Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or anything remotely attached to this show, only the basis of this story.


CHAPTER FOUR
THE DEVELOPMENT


"Your sisters will be coming into town on Wednesday." Amelia tells her nonchalantly, eyes focused on her iPhone and walking three steps ahead of her.

April attempts to run forward in her heels to catch up with the brunette, perring around into her face. "My sisters? Here?!"

The older women shuts off her phone and raises a brow in curiosity at the redhead's uneasy expression.

"Yes. Why?" She drags out the question, squinting an eye in her direction sharply.

"Isn't that a little bit soon? I mean I haven't even practiced what I'm supposed to tell people yet?"

"We've got it covered, April. You don't need to worry." Amelia rests a hand on the younger woman's arm reassuringly. "We'll rehearse it all and by the time they get here, the whole city will already believe it so three regular midwestern folk won't doubt it for a second."

April fakes a smile, ignores the partial insult. "Okay." She nods, tries for a relieved sigh, "Where is Jackson, by the way? I thought he was supposed to be here."

"He's five minutes away. In traff-" She holds a finger out then, pointing towards the entrance door, "Ah, Avery!"

"Hey." The green eyed man pulls the neatly folded out from under his arms and shrugs it on casually, smiling in April's direction. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good. I've just never been photographed before." She admits and he grins knowingly, moving closer to her and grabbing her hand.

He checks his watch briefly before threading his fingers through her own and getting her to follow his lead. "It's a simple interview. She's just going to ask you a few questions. You know, where you're from, how we met, what your thoughts are on such a certain topic." He licks his top lip with a slight shrug, "You'll do great. Just smile and look pretty."

"Great." April mumbles, feeling her hand slip out of his grasp when a woman holds her shoulders and urges her down into one of two seats on a comfortable looking sofa. It's small and padded and oh-so-very-fancy.

She applies a basic lipstick over the redhead's lips, brushes a little rose blusher of her cheeks, perfects the way her hair red locks hang and frame her face, then she curls April's lips into a forced smile before stepping away from the focus. "On three."

The blonde woman who goes by the last name of Stevens starts talking then, legs crossed like a true lady and eyes shiny and wide and inviting.

April feels like curling up into a ball as she sits across from the woman. She's a fraud. She's not supposed to be wearing these clothes and faking romance and earning a heck of a living through a well fabricated lie.

The journalist, Izzie Stevens, has been talking to Jackson

"Now, you, April. You've had quite an interesting week. Tell us about you guys, about how you met."

They're rehearsed this. They've practiced.

"I was working in his office, actually. On the new campaign, I was-" She pauses to smile and push her hair behind her ears, not too fancily, not too carelessly. They rehearsed this. "I think I was supposed to photocopy some files from Mark, Mark Sloan, and I had only been there for about a week or so and I hadn't needed to copy anything yet, you know? And I didn't want to ask anybody because they were all so hard at work for this guy-"

April taps a hand against Jackson's leg, fingertips resting on his knee, beaming smile on her face.

"And I just kind of walked around and he- Well, I bumped into him, really. He was kind enough to help me to the copy room and then he just wouldn't leave." She teases, glancing over at Jackson from the corner of her eye.

"So can we say this was love at first sight?"

"Maybe love after five minutes." April jokes smoothly, feeling her husband nudge her side softly. "He took a little warming up to." She nods her head with a grin and feels his hands reach across her lap to grasp her hand, wrapping his fingers through her own.

Izzie takes a few notes before she continues, "And the rest is history?"

"The rest speaks for itself." Jackson pipes in, breaking April's stride of having to answer all questions.

"Alright, so tell me, why did it take so long for this news to get out? I mean, Jackson, I'm sure Webber would have loved to leak this info if he could? Why were you hiding her?"

His green eyes lighten up then and April isn't sure if he's just great of an actor or if he's unaware of the change. "I'm a private person and, you know me, I don't like broadcasting my relations to the world because things could go wrong and stuff happens and I didn't wanna risk losing her."

The blonde woman seems to buy it, clearing her throat quietly, "And now you're married. But we didn't get a wedding for you guys. Tell me, April, is something in the works?"

"You know, I'm from the midwest and we love quiet weddings." She brings out the big guns straight away, avoiding another question by answering two in one. "Small gatherings and whatnot, so we kept it quiet. But we've been thinking about it, haven't we?"

She traces her thumb over Jackson's knuckles, faces him with a gleeful smile. He copies her action and then they both turn back towards the journalist.

"It's in the works, yes." Jackson confirms, keeping his lips turned upwards and eyes convincing all the way through.

