A/N: Thank you so much for the awesome reviews and for enjoying a little lighthearted Addek silliness (and some sexiness) amidst all the angst we adore, but sometimes need a break from. I hope you enjoy this hugely long and rather ridiculous (but hopefully fun) Chapter 3. Let's be clear that this is a work of Thirsty Thursday lightheartedness. I do not own, nor do I endorse, any of the following: the Staten Island Ferry (including any alleged inappropriate behavior thereon), snarky law enforcement officers, acts of public indecency, Ponzi schemes, or pretzels. Happy Thirsty Thursday!
Six Miles High - Part Three
Technicalities
"The Staten Island Ferry." Weiss shakes his head once the three of them are alone, managing to look mournful and amused all at once. "I have a lot of questions, believe me, but let's just start out with the first one. I'm sorry, but … how exactly is the Staten Island Ferry sexy?"
"It's a ferryboat!" Derek sounds like the answer should be obvious.
Addison groans, massaging her aching head with both linked fists. Their old friend looks anything but convinced.
"But it's orange," Weiss protests, looking from Addison to Derek. "And I know it's been a few months since you've lived here, but neither of you has been out of the city so long that you've forgotten it's the commuter vessel for law enforcement, right? … so maybe next time you want to get frisky you should stick to a water taxi or, I don't know, this is probably crazy, but … a bed? And not mine either," he adds hastily.
"That was one time, and we were house-sitting," Derek protests. "You specifically said make yourselves at home."
"That's true." Weiss nods. "That's fair. I guess we wouldn't even have known if you hadn't left behind those handcuffs ... and half a pretzel."
"Sorry about that, man," Derek says seriously.
"What do you do with the pretzel, anyway?" Weiss wrinkles his nose. "You would never tell me."
"You don't really want to know, do you?"
"No, I guess not." Weiss sighs. "Look, don't get me wrong, I'm glad the two of you are … reconnecting, but that doesn't mean you have to go right back to getting naked in inappropriate places."
"We were not naked," Addison says with dignity, or as much dignity as one can muster when her wrists are still cuffed together, and not in the fun way either.
"Oh, don't go stealing all the good parts of my defense."
"Weiss," Derek says. "We're very happy to see you, really. But are you going to represent us? I mean, this isn't exactly your area…"
"Lewd and indecent? No. I mean, it comes up in the context of securities fraud, sure, but not quite so … blatantly. Usually. Nah, I called in a favor from a law school buddy, and he's on call, but … I had to see you for myself."
"Great," Addison mutters.
Derek leans forward. "Weiss … can you get us out of here? I mean, come on, they don't really have anything on us."
Weiss shakes his head. "Actually, they do. The two of you are the ones who didn't have anything on."
"It's not funny," Addison grumbles. "And more importantly, it's not true! We were wearing all our clothes! Those people-"
"You mean the witnesses?"
"Those people," Addison repeats firmly, "blew it all out of proportion."
"Really." Weiss raises his eyebrows as he shuffled through the blue folder. "Let's see what we have here. Oh, look, here's a witness statement from a woman who chose not to give her name. I'll just read a highlight: frankly, I was shocked – I thought that nice Mayor Bloomberg had cleaned up the city."
Addison snorts at this and Derek frowns at her.
Weiss continues as if he wasn't interrupted. "And here's another witness statement from … let's see, Mrs. Anne Roberts, of Willisburg, Ohio, who told the police – and I quote – my ten-year-old asked me if they were making a baby."
"Not the way we were doing it," Derek mutters and Addison does her best to smack him with her cuffed hands.
"Anyway," Addison says with firm dignity, clearing her throat, "that just goes to show that abstinence-only education does more harm than good."
"Oh, I forgot you're a sex ed activist when you're not getting arrested for public indecency." Weiss rolls his eyes. "That's why you got naked on the ferry? To make a statement about policy?"
"I didn't get naked."
"A technicality."
"People get off on technicalities all the time – don't you dare," Addison adds when Weiss opens his mouth. "Not every phrase is an opportunity for a dirty joke, you know."
"Clearly." Weiss sighs. "Look, I'm just giving you a hard time."
(There's a moment of silence as all three of them glance quickly at each other and decide to let the opportunity for a dirty joke pass.)
"Really," Weiss says kindly. "I mean, it's not like this is unprecedented. We can just add the Staten Island Ferry to the list of places you've gotten yourself banned." He shakes his head, ticking them off on his fingers in a rather judgmental fashion. "… there's the NatHealth skybox at Yankee Stadium … and all of section F at Yankee Stadium, which seems appropriate; the New York Public library – two branches to be specific; the Homo Erectus exhibit at Natural History and that's too easy even for me to turn into a pun," he adds, "and the European Art wing at the Met; the Christmas Tree display at the Met, which I guess makes sense considering who we're talking about; La Grenouille – which reminds me, also the French Embassy … " he pauses. "I never did get the story there."
"I don't think you'd like it," Addison says hastily.
"You're probably right." Weiss clears his throat and continues. "Ellis Island," he wrinkles his nose, "okay, that one is just … wrong."
