Da da da da da da dum da,
Da da da da da da dum da,
Da da da da da da dum da dum da dum da dum da.
Fantasy
Mariah Carey
Sweet, Sweet Fantasy, Baby
"The greatest thing about Addison's breasts is their breasty consistency," Izzie Stevens said placing her hands on Addison's exposed chest and squeezing.
Addison giggled.
"See," Izzie continued, "firm but also pleasantly squishy. I'm an underwear model so I know what I'm talking about."
"She's right, Mark,"Addison agreed. "My breasts feel amazing. Come see for yourself."
"No. We're not supposed to be having sex for sixty days, remember?"
Addison smiled.
"Yes, I remember, but obviously this doesn't have to count." She gasped as Izzie's tongue flicked over her nipple.
"Mmmm. I changed my mind. The greatest thing about Addison's breasts is that they taste even better than they feel," Izzie said and continued gliding her mouth over Addison's skin.
Addison closed her eyes and started making that noise.
"You're breaking our deal, Addison."
She glared at him.
"It's your fantasy Mark. I can't exactly control my own actions right now. And by the way, what is Stevens doing here? Allowing other women into your fantasies doesn't exactly prove that you feel 'that way' about me."
"Oh, like you're not fantasizing about Karev, right now."
"I'm not fantasizing about anything. I'm a figment of your imagination. I don't have my own thoughts. Now, are we having sex or not?"
"I think I'm late for work."
Right on cue his alarm clock started buzzing.
"Well, that was weird," he thought as he untangled himself from his twisted sheets.
He supposed he shouldn't really be surprised. This had been going on for weeks. He should be used to weird by now. Still,
"Where the hell did that come from?"
Mark had never considered himself a particularly imaginative guy. He'd never really needed to be. After all, what was the point of fantasies if he could have the real thing whenever he wanted? Until his deal with Addison, that is.
After about a week, he'd really started missing sex. Then the fantasies had started.
They were fairly normal at first. He'd see Addison at work, wearing the porn-star-librarian glasses, and imagine going at it with her in an on-call room... or in her office... or in the chief's office.
But soon the fantasies started to get strange. And they got stranger and stranger as the days went by.
Maybe it was his long dormant imagination finally starting up again. Maybe it was just that going without sex was literally driving him crazy.
He certainly had no control over the twisted shit his sub-conscious cooked up. If he had most of the fantasies would have played out quite differently. Half the time they weren't even sexual anymore.
He was taking a plane from New York to Seattle. Addison appeared wearing something resembling a flight attendant's uniform only skimpier. He assumed he was about to join the mile-high club, but instead Addison belted him tightly into his seat and spent the duration of the flight reading him a long list of airline regulations.
"Rule number one: No man-whores."
Then he and Addison were in the back seat of his father's Lincoln kissing nervously, like a pair of awkward teenagers. He was struggling to unbutton her shirt when she pushed his hands away and informed him that if he wanted to continue he would have to drive her to somewhere more secluded.
"Please, Mark. Can we please just drive out to the country so no one will see us? I really don't want to get caught."
"Who's going to catch us?"
"Richard. Miranda. Derek. Please, Mark. If they catch us we'll be in so much trouble. I really don't want to get caught with you."
That one had really bothered him. He'd actually cold-shouldered her for an entire day after it, despite the fact that she had no control over his imaginings and if he was angry with anyone it should be himself.
Addison approached him as he read a chart at the third floor nurses station. She sidled up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Jeers and catcalls erupted all around them. Several nurses got out cell-phones and started spreading the news to their friends.
"Addison, why is everyone freaking out?"
"They just like to gossip. Don't worry about it."
Nurse Debbie started edging nearer to them, evidently trying to record their conversation on her camera-phone.
"Mark, I think she wants you to give a speech."
"What am I supposed to talk about?" He could feel his ears starting to redden.
"Just tell them how you feel about me. You have lipstick on your cheek, by the way."
He instinctively raised his hand to wipe it away.
He'd been completely lost as to why he would have dreamed something like that. He wanted to be in a relationship with Addison. Being kissed by Addison in public shouldn't be embarrassing. What was wrong with him?
He got an answer of sorts a few nights later.
Addison and his mother lay in deck chairs by the side of a pool, sunning themselves and chatting loudly. His job was to stand quietly to the side and serve them gin and tonics.
"You know Addison," his mother said. "Mark has been having some trouble with nightmares lately and I've absolutely no idea what to do about it. The poor nanny is at her wit's end."
Addison nodded and sipped her drink pensively. "Maybe it has something to do with this whole Sixty-Days-No-Sex rule I've imposed on him."
"Perhaps."
"Maybe the idea that he might actually pull it off is starting to freak him out. Maybe he's unsettled by the prospect of actually being in a committed relationship."
"You could be right." his mother mused. "But who wants to talk about Mark anyways? He can't even mix a decent gin and tonic."
"You're right. This tastes terrible."
"Well, he's a failure at everything he does. But let's talk about you. I absolutely must get the number of your colourist."
"Wait a minute," he tried to cut in. "I want to know why I'm having these dreams."
"The mind is a mysterious thing," Addison replied.
"Children should be seen and not heard," his mother snapped.
He woke feeling pretty confused, but at least he knew his dreams weren't motivated purely by sexual frustration. Still, he had no idea how to get rid of them, or what they meant.
Addison placed a squirming bundle in his arms and handed him a pacifier.
"Can you look after the baby for a few hours? I have a date with Karev." She said, not even bothering to wait for an answer before turning to walk away. The bundle started to cry.
"Feed the baby Mark."
"What do I feed it?"
"You have to breast-feed it." Her tone was patronizing, as if it was something completely obvious he should have realized for himself. "Look, I'm going to be late. I'm sure you can figure it out," she called over her shoulder as she departed.
"Don't go."
By the time Addison returned the baby had shriveled up like a raison and died. She carefully took it from his arms and sighed, sadness, but not anger evident in her face. She looked at him quietly for a minute before saying,
"See, I knew you would make a terrible father."
After that one he hadn't slept for days, afraid of returning to face the disappointed look in Addison's eyes as she took the child he'd killed from him. He blamed this loss of sleep on her and almost refused to let her in when she showed up at his door in the middle of his third sleepless night. Apparently she was having trouble sleeping as well.
They lay together on the sofa, her back resting against his chest, her breathing perfectly synchronized to his. He kissed her softly on the back of the neck and she snuggled against him curling her body to fit closer to his. Their legs tangled together and she laced her fingers through his, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it. He felt the tension flow out of his body and a sense of peace began to overtake him. Only when Derek appeared and loving tucked the two of them under a blanket did he realize he was dreaming.
End.
Well, that started out funny and turned kind of sad in the end. Poor Mark.
I meant to poke fun at the whole practice of putting song lyrics into a fic but then I realized that what I put in actually set the mood of the piece pretty well. Sort of like a little flag to the reader. "So… this is… um… not too deep. Don't take it too seriously. Enjoy."
However, if you've ever read Jung, you might have noticed that some of the dreams had symbolic meanings. No, not the soft core Izzie on Addison porn. That was just for laughs.
Oh, and Marks mother is basically Lucille from Arrested Development. Who is probably the funniest character on television. I made them drink gin and tonics because they are bitter. Just like my darling Lucille. Yay. I'm smart.
Please, review.