"And I need to ask… Any plans for kids? I mean, I know it's still early but you're both two very good looking people so I'm assuming your babies would be pretty handsome too…"

"We definitely want kids. When? I'm not so sure." April shakes her head, licks her lips at the thought. Damn it. That'll never happen. "I mean have you seen him?"

"Off the record, how is the sex? Just so I can leak it to the press?" Izzie grins like a Cheshire cat.

"I don't-" The younger woman holds back a breath, fakes a giggle instead, "I'm not sure I should say." She clears her throat and feels Jackson's eyes on her from the corner of her sight.

"Okay, so, moving along. Feminism? Necessary or a waste of time?"

"Needed." April frowns gently, "I think we need strong women, and they're paving the way right now. Women everywhere are pioneering for right and equality and I think it's amazing. I feel like if you're a woman in a society like ours, you get pushed aside in favour of men and I think it's completely ridiculous. We need equal pay because we hard, if not twice as much? We're usually the ones raising the children, and we might even be doing that along so I think women, and specifically women in same status jobs as men deserve equality. There is a glass ceiling and it's, without question, breakable. I think it's already shattered but we're just waiting for the right time to pick up the pieces and toss them away."

She closes the tablet in her lap and looks back and forth between the two of them carefully. "I've gotta say it. I think you're just perfect."

"Thank you?"

"Yes. You're pretty, kind of timid but also watchable. I hear you knit, too?"

Jackson peers over at Amelia across the room, holding a folder up to her chest with a guilty smirk on her face and a 'thumbs up' at them.

April can't find it in her to correct the woman so she just nods, agrees a d betters her image a little bit more. "I love it. It's a hobby of mine."

"Great!"

"Done?"

"All finished."

Thank God.


"You did good today."

April smiles almost bashfully at his compliment, "Thank you." She twirls her fork around between her fingers for a moment, watching it move with grave before she stabs another piece of her salad.

"The, uh, pictures and article should be printed in tomorrow's Guardian." Jackson informs her, pouring two mugs of coffee.

Nodding her head, his wife places her fork down to accept the cup of coffee being handed to her. She thanks him again, clasps the green mug between both hands warmly.

"I hope I looked alright."

"You looked great."

She takes a quick sip of her coffee with a smile before placing it back down. But the rim rests on the edge of her fork and it knocks her mug off balance, dropping it on its side and spilling the liquid down her front.

"Oh, crap!" April shrieks as she feels the slight sting of the warm coffee running down her stomach, her cream blouse soaking wet against her skin.

She tosses the napkin in her hand aside, springing up from her stool quickly before heading to the bathroom.

"I'll clean that up in a second!" The redhead calls out behind her as she slips into the washroom, stopping in front of the sink and staring down at her stained top in the mirror's reflection. "Damn it!"

She picks up a hand towel from the stack on the edge of the counter, and she unfolds it and rolls it up into a scrunched up ball before turning on the tap, rinsing it under the stream of water.

Leaving the tap running, she dabs the soaked towel against her blouse, hoping it will dry up the stain but knowing that it won't.

"Are you alright?"

She briefly turns her head to see Jackson stood in the doorway, holding a fresh green top in his hand, seemingly selected from her wardrobe.

April nods, gets back to uselessly scrubbing at her top as she replies with a short sigh, "I'm fine, Jackson. I'm just a klutz." She reasons, frown to her face and lips chewed.

"You're not a klutz." He rolls his green eyes, stepping closer to stand behind her at the counter. "Just relax." He places the green blouse on the side, pries the scuffed towel from her anxious fist slowly.

She watches him move about, lets him handle her and throw the towel into the hamper across the bathroom.

"Sorry. I'm just-" She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, dropping her head as she lets her palms slide along the curve of the edged countertop. "I'm nervous."

"You don't have to be, okay?" He smiles at her, though she fails to see it because she's too busy wallowing in her own self-pity to notice.

April remains still as he seems to comfort her, as he takes care of the situation by smoothing his hands along her sides and across her stomach.

She feels his fingers toy with the lowest button of her blouse and she gulps, lifts her head and gaze to meet his in their reflection. "What are you doing?"

"You need to get ready." He knits both brows, pauses his gentle grasp on her shirt.

"Oh." She just nods, fails to move even though she knows she should take over, knows she shouldn't let him undress her, even like this.

April tries to slow her breathing patterns when he continues to unbutton her shirt, fingers creeping up her chest as he reaches the top button, sliding it through the final hoop slowly.

"Can you get dressed or do you need me to do that for you, as well?"

She can't tell if it's a joke or if he's being serious because his face is expressionless, blank, and his eyes are back to that intense shade of emerald green. Damn it.

"I can do that." She confirms, though her eyes flicker down as he still continues, pulls the blouse down her arms and away from her body slowly.