"We were on a research high," Derek explains. "We had just found the ship manifest for my great-grandmother Maloney. She came over here at sixteen, alone, from County Clare. Isn't that incredible?"
"Yeah, real American Dream stuff," Weiss mutters. "That's great, really, though I'm not sure which part of that story, exactly, was the turn-on?"
Derek sits up a little straighter. "Never mind," he says.
Weiss rolls his eyes. "You know what, Derek? I'm starting to think the real reason you took off to Seattle is because you'd already screwed your way through New York."
"No, I took off to Seattle because Addison – "
"Never mind, I already know," Weiss says patiently. "Now. Shall I continue?"
"Do we have a choice?"
Weiss shakes his head. "I bill out at 950 an hour and you're getting my services pro bono here so … no, not really."
"Fine." Derek sighs. "Go on."
"Thank you," Weiss continues, clearing his throat, "so. As you know, you've also been banned from the Vanderbilt exit at Grand Central…"
"…that shouldn't count, that was after a weekend apart," Addison protests weakly, "and I was in the middle of-"
Weiss continues, speaking over her, "the first class cabin on National Airlines and Cross-Continent Airlines."
"CCA went out of business," Derek interrupts quickly.
"Oh, that explains it," Weiss mutters. "And – let's be clear, these are just the ones I know about – but as I was saying: last, but not least … Temple Beit Ahavah in Edgemere, Long Island."
Derek winces a little at this one. "Sorry about that, Weiss. Your nephew's bar mitzvah was just … very moving."
"Understandably." Weiss lifts an eyebrow. "I guess I should add that you also still have lifelong restraining orders from both the Fleischer and the Greenberg families."
Addison nods solemnly. "We take those very seriously, Weiss, we've towed the line, I promise."
"We never meant to cause any problems," Derek adds.
"Well, in your defense – somewhat – their sons did both say it was the best bar mitzvah they've ever been to, bar none." Weiss pauses. "Bar none, get it? That was Manny who said it. His grandfather was a Borscht Belt staple back in the day, I guess it's genetic. Look, my point is," he continues firmly, "it's 2006. You're actual adults. The two of you need to stop getting naked in public."
"We weren't naked!" Addison hastens to defend herself yet again.
Weiss frowns at her. "You do realize your blouse is buttoned wrong."
"It's a confusing blouse," she offers weakly.
"You're a surgeon."
"I'm not a blouse surgeon."
Weiss buries his face in his hands. "I defended Steer Capital and Donny Watts – and this might be the first case where I have to step down due to ethical concerns."
"Really, Weiss," Addison says primly, "it's too cold to get naked anyway. Plus it was drizzling. There's no reason not to believe us."
"I might believe you … if I didn't know about the Rockefeller Center tree lighting, which I forgot to mention in my list."
"Lifelong ban," Addison sighs, "but … ultimately worth it, I would say."
"Agreed." Derek grins.
Weiss groans. "Are you sure you guys didn't come back to New York because you got kicked out of Seattle?"
"Positive," Derek says firmly.
"We came for Derek's birthday," Addison reminds him.
"Yeah, that's pretty much the problem."
Derek hides a smile while Addison wrinkles her nose. "Look, I know we're easy targets right now – come on, don'tturn that into a double entendre too – but can't you help us? I'm dying to get out of here and get clean. I mean change my clothes," she adds quickly.
"Okay, look." Weiss leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You keep telling me what you didn't do. Are you going to tell me what you did do?"
Addison and Derek exchange a glance. "Um…"
Weiss props his head in his hands again. "I know how you are with the details, so please. Spare me the more … colorful ones. Just give me the bare bones. In other words, try not to scar me unnecessarily."
"Okay." Addison nods. "We'll try."
…
The wind is whipping their hair, the sun is glowing and sinking at the same time, as the ferry makes its way across the water. Little salty droplets fly up and land on their cheeks; the air feels fresh and exhilarating as it only can on a ferry.
They're standing a respectable distance from each other at the railing, looking out at the endless blue-grey sea.
"You know … I enjoy ferryboats in an appropriate, platonic way," Derek says softly, smiling respectfully at Addison.
"I know. So do I," she agrees, smiling back at her husband with noticeable decorum.
"That's convenient," Derek notes politely.
"It is. Also, I notice you look somewhat attractive … which I can handle without losing control," Addison says.
"I feel the same way," Derek responds.
"Thanks, honey."
Derek pats Addison's shoulder affectionately while keeping his distance. "Perhaps later we can engage in consensual marital activity," he suggests.
…
"Consensual marital activity? How dumb do you think I am?"
"Weiss, you're the one who said we should try not to scar you!"
"Right. I didn't say you should tell me a fairytale."
"Fine." Addison scowls and Derek glares at her. He should have known she would lay it on too thick.
"Okay. So what actually happened?"
"Basically that," Derek admits. "With a few tweaks."
"Slight tweaks," Addison says defensively.
Weiss leans back in his chair. "Go ahead, then." He sighs and gestures for Addison to continue. "Tweak away."
…
The wind is whipping their hair, the sun is glowing and sinking at the same time, as the ferry makes its way across the water. Little salty droplets fly up and land on their cheeks; the air feels fresh and exhilarating as it only can on a ferry.
