a/n (p1): mark and addison have never been together, addison and derek were married but aren't anymore, and there will be multiple ships in this but it is primarily mark/addison, some (okay, a lot or even most) of the history is different
a/n (p2): read anything by lynn ( sliceofperfection ) and you won't regret it; my personal fav is sick cycle carousal
When Mark was little, he'd wanted to be a jedi. There was a certain fascination with the entire idea, the overall belief that the world would be about space and honor by the time he was an adult. But when his mom died, everything seemed to shatter around him. His dad became this person he didn't know anymore, a man that he's been trying to forget ever since. All he learned was how he didn't want to behave when he became an adult.
He has morals, a few fucked up ones, but he still has them; he's loyal to his friends and he kind of knows what love is. He's never really been in love, but he supposes he's probably been close a few times. In all reality, the closest he's ever been is Addison.
He was in love with her for most of his adult life (note: maybe even still is), but he'd learned to suppress it for them all. He thinks it was the best decision because he walked away with two best friends rather than losing it all. He thinks it's a great thing, really.
But there is this loom around his heart because he's never truly expressed his love for another human being. He tries not to think about how life might have been when he lies awake at night, tries not to get angry at the way things good be. He's a little frustrated that things aren't currently going his way, but he's heard the saying Rome wasn't built in a day.
His dad used to tell him that patience was a virtue (only when it happened to benefit his father was it actually a virtue in their household), but Mark was never really one to have patience. Or he just didn't bother to think about things that didn't affect him much. He understands that things take time, that these things don't just happen overnight, but when he wants something he wants it right now.
Addison has told him for years that it isn't that simple; usually, he can smirk and tell her that it's already happened or is getting ready to.
But having a baby takes a substantial amount of time. Typically, it could take months or even years to find a woman worth being tied to for the entirety of his life, one who possess' great qualities that are ideal to have as part of his child's dna, not mention a woman he can stand to be around for 5 full minutes with the potential of okay conversation. Luckily for him, his best friend wants a baby too and they can do this together; he already knows everything about her, all of her good and bad qualities, and he loves her and her likes her. He thought that was the hard part.
One round of neutral ivf and one more of mild ivf, they still don't haven't procreated the perfect little fetus (even though he has grown quite attached to Zachary). For the last month (more like 17 days), he's been sticking a needle into her hip and giving her a hormone shot to increase fertility. He doesn't really get what's going on or why he needs to do it because he didn't make it to the appointment that day, but he does what he's told. She tells him to stab her and he forces a wild grin on his face in an attempt to make her squirm; she promptly smacks him on the chest and tells him to cut it out.
On day 18, the alarm on his phone goes off at 7:30pm just as it has for the last 17 days. He leans forward in his seat from the couch and motions for her to come over. She doesn't seem to smile as like usual.
He pulls at the waistband of her pants and looks up at her, reaching for the needle and syringe in her hand, "what's wrong, babe?"
"Nothing," she replies absently as he cleans the area, "just, what if all of this is for nothing? What if it doesn't work?"
"Oh, honey," he says without thinking; he tosses the alcohol wipe onto the coffee table and removes the needle cap with his teeth, "don't say things like that. We have to think positively. We haven't reached our last hope yet. You are beautiful and brilliant and an amazing person. We're going to have a baby."
"But it's been four months. We're on our third attempt of ivf," she replies sadly, inhaling deep when he pushes the needle into her skin - it never gets any easier no matter how many times it's been done, "what if this doesn't work?"
"We can always try the old-fashioned way," he replies with a shrug and a smirk.
Her eyes narrow in his direction and he removes the needle with ease; he's basically a pro at hormone shots now.
"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're just trying to get into my pants," she counters.
"Oh, please. Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery, you're the love of my life," he says teasingly. He caps the needle and tosses it onto the coffee table beside the alcohol pad, pushing his hands against her back just above her waistline to pull her into his lap. He offers her a genuine smile and tucks a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Listen, Addie, I love you and you deserve good things in the world. I will do everything within my power to be sure we have this baby. I mean, Derek and Meredith had one accident, I'm pretty sure we can have one on purpose."