And then he tosses that into the hamper, too, and she's left in her bra and skirt and her anxiety has been traded in for embarrassment.

"Five minutes."

For someone who'd never been this naked, this revealed in front of anyone other than her mother or her sisters or Lexie or her gynaecologist, she wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought she might be.

"Can I take ten?" She mumbles, teeth digging into her bottom lip as her arms fold over her chest.

Jackson lifts one brow carefully, eyes her up and down so fast that she barely registers him doing it. "Seven."

"Eight."

"Seven, or I'll make sure you leave the house like that."

He points a finger out at her attire and she holds back a 'huh', a puff of air, a disbelieving snort.

"That wouldn't be very good for your image now, would it?" She grins smugly, whips her head back around to look herself over in the mirror. She can be sharp when she wants to be. "You wife leaving the house without a shirt on… I'm sure Webber would love that."

The man takes a step closer when she confidently raises a hand to her hair, pushing a strand behind her ear and licking her lips.

He stops beside her, keeps one hand in his pocket as the other traces along the bathroom counter-top. "What he likes is none of my business."

"But what the greedy men of Seattle like is a man keeping a tight leach on his wife, right?"

She squints, hisses softly, almost a little too gently for the words she's saying.

"I'm sure if I left the house right now, like this, with no shirt on, your votes would just-" She whistles quietly and sticks her right hand out, tipping it back on the angle and aiming it upwards, gliding in direction of the ceiling. "Skyrocket."

"Possibly." He mumbles through gritted teeth, gripping the ledge of the sink in his palm, fingers wrapping around the marble bowl. "Tell me, would you even be willing to do that?"

"That's what you married me for."

He nods once, twice then, drops his gaze and ducks his head as he shifts closer, coming into her side smoothly, "I married you to win over the women of this city, not the men. I have that handled. And I don't need you flaunting around with no clothes on to do it. It's called politics, April. Not a cry for help."

"So me being comfortable enough to do what you're so sure I can't is a cry for help? I don't need a shoulder to cry on, Jackson."

"No, but you need me."

"Correction. You need me."

He leans in, raising his left hand to the low of her back and tracing it up her bare skin slowly until his fingertips graze the clasp of her bra. She shivers, jumps at the surprise, and he smirks in admiration.

April remains still for a moment, letting him wrap her hair in his hand and pull it to one side, leaving the left side of her neck completely accessible. But he's on her right, almost shifted to her middle.

She swallows a shaky breath, feels her knees buckle when he finds her bra again, flicking open the clasp before she can even blink twice. She feels a cold breeze run down her spine at the sensation, feeling his hand against her warm flesh.

Jackson moves behind her then, pulling aside the straps of her bra and dragging it down her shoulders, allowing her to drop it all the way off. She does, keeps her gaze focused on the floor, on her shoes, on the hair fallen over the top of her head when he grips her sides and tilts her forward.

Her arms push forward, elbows sliding along marble as he, as her new husband of three days, as the man she knows barely anything about, bends her over the edge of the counter, one hand wrapped tightly around her pulled hair and the other on the swell of her porcelain back, tanned fingertips creeping lower towards the top of her skirt.

April doesn't question him at all, feeling a little bit too at ease in his arms. It's strange for her though, being so close, being intimate with anyone, much less someone she's basically just met.

Maybe this is a sign though, that she needs to open up and let someone in? Maybe she needs to let her walls down and finally give up on her hopes of finding some Prince Charming to come sweep her off her feet?

It's not like he's terrible. He's kind, and decent and he only seems to change demeanour when she's rattling his cage, intentionally winding him up.

Her shoulders fold when his hand on her back lowers to her backside, gripping her cheek over the material of her skirt.

"Tell me to stop."

She frowns at his demand, turning her neck to face him indirectly, instead only noticing both of his hands move down her legs before tracing back up her thigh, pulling on the hem of her lace skirt.

"Why should I?"

"Because you're going to want me to."

"No." She shakes her head momentarily before dropping it back down, tongue darting out to moisten her lips when he drags the tight skirt over her hips and gathers it around her waist.

"Tell me to stop."

He's not an idiot. He knows that she can't possibly be comfortable right now.

She blushes when he so much as smirks at her. She shivers almost every time he brushes past her. She giggles at his unfunny jokes.

She's infatuated with him, already. And she's beautiful, and smart, and witty. But she needs to grow a thicker backbone if she ever wants to survive in this life.

She can't challenge him whenever she feels like it and then succumb, go along with everything he says. She can't be submissive. She needs to be an equal.

It's a lesson.

"Tell me to stop." He repeats quietly, through a whispered breath and closed eyes, right hand lingering above her backside as his left grips her waist.

