts to show they cared.
Even Mark had grown up. When he'd finally got a second chance at fatherhood, he'd made an honest woman out of Izzie Stevens. Their house was in the suburbs. He was a considerate husband and a conscientious father.
They were happy. All three of them.
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Meredith lay against Derek in the tub. The bubbles had all dissolved, and the water was getting tepid.
"I'm glad you're home," Derek murmured against her shoulder. She mm'ed agreement. As his hands caressed her thighs, she snuck a hand around behind her back, and her fingers crept down his front. They paused before their destination.
"You're getting quite the gut," she observed. "Old age," he explained, and they both snorted, just a little.
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Addison was slumped against her dresser, face hidden in her folded arms. Losing babies was never fun. It had been a very long day. Alex had been more successful; his patient's triplets were ensconced in the NICU. He predicted they'd go home soon.
He gently stroked the boar-bristle brush across her hair. It was good for her—distributed natural oils—but mostly she just enjoyed the sensations on her scalp. He didn't like her new shade of red, but it wasn't like he could tell her. "Your roots are gray," he informed her. "Time for a new dye job."
She sighed. "I'll call and make an appointment in the morning."
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They supposed they should have seen it coming. Karma, or whatever. It was a quiet board that day. So after lunch, Addison suggested juju. She and Derek headed for the break room. As they passed the linen closet, they heard a woman's voice groan, "Alex." Both froze. She knew that voice. He knew that sound. They both could put together two and two. (That made four of them.)
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The phone rang in suburban paradise. Mark kissed baby George on the head and passed him to his wife. He answered, then was silent. After a few seconds, Mark sat down. He covered the receiver with his hand and mouthed at Izzie, "Derek." He told the phone, "I'll be right there," and hung up.
"I have to go. My other family needs me."
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By the time Mark arrived, Derek and Addison had decided it was funny. Well, ridiculous, at least. And laughter was a cure. So Derek ran his fingers through his hair, and Addison rubbed her eyes and smeared her face with mascara, and they sighed and looked at Mark and then burst into giggles. Mark couldn't fathom the source, but humor was a social grace, so he joined the fun. When the noise subsided, they felt better. It was time for a second youth.
Mark turned to Derek and grinned. "Want to take a ride on the ferry boat?"
Derek laughed and let Mark help him up. He turned to Addison and gave her his wryest McDreamy smile. "Coming, Addie?" She stood, hooked one arm in his, and held out the other. Mark took it.
"All for one?" She smiled. They smirked back. The trio headed for the docks, arm in arm in arm. It was as things should be. When they had boarded and were on deck, they stood in a row, watching the same patch of land disappear. Addison was still in the middle.
"You know, Derek," Mark pointed out. "We swore we'd never let a woman come between us."
Addison slapped him on the arm, reached over to kiss Derek on the cheek, and ruffled Mark's hair.
"Satan doesn't count," she said. "I'm asexual."
Derek laughed. "I think we'd both beg to differ there."
She scoffed, "As if you fools would've noticed." And then she was off the ground—they'd grabbed her by the arms and swung her into the air. She squealed in protest, and across the tangle of Prada and red hair, the two men winked at each other. When she was on her feet again, she shot them both her best death glare. "Bastards."
"Guilty as charged," Mark replied. Derek feigned innocence.
They beamed at each other, and breathed in Puget Sound. And one for all.
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A/N: I haven't slept in a week. If you hate this, just chalk it up to an insomniac's fevered waking dream. I don't know where the concept came from, but if it's yours and I've accidentally borrowed it, please let me know and I'll be sure to credit! Thanks, GG.