"But what if I'm not meant to be a mom?" She asks him.
"We've been over this a thousand times, you're meant to be a mom. I've never met anyone more inspiring, more beautiful, more gentle, or more intelligent," he pauses, entwining his fingers with hers as she finally settles in his lap, "I've never met anyone like you before, Addison, and I never will."
She drops her forehead onto his and he takes the opportunity to offer her a small smile as her eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. He lightly presses his lips into hers, pulling away just as quickly as they'd touched. Just a small peck, like they've done thousands of times - sometimes even when she was married to Derek. No one ever really thought anything of it.
But he feels her hands slide through his hair, fingertips pressing into the nape of his neck, and he becomes acutely aware of the warmth of her breath and the heat radiating off of her lips. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it, especially lately. He swallows a thick film of saliva, eyes drifting closed.
"If it's the last thing I do, I will make sure you become a mother," he adds, breathlessly.
He doesn't know what's gotten into him, doesn't know how to push her away when he feels her lips suddenly collide with his, her hot tears splashing onto his face. He gulps as he pushes his hands around her back as if second nature, his elbows sliding against each other as he pulls her body into his. Her tongue sweeps over his slightly parted lips as his fingertips find her hair, the close proximity of her taking over his brain.
Over the past few months, they've been drawn together more and more. The absent touching, the lips inching closer only to find another course at the last second, is all something that's been building up and driving him crazy. Most of the time, it's without thinking and only later does he look back and trace every movement either of them made.
As his tongue touches hers he remembers the briefest of moments when they were drunk years ago and she was crying because her and Derek were getting a divorce and she felt like she was losing a limb. It's less and more than he remembers at the same time, the way her mouth clings to his and her fingers dig into his scalp. Both times remind him of desperation, both a different kind of desperation in their own way.
The way she's clinging to him makes him feel that she needs him but he isn't sure what she needs him for. He's always needed her in a way, always wanted her but he's never really had her. Or maybe he has - just not like this.
His fingers slip passed the hem of her blouse, her skin warm beneath his fingertips as his hand slides up her spine. He feels her shiver against him, breath hitching as her lips still against his mouth. He prepares for her to stop whatever they're doing, for her to think it's a mistake.
He doesn't even know what to call something that hasn't even happened yet.
He closes his eyes and leans his chest into her, fingers splaying out against her skin as the fingernail of his index finger taps against the metal hooks of her bra. Her teeth nip at the corners of his mouth and it's a bit unexpected, a side of Addison he's never really received before. His lips curve upwards against hers, her hands tracing the dents in his arms where his muscles exist.
He absently tugs at the material between them, calloused fingertips gripping the silk harder than he should so a button flies off from the bottom. He feels her snarl against his mouth but he presses his lips harder against hers to keep her from protesting about the state of her clothing. His tongue collides with her teeth as he swallows a brief protest; it doesn't take her much encouragement to slide her tongue against his.
He feels her tug on the hem of his sweater, her nails digging in to his skin as she pulls at his clothing, the feeling of her flat stomach arching into his hand. He releases a groan of pretest as she pulls away, Addison's determination to pull his shirt off something that's difficult for him to ignore, and as she does he slides his hand beneath her ass and guides her legs around his waist. Pushing himself to his feet and managing to steady them as he kicks off his shoes, she releases the smallest of giggles.
He grunts as her teeth find his neck, lips circling the skin and her tongue sliding in exquisite circles, and he can feel his flesh pulsating somewhere to the point that his esophagus constricts when he swallows. He doesn't really hear himself growl until he nearly trips over a laptop cord and reacts quick enough to grasp her tightly with one arm and extend his hand with the other. His fingertips catch the doorframe before his palm flattens against the painted wood, his nails catching in places where the wood is beginning to chip.
