A/N: Oh hey, remember this story? The one I wrote and posted on a cross-country flight, about shameless sex on a cross-country flight? Sorry not sorry? Anyway, it's back. You ever have a really busy day with tons of work so you just write ten thousand words of smut with a teeny smattering of angst? No? Just me, then?

I hope you enjoy ...

Six Miles High, Part Five
Alarms

The alarm clock wakes Addison from deep, dreamless, and thoroughly satisfying sleep the next morning.

"Mmph," is her response, as she reaches over to press the snooze button.

Well.

The Shepherd Snooze Button, as they've always called it.

Their morning routine for years, right up until they stopped waking up together whenever they could, included a very … personalized alarm clock.

Which is easy if you know exactly where the other person's … alarms are.

But every alarm clock needs a snooze button, so traditionally, to get more sleep, one only had to reach over and press the button.

Well.

Press something, anyway, and Addison's alarm clock – her very warm, very living, very nakedalarm clock yelps when her fingers skate over his snooze button.

"Five more minutes," she pleads.

"Then you shouldn't have pressed the button," he says, sounding both amused and even a little sympathetic.

"That's not how most snooze buttons work, you know," she pouts.

"Well. We're not most snooze buttons."

This is fair.

She relents, not because he has a point but because he has warm, skilled hands that are running down the side of her body, waking her up in a way that silences any protests she might have had.

"How did you sleep?" he asks, pulling her close.

She inhales deeply – he smells so familiar here, and different from the trailer, as if New York City itself has gotten back into his pores.

"I slept pretty well."

"Pretty well?" He tugs lightly on a strand of her long hair. "I had a front row seat and I would say you slept like a kitten."

"Like a kitten?" Addison frowns. "Is that a thing?"

"Sure it's a thing," Derek says. "Like a kitten. You know … stretched out … taking up most of the bed … self-satisfied … scratched me a couple of times."

"Derek!" She takes a mock-outraged swing at him, which he deflects neatly by pulling her on top of his body.

She lets him pin her arms – putting up a token protest mainly because her wriggling and his subsequent subduing brings all the best dips and curves of their bodies into close contact.

"Do kittens do this, though?" she purrs into his ear, letting her fingers trail down his body.

"God, I hope not," Derek says, and she laughs against his neck.

"Okay, look. I appreciate that you brought our old alarm clock – "

And then her voice is muffled when he flips them over, balancing on his forearms above her with both eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappear into his very tousled hair. "Old alarm clock? Old?"

"I didn't mean it like that! And anyway, we're the same age."

"Oh, but we're not," Derek points out. "My birthday was yesterday, and you still have two months of being thirty-eight before you're – "

"Old?" she asks innocently.

And not so that he'll tickle her in revenge.

That would be silly.

Still, it's Derek's birthday weekend, so she lets him – he's fast, with those very well-trained fingers and she thrashes and shrieks underneath him until he stops, very suddenly, right at the edge of discomfort.

"How do you do that?" she asks, when she has her breath back.

"Do what?" He's settled on his side next to her now, lazily strumming his fingers along her bare hip.

"Know just when I – I mean …"

Her voice trails off; she finds herself a little embarrassed.

Tactfully, Derek prevents her from having to finish the sentence by kissing her, first with gentle lips and then more probing ones.

Then he draws back and looks at her. His eyes are bright like they are in the early morning, that particular color of blue when he's … well … turned on (which differs from the shade of blue right after he's … well … finished).

For a moment he's gaze turns so intense it almost takes her breath away.

"You're my wife," he says quietly. "That's how I do it."

She feels tears spring to her eyes.

He doesn't question them or shush her, just kisses the moisture that gathers and then pulls her on top of him again, holding her close. She melts against his body, arms and legs draped over him like a blanket. For long moments – she's not sure how long, since her alarm clock is currently underneath her, his inhales and exhales her own as well – they just lie there quietly. Derek's familiar fingers trail down her spine. It's soft. It's soothing.

Very soothing.

…

With Addison's body draped over his, he can feel the exact moment she crosses the feathery boundary between awake and asleep. He couldn't say exactly how, if someone were to ask, but he knows all the same. He's felt it countless times. Maybe it's the soft warm weight of her growing a little heavier, or the change in the way she's breathing against his neck.

And even though his alarm clock is currently covering his body and slumbering peacefully, he knows they don't have that much time to get ready for Savvy and Weiss's brunch.

And they can't be late.

Not this time.

Not when Weiss is judging their every move (at least their every move toward each other, anyway).

"Addie," he says quietly against her hair.

