Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm just borrowing them.

A/N: This is just a series of three Maddison oneshots written for a challenge. The three of them are written for the prompt "Bite" and are set before Seattle. Let me know what you think!

One

Mark Sloan is not used to avoiding people.

Well, he's used to avoiding women after sleeping with them, but that's about it. So, avoiding one of his best friends? Completely new situation for him. But then again, the feelings he's been having lately aren't exactly familiar, so he assumes his life is just being turned upside down and chooses to roll with it. Kind of.

Because he could just sit back and see where life leads him if those feelings were about someone else. But it's Addison, his best friend, who is married to Derek, his other best friend. And that's why he really can't relax and see what happens. Because you can't really fall in love with your best friend's wife and just roll with it, can you? No. You definitely can't.

So, Mark Sloan is avoiding her like the plague. Like a plague of auburn hair that smells like summer, and red lips that beg to be kissed, and warm smiles that feel like someone's suddenly turned on the light in his previously dark life. And he shouldn't be thinking that way. He should be able to look at her and think "There's Addison, Derek's wife", and not "There's Addison, I wonder what it's like to wake up next to her." So, he's decided she's a plague, and has put himself on quarantine.

And it's working perfectly so far. But not today. Today, he's having one hell of a hard time avoiding her. Because, today? Today it's her birthday. And he's promised himself he's not going to be the first to wish her a happy one. Not this year. Because that's her husband's job, and Mark's been doing it for the past three years. But enough is enough, and he's not going to play house with her anymore. Because now he's in love with her, and he doesn't want it to be a game, and he knows that's just wrong. So, he's not wishing her a happy birthday before Derek does. And that's final.

But, really, his plan would be working much better if Derek was cooperating. Because, if Derek was cooperating – if Derek had already wished his damn wife a happy birthday – then Mark could go over to the nursery, wish her a happy birthday, and go back to avoiding her like the plague. But no, of course Derek isn't cooperating. Because it's already ten in the morning and he hasn't seen Addison since yesterday, when they had surgery together. And Mark knows that, because Derek slept in the same on-call room as himself. Sleeping at the hospital has become a habit for Mark. If he goes home, he'll feel the need to stop by and make sure she's all right. And he can't do that.

Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd doesn't avoid people.

She's too mature for that. She deals with them, talks things through, and fixes whatever issues she has with them. But she doesn't avoid people, because that's immature. And Addison is a strong, confident woman with enough maturity to deal with stuff without having to avoid people. Except for Mark, that is.

She's avoiding Mark. Because she's not a strong, confident woman when he's around. When Mark's around, she's a giggling, blushing teen, and she can't have that. Not when she can't really remember the last time Derek made her giggle, or blush, or feel like a teen. And Derek – her husband, Derek – not being able to make her feel those things anymore is bad enough, but the fact that his best friend is the one that makes her giggle and blush and feel like a teen? That's ten times worse. So, she's avoiding Mark Sloan.

And, as far as she's concerned, she's doing a great job. She's barely seen him in days, and when she saw him, Derek was also there, so that's very good. See? Not only is she avoiding temptation, but she's also spending time with her husband. And Addison refuses to acknowledge the fact that these days, when she spends the same amount of time with both of them, she misses Mark more than she misses Derek. Because that's ten different kinds of wrong, and she's not that woman. She's not the woman who falls in love with her husband's best friend.

But today, she wishes things were back to normal. Because she knows Derek is not going to wish her a happy birthday. He hasn't remembered it in three years, and that's probably never going to change. And, even though she's promised herself she won't look forward to seeing Mark today – because she should be looking forward to seeing her husband, not her friend – she can't help but hope he'll come by the nursery and wish her a happy birthday.

And she hopes he's not mad because she didn't call him yesterday – it was a Thursday, and Thursdays are for friendly movie-watching – and he's just busy with some surgery. But she couldn't call him, just like she didn't call him for the Wednesday friendly Chinese take-out, or the Tuesday friendly baseball game. Because she knows, the moment she calls, Mark will be there. Mark is always there. And she can't have that.

Mark Sloan is not a violent person.

He's not the kind of man who punches people when they get on his nerves. And that's what he keeps telling himself as he listens to Derek talk about his latest surgery. They're having lunch together, as they do almost everyday now that he's avoiding Addison, and his friend hasn't talked about anything but work. And Mark wishes he'd annoy the hell out of him by asking for ideas to surprise Addie on her birthday, like he used to do when things were simpler. When Derek was in love with his wife and Mark didn't really care what he planned for her on her birthday. But nothing's simple anymore.

Now, it's Derek not giving a damn and Mark being in love. But there's one thing that stays the same: Addison is still Derek's wife. And Mark knows it's wrong, but the urge to punch Derek gets bigger every second he spends talking about craneotomies instead of plans for Addison's birthday. But he isn't a violent person. And he tells himself that he doesn't want to punch him because he has the only woman he's ever loved and he doesn't even look at her anymore. He wants to punch him because he wants him to realize that he's ruining his marriage. It's not jealousy, it's concern. But it doesn't matter, because Mark is not a violent person.

Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd is not a bitch.