She releases a gentle moan as he plants open mouthed, wet kisses against her throat. He only closes his eyes for a brief moment as he steps forward, not the best of ideas, and he runs into his bedroom door - her body slamming hard into the faux wood. He's surprised when she sucks in a deep breath just mere inches from his ear, the noise prompting him to swallow a gulp of air and nearly choke on oxygen. Her fingers trail over his chest between them and he wonders if she can feel his heart beat through his ribcage.
He twists his doorknob, the door opening so fast and hard that it collides with the wall. It's a moment that he isn't thinking that brings him into his bedroom, the idea of having her writhing below him beneath his sheets penetrating into his brain by the time he climbs over her on the bed. He drops his lips to hers as she unbuttons her shirt, quickly following her lead and finding the zipper on the skirt. With a motion that indicates a perfect amount of practice, he tugs downward on the zipper and pinches at the hem of her skirt to pull it down her endless legs; he pretends not to see the smallest bits of surprise on her face as he tosses her clothing onto the floor.
His pants tighten around his pelvis as the blood flows more towards the head of his penis, the way the light from the street sneaks into the room and highlights her frame causing his erection to rub against his boxers. He watches her bite her bottom lip and he fleetingly thinks that he's never seen anything sexier. He silently reprimands himself at the realization that her fingers are undoing the button his pants.
He gulps, lowering his mouth to hers and pressing his hands against the mattress on either side of her head to keep him from placing all of his weight on her. He places a trail of kisses from her mouth to the skin of her breast spilling over the wire of her bra, finally forcing himself to breathe and trail his hand down her front. He swipes his tongue over her skin, teeth absently dragging just below her underwire, and he hears her breathing pick up at the feel of his hot breath on her damp skin.
With a delicate touch, shaky fingertips even, he expels a breath and loops his fingers around the waistband of her panties. He tugs downward to expose more of her skin and he thinks for a second that his heart has stopped beating or he's only imagining things. She moves in front of him, pushing her torso off of the mattress to touch his lips with her own as she unhooks her bra; he grins against her mouth, sliding his hands beneath her ass so he can tug her clothing off.
As they both toss the clothing on the floor, he perches himself between her legs and meets her lips with a fierce kiss. Unable to hold himself back anymore, he pushes at his black dress pants with one hand as he balances himself with the other one; he kicks his leg out in an attempt to weasel out of his pants and he releases a sigh of relief into her mouth when she laughs a little and offers him two helping hands. His fingertips immediately press into her calf so he can trail his fingertips up her leg.
He slips a hand between them; the middle finger of his left hand dipping inside of her and moving up her clit before smoothing over her hip. He feels her hands wrap around his torso, fingers squeezing his skin at the muscles in his lower back and her nails leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin. Their mouths part for a moment as he slides his nose along hers, inhaling a deep breath. His thumb glides over her erect nipple, her breath sharp against his cheek.
Her mouth touches his jaw and his hips thrust, causing his erection to get closer to her opening. He releases a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan against her throat, his thumb circling her hipbone. She arches into his touch, encouraging him to drive himself into her. She moans against his jaw as he slips his fingers into her hair; his breath entwines with hers for a moment before he rolls his hips. He almost forgets to breathe when she pushes at his chin to tilt his head upward, her mouth almost immediately closing around his jutted bottom lip.
He glides his hand between them and pushes his index finger against her clit. She breaks their lips apart in a rush, her teeth gritting together as he thrusts forward. Mark presses his elbow against the mattress, the thumb of his free hand sliding against her jaw line. He offers her a small smile as he keeps pumping himself in and out of her; he pushes his tongue into his bottom lip as he continues to make circles with his finger.
He hears her cry out against his neck, burying her face into the crook of it. He pulls his hand up to her nipple, fingertips tightening around it before he sinks his teeth into her throat. He drags his tongue across her skin in small circles before pulling back. Her fingertips scratch up his back until she buries them into his hair.
