She fiddles with her fingers, a bit awkwardly, in the Adirondack chair facing the sea, and Addison inwardly sighs. Because it's not easy to say no to Meredith Grey. And it's not easy to watch her try to struggle to get through the emotions of her day. There are some people for which simply living is just so fucking hard. Meredith is one of these people. Every day is hard. But she intersperses her emotions and her tears and her struggles with the occasional bright, genuine smile and tinkling laugh. And that alone is why, Addison thinks, people keep coming back to her. She's attractive in a save-me kind of way. She begs for someone to take charge and to make living day-to-day a little easier.
"Grey." Addison's voice is a bit scratchy; she clears her throat. "What's on your mind?"
Meredith never just sits without a purpose. It might take her awhile to enunciate what she feels, but given the time, she'll come around to the point. Now, she tugs a little at her hair and twists it smoothly around her fingers. "I don't understand."
Addison rolls her eyes a little. "Grey. I can't read your mind." It's tough not to get impatient with Meredith; she doesn't seem to get that not everyone has time for or is even on her wavelength. Meredith shakes her head a little and sighs.
"I mean, I do get it. I guess. But I just . . . it seemed to fit, and you seemed pleased and open to it, and I was happy, and now you don't seem to like it. At all. And, you know. I've been rejected a few times and it just doesn't get any easier." Her lower lip trembles and she raises clear blue eyes to Addison, who sighs.
"Meredith –"
"You don't have to explain, really. I just feel a little . . . worn." And it's true – she does look a little worn out. For a vacation that was supposed to cheer her up, it didn't really do anything except make her a little whiter; the circles around her eyes a little deeper. And Addison feels responsible. She bows her head.
"I'm sorry that it couldn't have worked." Her voice is light; her words are simple, but her face says it all and Meredith suddenly looks desperately hopeful.
"Can't it just work for now?"
"Like a week-long stand?"
"Yeah. Essentially." Meredith shoots a sideways look at Addison and swallows. "Or, you know. We don't have to do that."
"Meredith, why do you want this?"
There's a pause; it's filled by the sound of the waves and the cool kiss of the breeze off the water. Meredith fiddles, annoyingly, with her fingers again and Addison slides her cool palm over the thin hand. "Meredith?
"Because you want to take care of me. Because you're aware that I break . . . but you don't make it into a big deal. And you don't expect me to fit into any molds. You're aware that it's just me, and somehow, although I don't know how, it's enough. For you. It's enough for you."
"But I live in L.A. now."
"And I live in Seattle. And this is nice, but my skin tends to burn. And the breeze makes me cold." Sure enough, there are goosebumps on her arms, and Addison rises to get a blanket, but Meredith gets up with her and follows her to the blanket box, leaning down and resting her cheek on Addison's shoulders.
Addison straightens gently and then turns, putting her arms around Meredith. "Do you want to go inside?"
"Yeah."
They head in through the sliding door and Addison reaches around Meredith to close the door; when her hair brushes by Meredith's cheek, Meredith reaches out and draws Addison close to kiss her.
Addison's first instinct is to push Meredith away. But the smaller woman's lips are soft, and she sort of gets lost in the intricacies of Meredith's tongue movements and the way her hand flexes on Addison's back. And Addison finds herself thinking that even though this is all inherently wrong, Meredith is a good kisser. It's just that she didn't want this to happen pressed up against her sliding glass door. She tries to gently steer Meredith away from the window, but Meredith misinterprets and breaks away from Addison.
"Is it – ?"
"No. Come on." Addison puts a hand on Meredith's back and inwardly wishes that the smaller woman would be a little more confident in herself.
They climb the stairs; Addison's hands travel around Meredith's waist to hold her securely against her chest. It's harder for the two to walk, but Meredith, who's naturally clumsy, feels like she can walk without doing anything stupid when Addison's holding her up.
They get to the bed and they kiss and take off clothes in a tantalizing way, and everything's progressing nicely until Addison feels Meredith's clumsy attempts at trying to pleasure her.
"No, no, no. Grey. No." She takes Meredith's fingers away. "No. You're being too rough and trying too hard."
Meredith looks stricken. "Oh, my God. I'm totally bad at this, aren't I? I always thought it would come naturally and I've never been bad in bed and now you're telling me that it's too rough . . ."
Addison rolls her eyes for what feels like the fifteenth time that night. "No. I haven't really experienced enough sex with you to determine if you're bad in bed or not. But that was not sexy." She takes Meredith's hands and puts them on her own breasts. "Now, just relax."
Addison's tongue slides down Meredith's clavicle and over her nipples, which grow erect under the ministrations. When Addison does touch her fingers to Meredith's clit, the younger woman draws a sharp intake of breath and curls her hands over Addison's breasts, moving them to her back.
From there, it's natural. She bucks against Addison's touch; Addie sucks at Meredith's nipples and moves eventually down to lick at her, causing the girl to come in a matter of minutes, and much more violently than she's come in a long time.
They break apart, breathing hard, and Meredith falls back against the pillow. "Wow. Okay."
"Now, you see? You were trying too hard. You have to alternate light pressure with the right touch."
Meredith nods seriously and then realizes that this is sex that they're talking about, and laughs. "Okay."
Addison places Meredith's fingers back where they were. "Now. Go."
The second time, it goes much more smoothly. And from what Addison can see, Meredith seems excited, like she's ever taken so much pleasure in making someone come before.
She stands against the light in the morning, enjoying the feel of the soft wind through her hair when Meredith comes out and stands beside her on the deck.
"I used to hate early mornings. Then, I had to do rounds. Suddenly, getting up early didn't seem so horrible when there were cases to get."
"Yeah." There's only the sound of the gulls and of the waves, and Addison turns towards the door. "Well, I've got work."
Unexpectedly, Meredith squints against the light and then starts to cry. Addison sighs. "Oh, Meredith."
"Well, I know it's stupid." She sniffles. "But I still just don't get it. It's beautiful and I don't know why it has to end now."
"Because it couldn't last." Addison's voice is gentle, but they both know it's true. Addison clasps the younger woman in her arms and holds her tightly for a moment. "And really, Meredith, how would we explain this to Derek?"
"Fuck Derek!" Now, Meredith is clawing at her face a bit and Addison puts a hand over the clenched fist and makes a ssshh sound.
"Seriously. It's silly. And you're so much stronger than having a long-distance relationship that's so fragile."
"Is it because I'm not good enough? Like, I'm not pretty or something?"
There's a pause, where Meredith buries her face in Addison's shoulder and listens to the older woman's breathing.
And then,
"No, of course that's not it."
Another pause. Meredith says nothing.
"I just don't think I want to be tied to someone who might never come back."
And there it is. "There's just not enough faith for this, I guess."
"No. There isn't. But it doesn't mean that I don't find you attractive, or sweet, or in need of someone to take care of you. I just can't be that person and still help you heal."
Which is fair, really, thinks Addison, although Meredith clearly doesn't think so. But like anyone else, she values honesty, and after a moment, she nods. "Okay."
"You can't use me to move on."
"You can't use ME to move on."
They stand and then they both break a little and cling, just to the moment and to the light and the sound of the sea.
"I never hated you, you know."
"I know."
It might not be able to last, but it's there at that moment – and at least there's that moment.