They're standing shoulder to shoulder at the railing, looking out at the endless blue-grey sea.
"You know … I have a thing for ferryboats," Derek says softly, smiling at Addison with obvious intent.
"Oh, I know. So do I," she agrees, smiling back at her husband and raising one eyebrow, an invitation if he's ever seen one. "And I also have a thing for you."
"That's convenient," Derek smirks.
"It is. Especially when you wear blue … you know I can't handle you in blue," Addison reminds him.
"Likewise," Derek responds, glancing down at the blue-patterned blouse visible between the lapels of her lightweight jacket.
"Thanks, honey."
Derek curls a hand around Addison's shoulder, moving closer. "I've always had a thing for ferryboats … but I wouldn't mind leaving the boat behind and heading straight back to the hotel after this," he whispers, "assuming we have time before dinner for-"
…
"Okay, keep it PG, please."
"You said to tell you what happened," Derek points out. "We weren't exactly arrested for petting a puppy."
Weiss sighs. "Fine. R, but that's my limit." He looks from one of his friends to the other. "You know, it's too bad R can't be your limit, at least in public."
Addison winces a little; the man has a point.
"Go on…"
…
"And after that … I mean, once we work the kinks out and make sure nothing's broken, then what?"
"After that? I'll need a cigarette, I think," Derek concludes; they're both a little breathless after spending several nautical miles describing in precise detail what they plan to do to each other in their hotel room.
"Derek, you haven't smoked a cigarette since 1981."
"True. But if we're really going to do all that before our dinner reservation … I might have to break my streak."
She giggles a little, then shivers.
"Nervous?" he teases her.
"Cold," she admits. The early spring weather is fickle, and her coat is light.
"Here." Derek opens his own jacket and motions for her to slide in between him and the fabric like she used to. She slips an arm around his waist and curls in close to the warmth of his body.
"Better?"
"Much." She hunches a little to warm as much of herself as possible, resting her cheek against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. It feels strong, steady …
… maybe a little fast.
"Derek?"
"Hm?" He's been playing with her hair with the arm not inside her coat, toying with the ends of the long strands. It's an absent gesture, sweet even, but for some reason each light tug is sending prickles of sensation down her neck, over her shoulders, and…
"Nothing," she says softly, then burrows a little closer, shivering slightly as his fingers apply pressure to the base of her skull, working through her long hair.
He releases her hair and holds her tighter when she shivers. "It's not that cold, Addie."
"Who said I was cold?"
She feels him smile into her hair. "You're right, I should have known."
She wraps her arm more securely around his waist, ducking into his warmth, and they watch the water together, enjoying each other's company.
…
"Very sweet," Weiss says, sounding unimpressed. "Touching. Sav will love it. Funny, though, it doesn't really sound arrest-worthy."
"We told you we didn't deserve to be arrested."
"True." Weiss rubs the bridge of his nose. "You know who else says that?"
"Who?"
"Everyone who's ever been arrested."
Addison exhales heavily. "We're telling you the truth, Weiss."
"I believe you."
"You do?" Derek is confused.
"Sure. A little flirting and ferry snuggling? Easy to believe. Classic Derek and Addison."
"Addison and Derek," Addison corrects, shrugging when Derek glares at her in response.
"So yeah, I believe that happened," Weiss says. "But…"
Derek and Addison exchange a glance.
"…I don't believe for one second that's all that happened."
"Oh," Addison says faintly. "Well, um…"
…
"Remember the first time we took a ferry together?"
"Of course I do." She feels his lips move against her hair. "It was the Circle Line, during Getting to Know You week."
"We did get to know each other that week, didn't we." Addison smiles at the memory.
"We certainly did. I'm not sure Columbia really meant us to take the title of orientation so … literally, though."
"Literally? You mean biblically."
"That too."
Addison laughs. "We thought we were being so sly, in the upper wheelhouse by ourselves, but then Mark walked in and…"
Her voice trails off and she feels herself tense, annoyed that she brought him up. When things were going so well.
"I'm sorry," she says in a small voice.
"So was he," Derek responds mildly. "I'm not sure he'd seen that much of me since we were changing our swimsuits in the locker rooms in Tadpole League."
"I meant –"
"I know what you meant." Derek exhales heavily. "And I know you're sorry. Look, can we just … move on? Not dwell on it? At least while we're here."
Can they? Moving on is only all she's ever wanted since she landed in Seattle. "If that's what you want to do," she says tentatively. "I mean … it's your birthday."
"My birthday already happened … in an airplane bathroom," he reminds her.
…
"Wait, what about an airplane bathroom?" Weiss looks from one of them to the other.
"Nothing," Addison says hastily. "Forget it."
…
"Actually, I was the only one in the airplane bathroom," Addison clarifies, "and you were waiting outside. Unnecessarily."
"Very necessarily," he corrects her, "on pilot's orders. You wanted me to start a fight with the pilot?"
Addison recalls the tall, distinguished, grey-haired pilot. Broad shoulders under his navy blue uniform jacket, silver wings clipped to his lapel, a nice tan, probably from jaunts to the Caribbean when he's not flying cross-country…
"Addison," he says curiously.