April only shakes her head, determined to see what he's so concerned about, though she's pretty certain she has a good idea. She's just not sure if he'll go through with it, or if she could handle it.

As long as he doesn't make this a recurring thing, she'll be fine, she thinks. But her eyes clamp shut and her lips part and she lets out a small whimper when his hand smacks down against her butt cheek, palm to skin and surely leaving a mark.

Okay. That wasn't so bad.

"Tell me to stop." Learn from this. Stop me. Don't let me do it.

"What if I don't want you to?" She hitches a brow when she glances up, face in the mirror and catching his gaze. Breathing in a nervous laugh, she licks her lower lip slowly, keeping her hazel focused on his green ones. "Do it again."

"No." He doesn't want to, though she looks like she wants it, asks him like she does.

The redhead grunts, shuffles and wiggles her ass slightly as her head drops again. "Do it again."

His hand taps against her bottom again before she finishes her request, but his fingers cup her cheek this time, and she feels him push himself against her.

"Again."

She's not sure why she likes it, why she wants him to continue. Isn't this horrible, unholy, disgusting? Is she turning into a terrible person for wanting her husband to inflict a little pain on her?

How can she be when she's the one wanting it? Her ass kind of tingles and she feels a strange yet exciting vibe curse through her body when he does it, obeys yet remains dominant.

"Ask me nicely."

"I don't know how."

She finds her strength to ask for more when he cups her backside in both hands, smoothly gripping her skin and running his thumbs between her cheeks, closer towards her now damp panties.

"Do it again, please?"

She lets out a heavy gasp when he does it again, once, twice. Her back arches forward with each tap, and she can feel a slight burning sensation on her cheek.

"You like that?" One more. Gasp. One more. Moan.

"Uh huh." She nods, chews at the insides of her cheeks when he continues, leaving a hand print against her ass.

"Tell me you like it."

"Don't stop." One more. Two more.

Jackson lets go of her body then, taking two steps back and watching her come to her senses slowly and pull herself together after noticing him walk away.

"Now do you see why I wanted you to stop me?"

"No." She gulps, dragging her skirt back down her legs and rubbing her backside softly, eyes lowered in slight embarrassment.

Why the hell did she just let him do that? Because it was new? Because she wanted to experience something? Because she wanted attention? Because she liked it?

The politician slides his hands back in his pockets after straightening his tie, and he blinks rapidly for a moment, Adam's apple bobbing as he sighs deeply. "Because you need to learn to say no, April. It's all very well for you to have an idea about things and for you to question my judgement. That's perfectly fine. But you can't be so indecisive."

He steps closer again, only this time his hands remain in place and she faces him directly, arms folding back over her bra-clad chest. "I'm not indecisive."

"You are. You say one thing and as soon I fight it, you give up, give in. And you shouldn't. You need to stand by your voice, April. You wouldn't let a rapist get away with his crime if the victim shamefully enjoyed the attention it gave her, would you? No. Nobody would. Nobody should. So why should me spanking you even when you ask for it be any different?"

He tested her?

"It's different because-"

"It isn't. You liked the attention, didn't you? You didn't want me to stop but you wanted me to continue because you liked it." He's met by silence to the question and he nods to confirm her transparent answer. "You liked the fact that I was looking at you, and touching you, and dominating you, and you regret not enjoying it more."

How does he do that?

April snorts out a feigned laugh, rolling her eyes and licking her lips as her eyes dart to the ceiling.

"I can teach you, you know."

"Teach me what?" Her brows knit as she looks over at her, hands behind her, gripping at the edge of the counter.

One step closer, one hand in her hair and she's putty.

"How to control people the same way I just controlled you."

"This has Fifty Shades of My Fair Lady written all over it." She teases to herself, but realises her joke hadn't been spoken mentally when he smirks, teeth grazing his bottom lip.

"I think we can spare the cable ties, don't you?"

April just nods with a sheepish smile, leaning up into his body when he cups the side of her face to tilt her head, pressing his mouth against hers passionately, tongue coaxing her lips apart after only a fraction of a second.

"Tell me to stop." She mumbles teasingly into the kiss, flipping the tables and feeling his lips form a smirk against her own wicked grin.

"No."


Enjoy, and review nicely :)


I imagine some lovely guest reviewers will have some harsh words to say about this because it doesn't feature rape, or unicorns or rainbows, or women portrayed as submissive creatures to their men, and well, it's by me. This piece of work has feminist undertones, so if you'd rather spike your interest with a story about abuse against women and violent men, then look elsewhere. Excuse me for actually being able to write something good, of substance, in-character. Feel free to read and review something else if you already know you don't like me. Leaving anonymous hate is laughable. Have fun.