She meets his thrusts and it seems to become a blur and go by faster because she begins to mutter incoherent words that he's sure neither of them will remember and his heart begins to speed up with every movement. He grunts as she releases a scream that he's sure the neighbors will hear (but he will deny it if Callie or Arizona happens to ask), and the way her muscles spasm around him makes him thrust one more time before he's spilling himself inside of her. He can't remember how to breathe, can't remember where he ends or she begins and if he were to actively think about it he would probably like it that way.
When he finally forces himself to breathe in through his nose and out of his mouth he kisses her again, this time not bothering to let it be rushed as he absently traces the shape of her mouth. She doesn't push him away and neither of them makes it seem cheap as they finally laugh while still capturing their breaths. Eventually, after conversations about nothing and everything at the same time (except no one is bringing up the baby subject), he rolls his body into hers and slides his arm around her waist; he couldn't be bothered to kick her out of his bed even though he's sure hers is much more comfortable.
She is Addison, after all.
Jake thinks he's a pretty assertive guy, understanding to say the least, but he has a habit of opening his mouth and inserting his opinion when it isn't asked. He doesn't know very many people in the city, so when his new boss (Derek) asked him if he'd like to help him move with the rest of the guys he went ahead and agreed. Something about pizza and beer even though that isn't really his thing, but that's what guys do.
Since his wife died he hasn't made much of an effort to make friends with too many people. Now that Angie is off to college he doesn't have much of a choice but to get out there an associate himself with people. He isn't just a dad anymore, and every time she calls she asks him if he's met any friends; he laughs because she makes it sound so easy to be the parent - she's always worried about his well being.
The day has been pretty busy, but at least most of Meredith and Derek's furniture is new and being delivered by a company. Mark's laughter echoes throughout the garage as he and Derek carry the only bed that made it from one house to the next. He hears Mark say you should have let Addison come decorate, you know she'd take over; Derek counters with a laugh and I did that once, it's your turn now.
Jake lightly shakes his head to try ridding thoughts of the only woman who has caught his attention since his wife died. He isn't too proud to have a small crush on a woman who is his boss, let alone a patient who is trying to have a baby with his other boss. He lifts a hand and absently wipes at the beads of sweat lining his forehead despite the chill making it's way in through all of the open doors.
He spots Henry taking a seat out of the corner of his eye, the only person he's never met before being him, and the guy seems to be breathing heavy; he takes a step in his direction, "you okay?"
"Yeah," Henry replies with a nod and a hand, "I have a tumor. Breathing is hard sometimes."
"Do you need me to do anything?" He asks.
Henry laughs a little, "nah, I'm just going to have Mark take me home in a few."
"Let me know if there's anything I can do," he says.
Owen kind of hates himself right now for holding his wife's hand while they aborted their baby. He wants kids, he wants to be a dad but Cristina just won't see things his way. He doesn't get how she couldn't want to be a mom; if she really loved him, she'd have a baby with him.
He thinks there's more to it, her reasoning for not having kids. He's never asked, thinks that if she wanted him to know then she would tell him. He shouldn't have to ask for her to tell him things.
So, when he gets home and she looks a bit too smug, his blood boils beneath the surface because he's beginning to hate her as much as he hates himself. He doesn't want to. She's still a brilliant, beautiful creature - she's just so agitating. After spending all day around kids, around men who are dads and who have the opportunity to be dads, he just can't contain himself anymore.
He's ripping off the band aid and picking at the scab; the moment he says anything about a baby, she's out the door and he's pretty sure Meredith and Derek don't get to spend the first night in their new home alone.
Amelia Shepherd rolls her eyes at Kathleen managing to control the group - that's 22 people that she's bossing around, including their mother. Her mom gets it and just offers her a tight smile before wrapping an arm around her middle. She leans into her mother's shoulder and returns the sentiment, draping an arm over her shoulder; she's still her mommy's girl, even though they fight because she's rebellious and is an all around fuck up.