"Um. Sorry." She pats his hip apologetically. "I was just thinking it wouldn't have been so bad for you to start a fight with Captain Silver Fox."
"Captain Silver Fox." He shakes his head. "That's disturbing. You do remember your father's nickname…"
She shoves him. "Don't be disgusting. The pilot is an actual captain. It's not some sailing nickname he uses to pick up girls."
"Fine, but you were just saying you wouldn't have minded … picking up that pilot."
"All I said was that I wouldn't have minded your wrestling him a little."
"Wrestling him!" Derek laughs, jostling her where she's pressed up against him, and she squeezes him a little tighter in response.
"Yeah … wrestling him." She closes her eyes again, picturing it vividly. "You know, two glistening men, battling in a test of strength and wills. Mm, you know, like a … gladiator."
…
"A gladiator?" Weiss makes a face. "Really?"
"I had more of a problem with glistening, actually," Derek notes and Weiss nods in agreement.
Addison says nothing, just presses her lips together primly.
"Wait." Weiss points an accusatory finger across the table. "Is that why you and Savvy saw that gladiator movie four times?"
"What movie?" Derek turns to Weiss.
"Gladiator," Weiss says. "Really creative title, by the way. Would you believe Savvy told me she liked the historical context?"
Addison smirks.
"Honestly." Weiss shakes his head. "What's so great about those guys, anyway? Ugh, it's that one actor, isn't it. I can't remember his name. You know who I mean …"
…
"…Russell Crowe," she reminds him, winding her fingers into his curls. "You know, with your hair longer like that, you look…"
"Yes, I remember your saying something about that." He pauses. "The pilot? Really?"
She shrugs against him.
"Hm. Good to know. Well, I'm sorry I didn't wrestle the pilot for you."
"Now there's a sentence you haven't said before." She smiles into the blue shirt she picked out for him, resting her hand higher now, against his heart. It's still a little fast, and she loves the way it feels against her palm. The top button of the shirt is open, and she can't really stop herself from tilting her face up to press her lips to the bare skin of his throat.
"Addison…"
But she feels the hum of his voice against her mouth and it goes straight through her body, all the way from her tingling scalp down to her toes, which curl-
…
"Isn't toe-curling just an expression?" Weiss glances from one of them to the other.
"Not when Derek's involved," Addison smirks.
Derek grins at her. "Thanks," he says, sounding pleased with himself.
"Thank you," she replies.
"Okay, that's enough of that. Look, Derek," Weiss turns to his old friend. "Can't you just give me the facts, the – without all the embellishment and … girly things?"
"Girly things?" Addison raises her eyebrows. "That's sexist. I'm telling Savvy."
Weiss raises his eyebrows. "How do you plan to do that when you're locked up?"
"Oh." She considers this, and decides being nice to Weiss would be wise. "Honey, Weiss has a point. Why don't you take over the story."
"Fine." Derek shrugs.
…
He's standing innocently on the deck of the ferry, thinking about the tax returns he'll need to file in just about a month, when Addison, completely without permission or encouragement, shocks him by kissing his neck.
…
"Okay, stop right there. You can't tell it in a totally biased way," Addison protests, looking to Weiss for support. "That's not fair. Right? That is completely self-serving. And not true."
Weiss shrugs.
"And anyway, we'd already moved on to the toe-curling … remember?"
"Fine," Derek sulks.
…
"Addison, what do you think you're doing?" He draws back suspiciously.
…
"Derek, just tell the story straight," Weiss orders impatiently.
"No, it's okay, he really did say that," Addison confirms.
"Oh." Weiss considers this. "Playing dumb. I never knew that was your thing, Derek."
"I don't have just one thing," Derek says with dignity.
"I guess that explains all the places you're banned."
"Anyway," Derek says hastily, "I'll just, uh, go on with the story."
"Please."
…
"Nothing," Addison says silkily. Her voice is that honeyed purr that she knows drives him crazy. She's not supposed to use it in public, not anymore. That voice is like a weapon and should be registered, holstered, maybe even banned.
Well. Not banned.
She smirks at him and then burrows back under his jacket again. "It's cold," she explains.
It's not. Under the jacket, it's getting quite warm, in fact. Maybe because Addison has pressed her lips to the skin between the open collar of his new shirt – again – or maybe because she's pressed her body against his –
"to get warm," she explains, unnecessarily –
But either way, cold is the least of his problems. It's not his fault, really, it's that he was twenty-two the first time he felt Addison's body press up against his on a ferryboat, and the combination of the whipping wind, salt air scent, and her pliant, heated curves takes him right back with a rush of hormones.
He feels her laugh a little against him when he starts to respond.
"So, should I assume you're happy to see me …are you just happy to see Staten Island?"
"I can't see Staten Island," he mutters as her hand lingers on his hip. "Not yet."
"Then I guess I'll take it as a compliment."
"Addison." He glances around. "We're not…"
"I'm not doing anything," she says innocently. "You're the one who can't keep it together on a ferryboat."