Nothing.

"Addison." He rubs circles on her back first gently, then more firmly when she doesn't wake up.

Still nothing.

He's trained, too, to sleep whenever possible – anyone who makes it through residency can say the same – but this is ridiculous.

"Addison."

He shakes one of her shoulders, and then the other.

Nothing!

Finally, running out of options, he sits up just a little, raises his right hand, glances at his open palm, and then brings it down hard on one bare cheek.

"Ow!"

Addison is definitely awake now, scrambling off him and kneeling up on the mattress, rubbing the skin he's just marked. "What was that for?"

"To wake you up."

"Well, it hurt! Couldn't you just – wake me up some other way?"

"Believe me, Addie, I tried."

She glares at him, still rubbing the sore spot. He feels a little bad now, but also defensive. She's making a pretty big deal out of this for someone who so many times in the past has –

But he's not going to throw that in her face.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "I just know you don't want to be late to Savvy and Weiss's."

"That's true." She looks somewhat mollified.

Feeling hopefully, he reaches for her free hand and gently tugs until she's lying against his side again. He skims one hand down the curve of her back, over the soft roundness of –

"Ow!"

"Sorry," he says again, hastily. "I'm trying to help," he adds.

Rather grudgingly, she settles back down.

He skates his palm very carefully over the spot he marked – it's significantly warmer than the surrounding skin – hot, even, glowing against his palm. So lightly he's practically not touching her at all, he runs his fingers over it – once, another time – in softly concentric circles, soothing its soreness.

"Better?" he asks after a few moments.

"Better," she agrees. She leans up to kiss his neck, he palms one smooth thigh, and then she's on top of him again. Their lips meet, and she smiles against his mouth.

"Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd really like to, um, hit your snooze button right now, but I think you're right that we need to get ready for brunch."

He reluctantly agrees, even though he immediately misses the warm weight of her body when she hefts herself off his.

"Derek?" she says again.

"Yeah, Addie."

"Just to be clear, you do know I'm not opposed." Her hand drifts over her hip again, settling over the warm patch of skin he marked. "I just like a little warning, that's all."

And with that, she slides off the bed and glances over her shoulder at him, lashes lowered. With her back to him, his eyes are drawn to the red palm print on one perfectly shaped cheek.

He swallows hard, certain it's audible.

Then again, he's only human.

"A little warning," he repeats, his mouth drying as she smiles, slowly, over her shoulder.

God, the way her mouth moves is just …

"Right," she says briskly. "Like, for example: finish taking a shower in three minutes or … else," she proposes. "That would be a little warning."

"But you've never taken a three-minute shower in your – oh," he says, realization dawning, as she flashes him another grin and then sashays into the bathroom without another word.

…

Okay, now they need to rush.

Breathless, disheveled – but showered, with clean bodies if not minds – they stumble around the hotel room with bits of clothing in their hands, struggling to get ready in time.

"This is too – ugh." She tosses aside a shirt he doesn't recognize. "I'm going to wear the white shirt," she announces.

She always does this, as if he's going to object or suggest something else. His critique of her wardrobe is limited to gaping about its prices and complaining when pieces of it are hard to strip off her body when he's trying to get her naked.

"The white shirt sounds fine," he says, since she's waiting. "But – I wouldn't wear white pants," he adds lightly, feeling his cheeks flush at his own innuendo.

She grins at him. "Whose fault is that?"

"Whose idea was it?" he counters.

"Fault and idea aren't the same thing."

"That's not – " He stops, because he's not going to win this argument. Neither of them wins these arguments. In the best of times, the arguments just turn into sex, and while he can't say he any objection to that in principle, he does in practice. Because they're going to be late if they spend any more time on activities that aren't designed specifically to get them to Savvy and Weiss's apartment.

Addison just turns her back, leaning to the ground with agonizingly purposeful slowness to pick up one of her shoes. Hungrily, he watches the white lace of her panties stretch over the rosy (very rosy, he wasn't kidding about the white pants) curves of her –

"Derek."

"What?"

"Get dressed," Addison says firmly.

But she's not that cruel, she does pause for a kiss, and she doesn't protest when both his hands slide over the seductive curve of her back to cup the lace-covered flesh he can't resist. The skin he finds is glowing with heat, sensitive to his touch, and when she gasps against his neck the warm suction goes right between his legs.

"Addie…"

"I know, I know." She pulls back, then purses her lips. "Oh, Derek," she says, sounding somewhere between disappointed and resigned.