Secretly, she likes to think that she's her mother's favorite too. Not that Carolyn would ever say it out loud. But Mama Shep (as Mark calls her) has a knack for making all of her children believe that she's their favorite. Lucky for her, she just got mommyto herself more than the others.
Amelia smiles as she wraps her other arm around her mom, the only ones without a partner.
"I love you, Mom," Amelia says quietly.
Her mom laughs, "I love you too, baby girl."
She can't help the tug that pulls at the corner of her mouth because she's the only one who gets that nickname. It makes her feel special and warm and fuzzy. In all honesty, she's still a kid seeking that love that sometimes only her mother can give her. But she misses her big brother.
She can't believe he has a baby now. Even more than that, she hates that she hasn't seen him yet. She has 9 nieces and 5 nephews, but she'd always known she'd be especially attached to Derek's kids. She just hopes that she's Zachary's favorite. She can't wait to meet Zachary Alan Shepherd; from the pictures she's seen, he's already much cuter than her brother was.
She makes a note to tell Derek that.
She's going to spend all night trying to hog that little boy because while her sisters and their husbands are going to a hotel with their kids, she's going to her brother's house with her mom. She's almost certain that's when she'll win Zachary over, that's if Addison hasn't already deemed herself his favorite aunt. Kathleen's husband Richard grabs her bag and assures her that he'll make sure it gets into Derek's hands, so she concedes and just walks with her arms around her mother; they've finally bridged that gap between them.
First thing in the morning, she'll be sure to wake up Mark and Addison at the crack of dawn.
Addison wakes up with a start, refreshed like she'd slept for weeks or even months, but glancing at the clock she notices she got maybe 6 hours of sleep at most. She stretches and rolls over, pleased to see that Mark is still in bed with her even though she tries not to think too much of it. She doesn't know how to put into words what's going on or what's happening or where this is all coming from; all that she knows is that she likes it.
She scoots to the middle of the bed where he's sprawled out on his stomach, just like he's been sleeping for the past 5 nights, and she slides a hand around his torso. Her fingertips tease at his hipbone as she pushes her breasts into his back and presses her lips into his shoulder blade. She plants a trail of lazy, open mouthed kisses to just below his ear.
She hears a muffled laugh come from his mouth as her teeth nip at his skin, and his hand catches her by the wrist when her fingertips brush over his skin just above the waistband of his boxers. She sees him peel an eye open as he shifts a little below her; she smiles against his neck when she extends her fingers and brushes her nails over the skin of his stomach. He releases a heavy breath as she twists her hand and swirls her tongue against a patch of skin beyond her open lips in an attempt to distract him enough to free her arm.
"Woman, you better stop," he warns. She releases a quiet laugh against his skin before she sinks her teeth into the skin just between his neck and shoulder. She sucks on his skin, teasing the area with her tongue until she hears a noise somewhere between the word ohand a moan fall out of his mouth. He clears his throat, "you better stop that too, or else."
She smirks, "or else what?"
He tilts his head to catch sight of her devious facial expression, red hair cupping the lines of her jaw, and he lightly shakes his head. Her hand slips beneath the waistband of his boxers and he can't find it in him to protest, not really; he sharply inhales at the feel of her fingertips sliding over his shaft. She feels him gulp against her nose and she pulls back to look at his face with an elusive grin.
"I'm warning you," he reminds her.
"What are you going to do? Punish me?" She asks on the boarder of seductively.
"Heh," he mutters. He rolls over beneath her, her nipples sliding over his skin in a way that practically takes his breath away. He tilts his head to the side as she hovers over him, lips parted and moist. "Are you asking me to punish you, Doctor Montgomery?"
"Maybe," she replies, hand still wrapped around him.
He smirks and reaches down for her wrist. Grasping both of her wrists, he rolls over watches her mouth turn into a pout beneath him as the spot on his neck starts to pulsate. He has half a mind to return the favor but he's sure there will be more time for that later - instead, he drops his lips to her skin to paint a trail of moisture down her torso as he manages to rid her of her underwear.