It's her fault again because the word ferryboat slipping out from between her smirking lips sends a rush of heat through his body – or maybe it's her body; it's hard to tell whose is whose right now since they're so closely pressed together under one jacket.
Addison shift so she's flush against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He pulls the jacket tighter around both of them, but their new position isn't helping matters. Addison's height was always a bonus, since standing face to face made everything … line up so well, for lack of a more gracious term. But the last thing he wants right now, on a massive orange commuter ferry in broad daylight, is to 'line up' with the unmistakable source of the heat that's coursing through both of them.
"Addie…"
"I'm cold again."
"You are not."
"So?" She tilts her head back, and he lowers his to kiss her without thinking.
…
"Did you ever consider that maybe thinking a little more would have kept you out of jail?"
"We're not in jail," Addison reminds Weiss. "We're just in an interrogation room."
"Oh, that's much more respectable. My mistake." Weiss waves a hand. "Continue."
…
The wind picks up, lifting Addison's long hair and tangling it around both their faces. Kissing her was always a risk for a mouthful of hair, but it was always worth it, too. She's doing something with her tongue now that feels like she's touching him everywhere at once, and when he pulls her closer and her softness melts against him he realizes they need to take it down a notch.
He pulls away reluctantly; she makes a soft sound of disappointment.
"Addie. Remember the Christmas tree lighting?"
"Of course I remember."
"We were never allowed back," he reminds her.
"It was worth it, though."
"Yeah, I guess it was."
She glances at him.
"No," he says firmly, and just then a few light drops start falling from the sky, and the deck empties, everyone else heading inside to stay out of the rain.
"Derek …"
"No," he says firmly.
"We're alone now."
"Just because we're the only ones willing to stand outside in the rain…"
"Maybe it's fate," she tells him. "It's meant to be."
…
"You know, when Savvy said you were meant to be, she was being sweet. She meant it in a … nice way. She wasn't giving you license to get naked in public."
"We didn't get naked," Addison insists tiredly, for what feels like the hundredth time. "Just listen ... please. We'll get there."
"Fine." Weiss glances at Derek. "Then what happened," he mutters, sounding like he would really rather not know.
…
"That's not fair," Addison protests as she plays with the collar of his new shirt. "Yours is open more than mine."
"Always with the competition." He shakes his head.
"Hey, no competition. You can win … as much as you want."
"Oh, really." He raises his eyebrows.
"Assuming 'winning' is what you made me do in the hotel room, then … yes."
A slow smile spreads across his face. "Actually, I won in the hotel room too, as I recall, so I think that's called a tie."
"A tie it is, then."
"A tie," he confirms, and then his lips return to the soft skin at her neck, his fingers flicking open the top few buttons of her blouse. "There. We're even."
"Hey." She pulls back.
"Stay close," he warns her. "You don't want to get cold."
She grins at him and steps back into his embrace; his coat is covering both of them as he dips her slightly with a firm hand at her back, cupping her skull with the other and exposing the tender skin of her throat.
"It's not fair," she protests, gasping as his lips trail over sensitive skin.
He pauses. "What's not fair?"
Her eyes look glazed. "I … don't remember."
"Thought so." He smirks and continues what he was doing before, pulling her in a little tighter so almost every inch of them is pressed together, concentrated softness every against him making his pulse speed up even more.
He flicks open the rest of the buttons.
"Derek!"
"No one can see. See?" He pulls her open blouse closed.
"Okay."
Then he pulls her blouse open again and buries his face in softness without another word. She makes a sound that might be a protest but he can't really hear anything except his own heartbeat. Lace scratches his cheeks but it's worth it to feast on her while the cool wind whips their hair and light droplets fall around them. Her fingers are tangled in his hair now; he's taking on more of her weight as she softens against him.
When he draws back she looks disappointed, and he grins at her. Her blouse is hanging limply open, her cheeks are flushed, the rosy skin he's just been exploring bearing numerous testaments to his handiwork. Gently, he rubs his thumb over one of the reddened spots and she hisses, then smiles. Leaning forward, ducking into his open jacket, she trails both her hands down the still-closed blue shirt she bought for him and, staring right at him as her fingers fly, makes short work of his belt.
"Addison," he says weakly.
"It's okay," she murmurs. "No one can see."
He's not sure that's true but he can't exactly argue, not when the rush of the speeding ferry is vibrating powerfully under his feet and her cool, competent hands are sliding into his waistband and –
"Addison!"
She moves closer, if possible. "Don't worry," she says, her voice soothing while her hands are doing exactly the opposite. "We're the only ones out here."
…
"Didn't you hear me say stop?"
"Oh. No," Derek says. "Sorry."
"I think I have the gist of the story," Weiss says stiffly, then sighs. "Does it, uh, does it get much worse?"
Addison and Derek exchange a glance.
"Not really," she says hesitantly.
…
It gets much better. With Addison's back to the sturdy railing and Derek's strong arms holding her tightly, his open trench coat hiding both of them, it's easy to curl one leg around him and let him rock against her in a way that makes her muscles tighten and her eyelids flutter uncontrollably.
One of his warm hands is traveling up her chilled thigh.
"More lace," he observes when he meets resistance.