Defensively, he holds the shirt she picked out over the evidence of his distraction. It's hardly his fault! "Oh, Derek, what?" he asks, frowning.

"You know what." She frowns. "Well, fine. I can't leave you hanging," she says briskly. "It wouldn't be polite. You haven't really given me any choice here."

"Addison, you're the one who got us into this. You're the one who kept saying …" His voice trails off as her cool fingers take the shirt from his hands.

"I'm the one who got us into this. With my big mouth, you mean?" she asks, her voice a dangerous purr.

"I didn't say that."

"Mmm. You hinted at it though. So let me get us out of it, then," she says, her palm cupping him, stroking confidently in a way that's going to make it impossible for anything except –

"Addison!"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she says innocently, and he watches with pounding pulse as she drops gracefully to her knees – no one can make that move quite like Addison – and rests her hands on his thighs.

She tips her head back to gaze up at him, long hair dangling down her back, and her big blue eyes staring up at him from that position are almost enough, alone, to drive him over the edge.

"Addie…"

"It's okay," she says, stroking his thighs and inching closer. "Relax, honey. My big mouth got us into this, so I think it's only fair that it gets us out of this too."

He opens his own mouth to respond but his words are swallowed when her mouth engulfs him.

He doesn't try to speak again.

…

"See? That didn't take much time at all," she says primly, taking advantage of his limply dangling hands to pull herself back up to her feet. Derek is still standing in the same position she left him, looking dazed. He hasn't said a single word since she first slid her lips around his heat. The closest he's come since then is a couple of gasping breaths and a soft sigh-like thing when she finished lapping up any trace of their encounter from his softened flesh.

Oh. She kind of gets the kitten thing now.

Is it kind of sexy, or kind of gross? She's not sure.

The line can be so thin …

Oh well, she'll think about that later.

Now, she just kisses him – his eyes are glazed, but his lips tug toward a smile.

"Derek …"

"Hm?"

"Get dressed," she says, tossing him his shirt.

And then she heads for the bathroom to brush her teeth, knowing perfectly well she's giving him an unimpeded view of her new white lace panties.

And what they're covering up.

Sometimes it's worth paying top dollar for underwear, she decides, as she brushes her teeth with one hand and uses the other to massage the sore flesh she teased him into marking.

That's going to feel amazing later, she's well aware from experience. It will … marinate, so to speak, during brunch, and then by the time they come back to the hotel for uninterrupted, uncensored, no-holds-barred –

"Addison!"

"What?" she calls through the bathroom door.

"Can I get in there?"

Unfortunately, not until later.

…

Somehow, they make it out of the hotel room. It seems the universe wants to help them, because the elevator arrives with merciful swiftness, right before Derek is about to lose his internal battle not to press Addison against the modern glass walls of the elevator bank and taste her smirking mouth.

Sighing – it may not be a pyrrhic victory, but it's certainly a phallic one – he holds open the elevator door for her.

Which, though gallant, is also stupid because the swing of her hips slows time down enough that the elevator beeps with loud outrage and he nearly gets crushed in the doors.

"Honestly, Derek," Addison scolds, but she looks flattered.

Inside the elevator, he's just about to give up trying to stay on his own side when the doors open and two women who look about ten years younger join them, complaining loudly about the early start to their day.

They're separated now by two other bodies, but Addison smiles at him from across the elevator. First it's in a friendly way, and then not so friendly.

One of her hand – the left, her rings reflecting the light – tucks a few strands of long red hair behind her ear.

Fine. That's just pragmatism.

Then it strokes along her jaw, which is –

Defensible, he supposes.

And over her neck.

Plausible deniability in hard, but he's willing to –

No, he's not, because now that same hand is pausing at her throat to toy with her necklace, and she's tipping her head back against the elevator's glass wall, exposing her long neck, and maybe he should have exercised his marital couture veto for the first time on the white shirt because the thin material is straining against her breasts or her breasts are straining against the material and –

"Are you getting off or not?"

Heat rushes to his face. One of the women on the elevator is looking at him curiously.

Oh god – are they associates from Weiss's law practice, here to spy on him?

"Yes, we're getting off," Addison says smoothly. "Derek," she hisses. "We're in the lobby."

Oh, that kind of getting off.

Of course.

He makes a hasty exit, waiting until the women have passed them before he hooks a finger into the waistband of the slim fitting pants he assumes Addison has selected to torture him, and tugs her away from the hotel's revolving glass doors.

"What?" she asks, looking first innocent and then a little nervous.

"That was a dirty trick in there," he tells her.

She seems to be losing the fight to look innocent.