His fingers clasp her thighs as he presses his mouth towards her center, tongue darting out. He hears her breath quicken in the stillness of the room as he curls his tongue around her clit, dipping a finger inside of her. She arches upward and he can't contain the laugh that escapes him, knowing that if he isn't careful he might just miss out. He flits his tongue against her a few more times as he pushes the waistband of his boxers over his hips.
Her fingertips grasp his shoulder and he slowly teases her a bit more before he climbs up her body. He slides into her with ease, his mouth closing around hers as he thrusts. It doesn't take very much for either of them, really, and they both come with a laugh that tickles their lips. Slowly, he tilts his head down and touches her forehead with his own, lips pressing at the corners of her mouth.
"I didn't know sex could be so good," she mumbles against his mouth.
"I warned you," he says with a laugh.
"Yet, you're the one with a bruise," she replies with a smirk of her own.
He narrows his eyes at her and rolls off of her; "I wonder whose fault that is."
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it."
He throws his legs over the side of the bed to stand up and pull his boxers back up. He watches her feel for her underwear before she finally finds the pair and he pick up his shirt from the night before. He definitely thinks her bed is more comfortable. He won't make that mistake again. He starts to leave her bedroom but she catches him by the arm, tugs him in her direction. When their mouths meet she takes the shirt from his hand and it makes him laugh into her kiss.
She pulls it on over her head when there's a knock at the front door; his eyebrows furrow, "I'll get it."
He unlocks the door and feels her arms slide over his torso with a laugh muffled by his skin. He likes seeing her happy, that much he's certain of. Mark opens the door and his mouth drops open to see Amelia on the other side.
"Oh my god, Amy," Addison nearly shrieks.
"Oh my god," Amelia agrees, "unless there's two more people in there, you guys just had sex."
Amelia smirks and Mark can't even count the seconds on his fingers before Addison has pulled her inside and slammed the door behind her; he knows there's no way Amelia will be convinced otherwise. He finally looks at Addison in the daylight and realizes that with her wearing his shirt and the way she has sex hair, they are in trouble. He can't help but laugh out loud.
Addison glares; he just encircles her in his arms because he finds her entire demeanor adorable.
Jackson Avery doesn't have it as easy as all of his friends thinks he does. His grandfather is Harper Avery. His mother is Catherine Avery. Both have penetrated the medical field so hard that he almost doesn't even stand a chance.
He's lucky to have a teacher in Mark Sloan who not only challenges him, but allows him the opportunity to receive a challenge on a daily basis. He, however, is dreading the day that his mother meets his teacher. Both can be big headed, neither willing to listen to anyone else to an extent that it could be a knock down, drag out fight.
He thought that maybe he'd finally gotten something right when he started dating Lexie. She was smart and funny and beautiful and he fell in love with her despite their best attempts at not trying to be anything. He really thought he could see himself with her for the rest of his life. In fact, he had considered proposing to her.
That was until she walked in on her sharing a bed with his best friend. He gets it. He knew that Lexie and Alex were a thing. Maybe they never stopped being a thing. Maybe he was the one who didn't get it and thought they were something that they really weren't. Maybe, just maybe.
Either way, he drinks hard liquor now.
He downs another glass full of scotch (Mark says that's a drink for men), and when he slams the glass on the counter that's when he locks eyes with her. He misses the way she smells. One day, maybe one day he'll get over her.
He swallows, taking his pride with his saliva; he makes his way across the bar to where she is sitting, "hey."
"Hi," she mutters in return.
He can tell that she is ashamed about everything that's happened. He doesn't want to be an asshole. He isn't that guy and he never will be.
"I'm sorry about everything that happened," he releases a breath in the air between them. "I hope you're happy with Alex."
He offers her a small smile to show her that he means it. Her face softens and her gaze falls away from his. She lightly shakes her head, "we aren't seeing each other anymore."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he replies; he decides to swallow everything and be the bigger man, taking the seat at the bar next to hers.