"It's your birthday," she reminds him, her tone teasing.
"Mm. Thank you, for that," he says, and brushes aside the scraps of fabric while she buries her face in his neck. Thank god for rain. And empty ferry decks. Because she's not sure if she could stop now if she wanted to, one of her hands wrapped around heated flesh – liberated just so from the fabric of his half-open trousers, they're still pretty much fully dressed.
He tips her head back, holding her carefully, but the thrill of feeling the open air behind her sends another flood of excitement through her body. The feel of his stubble against sensitive skin he's already marked is driving her crazy.
"Derek … " she tugs on his hair and he suckles harder in response, making her gasp.
He looks up at her, grinning, and the lust in his hooded eyes goes straight through her.
"Just … do it," she grinds out as his nimble fingers trace patterns on skin that's dying for more. Much more.
"Just do it? That's not very polite." He lifts his head to kiss the tender skin on the side of her neck, first gently and then not so gently, and she hisses. "What's the magic word?"
"The magic word," she says doubtfully.
"Yes, Addison." He grasps her thigh and lifts her a little higher against him; she sighs in anticipated pleasure but while she can feel him readying himself nothing more happens. "The magic word," he repeats, brushing against her just the slightest bit, which is cruel when he knows she's aching for more.
"Please," she pants.
"That's not it."
"What?" She lifts her head from his neck, confused. "Please is the magic word. It's always the magic word."
"If it were the magic word, wouldn't I be-"
The blaring of the ferry's whistle drowns out his descriptive phrasing, but she hears enough detail to make her blush.
"Derek … the whistle … the boat's going to dock."
"Not yet," he assures her. "We have time … if you tell me the magic word."
"Derek!" She wriggles against him, trying to increase the friction she needs; he laughs and uses his free hand to pin her desperate hips against the railing. She groans. "You're really going to make me go all the way to Staten Island this frustrated?"
"That's the last thing I want," he murmurs against her neck, and she shivers. "So just figure out the magic word."
Argh! She's going to kill him. One of his fingers is brushing against her now, too lightly to come anywhere close to satisfaction but enough to remind her what he's capable of, and it's killing her. She's going to die of sexual frustration and then she won't even be able to have the satisfaction of killing him for tormenting her.
"Derek!" She curses audibly as one of his fingers curls against her in a way that's just cruel. She bites her lip to stifle a moan and sees the effect the noise has on him. So two can play this game.
…except she doesn't want to play a game. Because the ferry is going to dock way too soon for her liking and they'll have to disembark and the idea of doing that before he finally joins their bodies, fills the empty space that's pleading for him, is too much to bear. He seems to sense her growing desperation because he's teasing her again, his heated flesh brushing against her, but he's still pinioning her hips so she can't draw him in where she wants him, and then his lips are on her neck again, and the scratchiness at the top of her body combined with silken steel teasing her at the center is too much, it's too much, she can't-
"Ferryboat!" She blurts, so loudly he jumps a little since his ear is so close to her mouth, but when he draws back he's grinning.
"Very good," he says, "you figured out the magic word." And before she can respond he's lifted her leg higher around him and his mouth is on hers and –
(finally, freaking finally)
she sighs in exquisite relief as he pushes deeply inside her.
It's everything but it's not enough, all at once. "More," she begs, digging her heels into him and he lifts her other leg, bracing her hard against the ferry railing; she's going to have some interesting bruises later but it's more than worth it because in this position their bodies are basically one, she feels wonderfully, perfectly full as his hips move against hers like only his can, it's slow and deep and she lets her head dangle back over the railing, the breeze in her hair and salt on her face, it would feel dangerous except she knows he's holding her up. She knows he'll keep her safe. And her whole body is on fire; he knows her so well, he knows just how to tease her but also how to get it done when he needs to – efficient, that's Derek, when necessary, and just as she feels her muscles start to seize up, her shaking lips starting to form his name, an unfamiliar and deeply unwelcome sound rips through her reverie.
"Help!" shouts a woman's voice. "Help! Coast Guard! There are … sex maniacs on this boat!"
…
"So you see," Derek says meekly, "how it all comes back to wrestling.
"Oh, yeah." Weiss rolls his eyes. "It all makes perfect sense now."
"And you see that we never took off any of our clothes," Addison adds quickly.
"Yeah … not sure how much of a defense that is, Addie. Although, I will say I'm grudgingly impressed."
Addison shrugs modestly. "Not our first time."
"I'm aware," Weiss says grimly. Then he pauses. "I guess that's how Savvy…"
"Oh yeah," Addison admits with no small amount of pride. "I taught her how to do that."
Weiss considers this. "I'll wait to thank you until it's all over."
"Okay." She stares at her hands. "But Weiss, we weren't hurting anyone! Don't you see that if that woman hadn't screamed and called us sex maniacs, this never would have happened."
"Okay, first of all, I think it's more like if the two of you hadn't felt the need to get busy on a public ferry, this never would have happened. Plus … while that woman might have been blunt, be honest, Addie … was she inaccurate?"
Addison frowns and doesn't answer.
"So then you were arrested."
"By some very sarcastic officers," Addison says.