"Are we going to keep it in check for Weiss and Savvy or not?"

"We are," she assures him. "It's just …"

"Just what?"

"Your shirt," she admits, blushing. "It's blue."

"You're the one who told me to – " he looks down. Damn it.

"You know what blue shirts do to me, Derek."

"You're right, I do. Nothing good has ever happened when I wear a blue shirt."

"On the contrary …" A slow smile tugs at her mobile mouth. "But I take your point. I'll try to do better, okay?"

"That's all I'm asking," he says, mollified.

"And if I don't," she adds, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow as they approach the glass doors, her voice dipping into a throaty whisper, "you can just punish me later."

So much for doing better.

"Addison," he scolds, but she just disappears into the revolving door before him and he has to watch the seductive lines of her body all the way around and around and around …

"Sir, you missed the exit," the bellboy says helpfully.

" …thanks."

"Derek, what took you so – oh!"

She gasps a little as he pulls her against his body. Her eyes widen with surprise, and then darken with lust.

Her insatiable drive is funny, usually, but this is getting a little ridiculous.

Except …

"Honey, is that your … alarm going off?" Addison asks innocently.

"Okay, that's enough," he says, willing the part of his body that can't seem to remember it's not a teenager sometimes to behave itself. "We said we were going to keep ourselves in check, so let's do it."

"Or what?"

"Or nothing," he tells her firmly, trying not to let his face show his amusement at the disappointment in her eyes. "Come on, Addie, Weiss is doing us a favor. Let's try to do what he wants."

"Fine, fine." She sighs. But her expression is troubled.

"What is it?" He waits for her to look at him, tilting his head a little.

"I just … want to talk," she says in a small voice.

"Talk?" Any lingering arousal fades at that word, in that tone. "Why?" he asks warily.

"Why? Because you react like that when I say talk." She takes a deep breath. "Honey, believe me, I am not complaining about how we spent last night … or this morning … but I was just hoping we'd get to talk this weekend."

"We will," he assures her. "And we have talked," he can't help adding. "Not every talk has to be a capital-t Talk."

"No, I know that, it's just – "

She stops talking, looking a little embarrassed.

He gazes over her shoulder, out the glass doors onto the street where the sun is reflecting off the buildings and he can hear the bellman's whistle.

He does know what she means. But the idea of a capital-t Talk makes his stomach tense up. It reminds him of awkward silences in the trailer and resentment in the halls of the hospital. He doesn't want to be reminded of those things.

"Addie … let's just go see Savvy and Weiss, okay?" He keeps his voice gentle.

"Okay," she says quietly.

"Good." He releases her and nods to the waiting bellman, who whistles up a yellow cab.

"Ooh, do you think there'll be lots of traffic?" Addison asks eagerly, apparently back to her good – or at least randy – mood, one of her nimble hands snaking toward the collar of his blue shirt.

He quickly snatches her hand away and opens up the front door of the cab, to the driver's surprised dismay.

"Can I sit up here?" he asks bluntly.

"No," the driver answers … bluntly.

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not? You ask if you can sit up here, I say no. No."

He tries not to notice Addison's smirk.

"Sir," Derek says with dignity, "can you please reconsider?"

The driver rests a hand on the wheel and studies Derek for a moment, looking unimpressed. "Ten dollars," he says.

"What? Ten dollars to sit in an empty seat? Forget it."

"Fine. Twenty."

"That's not how bargaining works!" Derek protests.

"You want to sit in the front or not?"

"Yes," he mutters, fishing in his wallet for a twenty and handing it over, feeling positively fleeced.

But then he watches Addison slide grumpily into the back of the cab, wincing a little as the seat of her pants makes contact with unforgiving vinyl, and a flood of uncensored memories tells him it's worth twenty dollars for the bulletproof plexiglass barrier between them.

Still.

He buckles his seat belt and waits for the driver to pull out into traffic – which he does with no small amount of brake-riding.

Ugh. He hasn't missed cabs.

And twenty dollars! He's annoyed all over again as the driver stops at a red light. He glances in the rearview mirror to see Addison smirking at him. With her right hand, she makes the gesture for money and rolls her eyes.

Then she starts to make another gesture –

And he quickly turns away from the mirror.

"What's wrong, Derek?" Addison asks innocently from the backseat.

"Nothing." But he can't resist continuing. "I mean, it's fine. Twenty dollars. It's just that I've heard of paying for sex but paying for not sex is ridiculous."

"Oh, really? What have you heard about paying for sex?"