"I just," Callie starts shakily; Arizona knows what's coming next - "I just think it's a conversation worth revisiting. I mean, if we're going to make this work. We have to make this-"
And Arizona stops listening. It isn't that she doesn't love Callie, because she does with her whole heart, it's that she that Callie deserves...better. She deserves someone who wants the same things she wants at least. Arizona thinks that everyone deserves at least that.
She doesn't know how to say what needs to be said, how to point out that at the end of the day it just isn't enough. It shouldn't be enough for anyone and as much as she wants to say she's going to spend the rest of her life with this woman, she can't say that because Callie wants kids. She doesn't. It isn't a crime. Some women just don't want kids.
"Callie," she says forcefully. She isn't going to keep strong on this one. She's going to be crying by the time she's done talking. "I got the grant in Africa. I didn't think that I would, but I did. I'm leaving next week to go visit my parents for the holidays. From there, I'm flying to Africa."
"What?" Callie's eyebrows furrow in question; Arizona hates herself, she really does.
She drops her gaze to the material of the couch, pretending like she can still see through the tears forming in her eyes.
Derek insists on having Thanksgiving at their newly built house, saying that it has plenty of room and more importantly, parking places. His argument was only somewhat sane because the invite list was extended to basically everyone they know, which is a lot of people. When Mark told Carolyn, she had a scowl on her face until he reassured her that he was going to help her cook.
Addison volunteered to help, but they all laughed in response. Mark pointed his finger at her and said you're funny, you're a funny girland kissed her nose. He's pretty sure that she huffed and puffed for 3 days. So, their apartment was empty because they stayed the night before Thanksgiving at Derek and Meredith's to help cook.
Helping really means Derek doing whatever Carolyn or Mark told him to do while Mark reads from a cookbook and Carolyn cooks from memory. Derek grins at his mother every time she absently grumbles about the 48 people she is cooking for while Mark reassures that there will be plenty of food. Of course, Addison hovers in a way that she stays silent while being in the way, reading her magazine and sipping on her glass of wine. (Mark and Derek both insists she drink for the occasion while she encourages them to be discreet because she doesn't want Derek's mom to know yet.)
Amelia starts out in the kitchen but when she and Addison go to join Meredith in showering Zachary with attention, Amelia never makes it back. Mark watches Addison's smile touch the corners of her eyes and it makes him smile a little too; if Carolyn notices anything, she doesn't say so. It's almost midnight when Carolyn says that she's going to go to bed because she has to get up early to finish all of the things that can't be done.
Mark turns around and Derek's gone too, so it's just him left to bake half of the desserts. He thinks that he may be able to make Addison help him. But when he opens his mouth to talk, he can tell by the way her mouth is turned that she has no intention on helping him cook.
"Stop being so lazy," he says.
His lips form into a smirk when she narrows her eyes at him. He leaves her alone while he gets one dessert finished, lets her flip through another magazine but when he puts the first round of pies in the oven he has a better idea. Rounding the island in the middle of the kitchen, he reaches around her middle and pulls her off of the stool, careful to make sure she lands on her feet.
"What do you think you're doing?" She asks, a hint of teasing lined in her voice.
He guides her back around to where he was mixing ingredients together, pinning her between himself and the counter; "making you help. Just because you're pretty doesn't mean you don't have to help."
"Why not? I was enjoying my show," she replies with a shrug.
"You'll enjoy this too," he counters with a smile, "I promise."
She rolls her neck on her shoulders when he slides his fingers down her arms, circling his hands around hers as he presses his cheek into hers. Her breath hitches in her throat as his lips linger against the skin of her neck, the warmth of his body creating an orb of heat to surround the chills on her skin. She tries to clear her throat.