"Sarcastic? NYPD? I'm shocked," Weiss responds.
More sarcasm. They really are back in New York.
"Anyway, we were arrested and they brought us here and … and now we might miss our dinner reservations!"
"Your dinner reservations." Weiss shakes his head. "That's your takeaway from all this?" He pauses. "Let me guess. You told the officers you need to make your reservation."
"I thought they should know!" Addison gives Weiss her most innocent smile, then sighs. "It's Fourchette, Weiss. We flew three thousand miles for this."
"Really? I thought you flew three thousand miles to besmirch an innocent commuter vessel."
"We did not," Addison says with dignity, "and it's Derek's birthday, and he shouldn't have to spend it behind bars."
"Look, I'll make you a deal. I'll do my best to get you out of here in time for your reservation … and the two of you come to Sunday brunch tomorrow."
"What kind of deal is that? Weiss, how do you make the big bucks if this is your idea of negotiating?"
"We're on the same side here," he explains. "The thing is, Savvy really wants to see you. She misses you. And she wants you to come over for brunch like the old days: bagels, schmear, schmoozing…"
Derek agrees hastily before Weiss starts using Yiddish words he doesn't know. "That sounds great. Yes. Of course. Right, Addie?"
"Right," she says immediately. "It would be great to see Savvy. And to see you somewhere, you know, a little more comfortable."
For a moment all three gaze around the cinder-block walls, stained linoleum floor, and harsh, eerily flickering fluorescents.
"Okay." Weiss puts both hands flat on the table then and pushes his chair back – wincing slightly at the noise. It's clearly not the top-of-the-line ergonomic setup he's used to at the firm. "I'll go talk to the officers."
"Great," Addison says warmly, "thank you so much. We'll just wait here for you."
Weiss has one hand on the door. "Um …"
…
"This is completely absurd. And unnecessary," Addison calls, gripping the iron bars of the holding cell. "Do you hear me, officer? It's also outrageous."
"You tell 'em, sister," slurs the clearly drunk woman curled up on the wooden bench at the back of the cell.
"You don't understand," Addison explains to her … cellmate, reasonably. "This is all a mistake. See, I'm not supposed to be here."
"Yeah? Me either." Her cellmate stretches sleepily, which, in the strip of magenta fabric that Addison supposes was once a tube top doesn't leave much to the imagination.
"I mean, I didn't do anything wrong," Addison clarifies, averting her eyes politely.
"Oh, you think I did?" The woman starts to sit up and Addison notices that she's quite a bit bigger than she originally thought, with some serious triceps. And deltoids.
"No, of course you didn't," Addison says hastily. "It's just … " She lowers her voice to a whisper. "I didn't get naked," she explains.
"You stick to that story, honey," the other woman mumbles approvingly, then slumps back onto the bench, her short skirt riding up so much Addison wonders if she might get arrested a second time.
"Hey! Is anyone out there? Can you let me out, please?" Addison tries to rattle the bars but apparently that's only in cartoons; these bars are rock solid.
"Would you keep it down in there?" An officer she doesn't recognize ambles over, glaring at her.
"But I shouldn't be locked up," she protests.
"Riiight, you're the first perp who's ever said that. Let me just get my keys," he says sarcastically.
"I am not a perp," she corrects him with dignity. "I'm a surgeon."
"Yeah?" He looks her up and down. "Remind me to stay out of your hospital. I'm not sure it's … sanitary."
"I wasn't naked!" she calls after his broad retreating back, annoyed that she can hear him chuckling. Must everyone think the worst of them?
She wonders how Derek is doing. The men's holding cell is around the corner, so she can't see him. Hopefully he's faring better than she is.
…
"Now that one probably needs some follow-up," Derek says tiredly as he examines his fifth mole on his second stranger since the iron door swung shut, trying to keep his distance from the bare skin in front of him. "The other one looks fine. But remember, I'm a neurosurgeon, not a dermatologist."
"Thanks, doc." The other man pulls up his pants. "It's great having you around for those hard-to-reach areas."
The third man, some of whose moles were quite difficult to find in the midst of impressive hirsutism, nods enthusiastically.
"Yeah … great," Derek echoes weakly.
"Hey, what are you in for, anyway, doc? You writing bad prescriptions?" The hirsute man looks worryingly eager. "You got anything on you right now?"
"No, and no," Derek says hastily. "I'm in here because … well, it's all just a big misunderstanding."
"What a coincidence," says the less hirsute man, "that's what I'm in for too."
"Me too."
Derek sighs, peering through the bars hoping for a glimpse of Weiss coming to rescue him. Of course, he reminds himself nobly, he hopes Weiss will rescue Addison first if it comes to that. And he reminds himself to tell Addison that too, later. After all … it's probably what a gladiator would do.
…
Addison looks up excitedly at the sound of footsteps. The uniformed officer is unsmiling, which worries her, but then he jangles a large keyring as he rattles the lock on the iron door.
"You're letting us go?" Addison asks hopefully. Thank you, Weiss. I guess they don't pay you the big bucks for nothing, even though it's pretty ridiculous that you make more than Derek when he actually opens up people's brains for a living, but if you can get us out of this…
"Go?" The officer smirks. "No. Well. Go back to the interrogation room, yes."
