Chapter One: Hey, Big Spender

Author's Note: I do not own Grey's Anatomy or any of the characters.
This takes place a longgg time before Derek moves to Seattle.

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"Derek, that's ridiculous. You don't have to stay at work, there are plenty of other surgeons in the hospital," Addison insisted, folding her arms over top of her chest. Her statement was replied with a quick roll of the eyes and slight chuckle.

"You don't understand, do you?" Derek leaned up against the wall, mirroring the same pose as his wife, arms folded together over top of his chest. "You're a gynecologist, your patients aren't as important as the ones I have." Upon hearing this, Addison couldn't stop her jaw from slightly dropping. They were both amazing surgeons, and had promised each other that they would never debate that one was better than the other.

"Yes, Derek, my patients are as important. If a woman needs a C-Section, then they need me. My mistakes kill two people, your's kills one. But whatever, I'm not going to argue with you. I'm going home, so much for our double date tonight with Mark and his new girlfriend." Addison didn't wait for a response, she just walked down the narrow hallway and blinked her eyes a couple of times to force the tears to go right back in. It was idiotic, she wasn't supposed to get this offended. It was supposed to be understood that they both had jobs that were time consuming.

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"That's not fair. He really just would rather spend time at the hospital, instead of us all having a big date?" Mark spoke in to the phone, as he tugged on a pair of boxers. His newest girlfriend, Vanessa, sat in the middle of the double bed, a bit frustrated by the fact that her boyfriend was speaking with Addison again. Vanessa didn't know much about the other girl, just that she was married and worked at the hospital. Vanessa, on the other hand, worked at a company with nothing related to medical situations or hospitals, but instead she had to deal with people who had just lost their driver's license. Yeah, no surprise that Mark wasn't picky about the women that he dated. The only thing that he had noticed about her was her body-- or more precisely, her breasts.

"Yeah, I'm sorry Mark. I'll meet her some other time, okay?" As Addison spoke to Mark, she sat at the dining room table. Her phone was pressed up against her ear with her bare shoulder, and she put a coat of pink nailpolish on her fingers. Making herself look better always made her feel better, so her nails tended to change colours often.

Leaving his girlfriend in bed, Mark made his way in to the hallway. "No, Addison. I'll come over, we can have a dinner just the two of us. No, better than that, we'll have dessert. Your favourite ice cream is plain vanilla, isn't it?" It would have been hard for them to be friends all of those years for him not to know her favourite things.

Addison gave in, and shortly after Mark hung up, he found himself sitting on the couch in his living room with Vanessa right on top of his lap. Luckily, she had put on some clothes before going out to talk to him, so Mark would be able to control himself just a bit. Vanessa ran her hands through his hair a few times, gripping at it after a moment and pulling him in to a deep kiss. Another reason Mark liked her? It was all about touching, kissing and sex. Manwhores didn't like deep and meaningful relationships, it made them feel less... manly. To Mark, a deep relationship was as bad as getting a vasectomy-- something that he would never consider, even if he was dying of cancer.

A grin spreading his lips, Mark slid his hands down Vanessa's sides after the kiss had officially ended. "What was that about? I'm only used to you jumping me when we're out in public," he joked, beginning to tickle her sides just a bit.

A squeel escaped from the blonde's lips, and she pulled away so her 'boyfriend' could no longer touch her. "Nothing, I just wanted to make sure that you would think about me at least a bit tonight," she shrugged, pretending as if what she just said was no big deal.

"What is that supposed to mean?" The grin that had been on his face just moments ago had faded, and was replaced with an expression of pure confusion. Women were hard to understand sometimes, but Mark usually could figure out what they meant in some way. What was Vanessa implying?

"It's just... I always hear you talking about Addison. You don't even talk about me," she told him, sitting down on the glass coffee table in front of Mark.

"Why in the world would I talk about you when I'm with you? That doesn't make any sense. You're just insecure like all of my old girlfriends. Forget about it, okay? We were having sex ten minutes ago, I don't want to leave with you being all pissed off at me."

"Well, maybe I am pissed off at you, Mark! I'm tired of the other girls flirting with you. Tell me you want to be with me."

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"Finally, you're here!" Addison exclaimed, hugging her friend tightly. "With ice cream, too. God, you're the best Mark." She took his hand, leading him in to the quiet apartment. The only sound that could be heard was the stereo in the living room playing softly. It had a CD from the early 90s playing, and the music was absolutely horrible.

Mark couldn't help but laugh, and he set the tub of ice cream down on the kitchen counter after Addison was done taking him there. "You sound kind of drunk, sweetheart," he teased, opening up the drawer and getting a spoon for him to share with Addison. He got a spoonful, and extended his arm so she could easily lick the ice cream from the spoon. After Addison cleaned the spoon, she picked up a bottle of Bailey's and poured it in to the tub of ice cream. Mark began to laugh again, taking a spoonful for himself.

"Yes, I'm drunk. Is there anything wrong with that?" she asked, hopping up to sit on the marble counter top. She swung her legs back and forth, eating the ice cream with her finger. So what if it was cold? Her finger was frozen; she couldn't feel it anyways. Mark moved to sit up on the counter as well, but he chose to use the spoon to get his ice cream.

"No, of course I don't mind you being drunk," he told her. In fact, attractive drunk women were his favourite. They were far easier to take advantage of.