"Stop that," she tells him. She finally huffs in mock exasperation while trying to hold in a laugh, set against giving him the validation that he might be getting somewhere. His fingers entwine with hers, his palms pressing into the back of her hands. She pouts a little, "I thought you wanted to make pie, not fuck me in your best friend's kitchen."
"Maybe I want to do both," he replies with ease, grin sliding onto his mouth.
"You can't always get what you want," she challenges.
He leans more against her, lips pressing against her ear lobe, "but you can try sometimes."
She laughs a little as his fingers curl around hers, a sigh escaping her mouth at the feel of his grin against her skin. She shakes her head in an attempt to get the hair out of her face, ultimately being forced to lift their entwined hands to do it. Before she can tuck the hair behind her ear, he's extending his index finger and sliding it through her hair. His fingers tighten around hers, their bodies swaying as he guides her hips to rock from side to side.
"What are we doing?" She asks gently.
"Well, I am doing everything I can to make sure this pretty girl knows I exist and she is successfully teasing me without even trying," he answers; expelling a breath against her skin, he feels her lean a little more heavily against her. She swallows, wondering how to tell him that it isn't true without making it something bigger than it really is. He breathes her in, his nostrils catching the smell of her perfume, "you smell nice."
"Chanel," she supplies.
"Good to know," he whispers huskily as he drops his lips to her neck. He hears her make a noise deep in the bellows of her throat and he takes it as an invitation for him to slide their hands over her torso, fingertips tapping just below her breasts. He's been trying so hard not to be distracted by her presence all evening. "Do you want me to stop?"
She gulps, "no, not really."
Her admission makes him grin, and he knows that there's a number of people who can walk in at any moment; part of the thrill of peeling her clothes off and pushing her against the counter while covering her mouth to keep her from screaming too loud is enough to make it end before he knows it. He laughs against her skin, not knowing how they ended up having the inability to do anything but that when they are alone. He's starting to forget that they started doing this to make a baby.
Afterwards, Addison sees Amelia watching television on the couch and a flush goes to her cheeks.
There are nearly two thousand conversations going on at once, tension spread throughout the room despite Derek's best efforts. His mom is irritated because she spent most of the day before and the morning cooking for a number of people she doesn't know. He wishes everyone would lighten up and have a better time. He thinks that at least Mark and Addison are having a great time, even if it means having to ignore that they seem a bit closer than usual.
His little sister has been missing for the last half hour and he's overcome with concern. It's been difficult for him to get over everything that has happened with her and accept that maybe she's fully recovered. Although Amelia and his mom seem to have made up, he still worries that maybe he doesn't know everything. Ever since their dad died he's tried to look out for her.
He excuses himself from the table, glancing at Amelia's empty seat, and offers everyone a small, hopefully convincing smile. Knocking on doors, he finally gets a muffled reply from the bathroom in the hallway downstairs. He swallows and sighs, hoping he doesn't have to break the door down.
"Amy, let me in," he yells through the door.
"Just a minute."
"Is everything all right?"
"Yes," she yells back, her voice sounds strained.
He releases a sigh of exasperation and reaches above the door, feeling for the key. Finding it, he shoves the key into the lock and hears the metal pop. He twists the door open and sees something that he wasn't prepared for.
Derek mutters, "oh my god."
Amelia tucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she struggles to straighten her clothing out and Alex pulls his pants up, the metal of his belt clacking together. She scrubs her face with her fingertips as Alex smirks. She wants to smack the look off of his face.
"Look, Derek-"
"I can't believe it. In my house? During dinner?"
There's a crowd forming just inside the dining room and she can't even spot her mom hiding her face anymore; she feels defensive, "me? Mark and Addison had sex in your kitchen last night."
Mark clears his throat and claps his hands together, "so, who wants dessert?"
Derek's eyes flit from Alex and Amelia to Mark and Addison (noting that she's as red as he's ever seen her and attempting to hide her face in Mark's shoulder). Derek can't figure out what to say because none of this is something that he expected to hear today. Finally, his eyes settle on Mark.
"What exactly is safe to eat?"