At least it's better than nothing, and definitely better than the holding cell, although now she'll never get to hear the end of her cellmate's story about the rave in Red Hook where three different guys-
"Addie! Are you okay?"
She gives Derek her bravest and most noble smile as he catches up to her in the hallway, like the kind of strong but sensitive maiden a gladiator would kill another gladiator to win. "I'm okay, honey. I mean, it was tough in there, really tough, but I just kept telling myself that-"
"You were in a holding cell for twenty minutes, Addison." Weiss rolls his eyes, hustling them both down the hall to the interrogation room behind the uniformed officer. "Maybe hold off on practicing for the inspirational talk show tour."
"Fine."
In the doorway to the unfortunately familiar box of an interrogation room, Addison glances nervously at the handcuffs dangling from their chaperoning officer's belt.
But the officer just nods at Weiss and leaves them alone, closing the door behind him.
"No handcuffs?" Addison asks brightly.
"No … but don't tempt me," Weiss says when he sees Addison tuck her hand into the crook of Derek's arm, leaning against him with relief.
"Sorry," she says quickly, pulling back. Weiss might be a teeny bit sensitive, but he's being such a good friend that she'll let it slide.
"So." Addison leans forward, elbows propped on the table. "Did you get us a deal? Did you plead us down?"
Weiss lifts an eyebrow.
"I used to watch some Law & Order in the lounge when I was on overnight call," she admits. "It was good background for studying."
"Oh. Well. That explains a lot." Weiss leans back in his chair. "What I was able to get you is a desk appearance ticket."
"Like a traffic ticket?" Addison asks eagerly.
"Sort of ... but not quite. It means can get out of here as soon as you sign, and you're free until your court appearance. Which is a week from Tuesday."
Addison's eyes widen. "But we're supposed to fly back tomorrow."
"You turn down the DAT, you get city hospitality until your arraignment." Weiss gestures around the interrogation room. "You want to sit here another twenty hours, and then show your face in court looking like that?"
"Hey." Addison frowns. "I don't look that bad."
"You look great," Derek assures her, and she smiles at him.
"I thought you were dying to get cleaned up," Weiss reminds her. "Let me tell you, the showers where they'll send don't exactly have Kiehl's products."
"Weiss," Derek cuts in hastily. "It sounds like this is the best alternative to …" he pauses. "Well, to just letting us go."
"They were never just going to let you go."
"Don't they have bigger crimes to worry about? Terrorists?"
"Why don't you ask them that," Weiss proposes wearily. "I bet they'd love a little triage advice from you."
Addison presses her lips together. "Okay, fine. I'm just saying, Weiss, you kept a man who constructed an entire fraudulent scheme over twelve years out of jail, but we still get a desk appearance ticket?"
"How did you know about that?"
"Savvy sent me an article about it," she shrugs. "That was a good picture of you."
"Oh." Weiss looks mollified. "Well. That was nice of you to read it. And anyway, he was arraigned. Trust me. And just so you know ... even Club Fed doesn't have Kiehl's products."
"Okay. Desk appearance ticket. Court date next week." Addison winces, but does her best to square her shoulders bravely. "We can do this. And, um, at the court appearance…"
"My buddy will be there. I will too, but trust me, he'll get you off. Two surgeons with no record – well, no public one anyway? You'll be fine. But you'll have to stick around until your court date."
"Okay." Addison exchanges a glance with Derek. "We can do that ... right?"
He nods.
"Good," Weiss says, "because I had to convince the officers you weren't a flight risk, even though you have round-trip tickets."
"I'll change the flights."
"As soon as you can, please."
Addison smiles with relief at Derek. They can do this. Okay, it's an extra … nine days in Manhattan, but if it means their charges will be dropped and, most importantly that they won't have to spend any more time in their respective holding cells, then it's worth it.
"And listen. This is important. One of the conditions of getting out of here is that you have to stay out of trouble until then," Weiss instructs them. "Any funny business and that DAT disappears and you're right back here."
"We'll be good," Addison promises hastily, and Derek nods vigorously with the expression of a particularly pious altar boy. It's nine days. And they're not criminals. They're highly respected, (mostly) law-abiding physicians.
This will be easy.
"And, hey, guys –" Weiss puts out a hand to get their attention. "That means no taking off, opening, moving aside, or altering your clothing in public, and it also means that any and all sexual activity is to be strictly confined to the indoors … with the doors locked."
… okay, maybe it won't be that easy after all.
To be continued (of course). If you enjoy this highly self-indulgent and silly alternate Addek universe where Our Babies are ... well, sex maniacs ... then please let me know. I'm getting a kick out of this storyline even though it's not exactly what I intended when I wrote the first chapter on a plane! So now they're stuck in Manhattan for nine extra days. What do you think - should I continue? Do you want to see if they can stick to the conditions of their release?
PS to those of you who asked in reviews, it's all silly and tongue in cheek, so feel free to imagine either that the flashbacks are much more graphic than what Addison and Derek are actually saying to people ... or that they're not, because Addek can't seem to help themselves.