She's just professional. And, as a professional, she expects her staff to be one hundred percent focused on their jobs. So, when that ped's nurse giggled as she told the NICU nurse about what she did with Dr.Sloan in the on-call room last week, she thought it was necessary to let her know that was unacceptable behavior for a professional. And it's not that she's a bitch. It's just that she has high standards when it comes to her job. That's all. The problem wasn't that hearing the nurse talk about what she did with him filled her with something that resembled jealousy – but wasn't, of course, because she's not that woman –, the problem was that the nurse wasn't being professional.

And so, she asked her, politely but sternly, if she had nothing better to do than gossiping outside her NICU. Out of professional concern, not jealousy. And the same nurses saying Dr. Shepherd is a bitch was completely uncalled for. And untrue. But, this time, Addison didn't say a thing, she just walked past them and went home for the night. Not that hearing them talk about Mark hurt more than hearing them call her a bitch. No, it wasn't that. It was just that she didn't want to give them more reasons to call her a bitch. Because, Addison? Is not a bitch.

Mark Sloan hates the rain.

He hates it with a passion. He doesn't see anything romantic or poetic about the rain. It's just cold water falling from the sky, and you get wet, and then you get a cold. Nothing romantic or poetic about that. So he always does his best to stay inside when it's raining. Except tonight.

Tonight, he's staying in front of her best friends' brownstone, soaking wet, after reminding Derek of Addison's birthday and being told he had a late surgery. Mark doesn't have an umbrella – he gave it to Addison the last time she forgot hers at home – and the rain is dripping from his hair and soaking up his jacket. His favorite jacket. But it doesn't matter. Because, right now? He has more important things to worry about.

Like knocking or not. Wishing her a happy birthday or not. And he knows, if he does it, he'll be playing husband again. Letting himself fall a little deeper, like he always does when he looks at her. Letting himself hurt a little more, like he always does when he leaves her. But then again, if he doesn't do it, no one will wish her a happy one. And it breaks his heart to think about that. So he stays outside, risking a cold and trying to make up his mind.

Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd hates sheets with paisleys.

She hates them because Derek loves them. She hates them because they remind her of him – of the lack of him – in bed. And she keeps putting them on their bed, because he loves them, because she still hopes he'll share them with her one of these nights. Every Friday, she changes the sheets and makes sure the clean ones also have paisleys on them. In case he comes home. Every Friday is the same, but not today.

Today, she's putting flannel sheets instead. Because she loves them and he hates them. And, today, it's not Paisley Sheets Friday. It's 39th Birthday Friday, and he's not coming home. And she sits down on the bed, feeling the flannel on her skin, and looks at the phone on her bedside table, toying with the idea of calling Mark. Even though she knows if there's someone she should want to call, that's Derek, her husband. Not Mark, his best friend.

But she's not crying because of Derek's lack of interest. She's crying because Mark hasn't wished her a happy birthday. And she knows it's both stupid and wrong, but that doesn't make it any less true. She misses him. And she's not calling him, but she's put the flannel sheets on the bed. The ones Mark bought for them as a joke after laughing at all the paisley in their linen closet. Because Addison hates paisley, and she loves flannel.

11:50 p.m is not a normal time to hear a knock on the door.

And Addison walks downstairs as she dries her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, but stops on her tracks when she recognizes the man standing on the other side of the glass doors. And she stops on the last step of the stairs, thinking about the possibilities.

If she opens the door, she'll be letting herself see she is the kind of woman who falls in love with her husband's best friend, like she always does when she sees him. She'll be letting herself hurt a little more, like she always does when he leaves. And, if she doesn't open it, if she walks back upstairs, she'll be leaving him outside in the pouring rain he hates so much. And it breaks her heart to think about leaving him there. So she opens the door.

"You're soaking wet." "I didn't know if I should come."

Oh. And a pause.

"You took a while to open the door." "I didn't know if I should let you in."

Another pause, longer this time. And then she fully opens the door and steps aside, looking down. The ball's in his court. He takes a step and walks inside, standing in front of her. Close, but also looking down.

"Happy birthday."

And it feels like an I love you, because that's what he meant.

"Thank you."

I love you too. And they look at each other. And then it happens.

He kisses her, or she kisses him – it doesn't matter – and they stumble towards the stairs, kissing as if they needed each other's mouth to live. He pushes her up against the wall before they reach the stairs, long legs wrapped around his waist and lips hurting in the most delicious way. And his jacket falls to the floor, and that's his cue to put her down and walk upstairs, tongues dueling and hands traveling under layers of fabric, aching for the feel of each other's skin.

They fall on the bed and it doesn't matter if her bra's still on, or if she hasn't finished pushing his boxers down his legs, because this is not about seeing each other, this is about feeling each other. Feeling her around him and feeling him inside her. Letting each other feel the things they can't let each other hear. And every thrust and kiss feels like an I love you, and every sigh and moan means I love you too.

And somewhere between the groans and sighs and moans and ragged breaths, they hear a door open, maybe downstairs or maybe in this same room, but it doesn't matter. Not when he falls on top of her and she bites his shoulder to keep herself from screaming.

Not when she's left a bitemark that tells him his name would have been the one she screamed.