The driver interjects. "Men always pay for sex," he observes, shaking his head. "One way or the other."

"Ugh." Addison gives the seat in front of her a kick; Derek frowns at her.

Cut it out, he mouths.

"Derek. Derek."

"What?"

"You're not going to disagree?" she asks, pointing to the driver and apparently losing any pretense of subtlety.

"The man has our lives in his hands, Addie," he protests.

"Fine!" Addison flops back against the seat and folds her arms over her chest. "Then you should probably get used to paying for sex, Derek, because the free stuff is about to dry up!"

"See," the driver says, with a knowing nod. "We all pay for it."

Derek winces.

The rest of the cab ride to Savvy and Weiss's apartment is relatively uneventful; Addison spends it muttering in the backseat and Derek spends it trying to avoid the driver's knowing gaze in case it makes Addison even angrier.

Finally, they pull up next to the familiar navy awning of Savvy and Weiss's building.

Addison hastens out of the cab after a few choice words for the driver.

Derek follows her, then leans into the open window to settle the bill.

"Don't you dare tip him," she tells Derek, who ignores her.

"I have a tip for you, sir," the driver tells him darkly. "Happy wife, happy life."

"Oh, that ship sailed a long time ago," Addison snaps. "That ferryboat, I should say."

"And my tip for you, madam," he says, turning to Addison, "is – "

"Okay, thank you!" Derek interrupts before any more damage can be done, adding a hefty tip in the hopes it will get back to the city that's trying to throw them in jail. He pulls Addison back from the cab and closes the door with finality.

On the sidewalk in front of Savvy and Weiss's building, he lets her huff about the driver for another minute while he puts his wallet away and then calls her name to get her attention.

"What is it?" she scowls.

"Get it out of your system, Addie, so we can go inside."

"It's out of my system," she responds primly, "and so are you."

"Oh, really?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, really! I told you, the free stuff is drying up, so you can just get really familiar again with your right – Derek, what are you doing – "

He's reached out a hand to brush a strand of long hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering at the curve of her neck that never fails to make her melt.

Never. Not even now, while she's clearly fighting it; her eyes flash with annoyance, but she can't seem to help her physical reaction, practically purring at his touch.

He withdraws his hand.

"Yeah … I'm not too worried," he says smugly.

Then he muffles her outraged response with a quick kiss. "Come on, Addie, let's go inside. Our friends are waiting."

…

Waiting indeed.

The door of their apartment is a wide open welcome by the time Addison and Derek get off the elevator, the doorman having called up to announce their arrival.

"Addie!" Savvy practically launches herself at Addison, then stops before they can embrace. "Are you okay?" she asks worriedly. "Did the police hurt you? What about the corrections officers?"

Derek sees Addison draw a breath, most likely preparing to spin a very self-serving tale.

"She's fine," he says quickly.

Addison glares, but it's true. Her most notable injuries as far as he can tell are bruising on her back from the ferry railing, some redness on her knees from her activities yesterday and today, and the marks she practically begged him to leave on her this morning.

"Good," Savvy says, looking a little uncertain. She settles for a kiss on the cheek for both of them. "I'm so glad to see you."

"So are we. And thank you again, Weiss," Derek says meaningfully, glancing at his old friend. Weiss looks wary, his arm around Savvy, apparently afraid Derek and Addison are going to jump each other right in the hallway.

(Fine, they considered it. And they're not naïve enough to think the door was only open as a welcome. He's perfectly aware that Weiss thinks they need supervision.)

And this is only proven when their friends beckon them inside.

After the obligatory ooing and aahing over the typically inviting spread, Derek can't help but notice that the décor is … different.

Savvy and Weiss have opened both leaves of their enormous dining table so that instead of a cozy brunch for four – or even a generously-sized spread for oh, six or either – there's a vast table with one chair at either end, and one across from each other in the middle, with room for several minyans in between.

"Weiss." Derek frowns. "Why are we reenacting the dining room scenes from Citizen Kane?"

"We're just trying to help you keep some distance," Weiss says defensively.

"Some distance, sure. But does that really mean one of has to sit in Toronto?"

"I'll sit in Toronto," Addison offers, giving Derek a look that suggests she hasn't forgiven him for the cab ride. "Canadian men are … well, Sav, you remember."

Savvy giggles, and Weiss and Derek both glare.

"I'm probably going to be a free agent soon," Addison says casually. "So I wouldn't be opposed to another trip to Canada."

"You are not going to be a free agent soon." Derek rolls his eyes. "And you should probably hold off on planning any trips until you're allowed to leave the state. She's upset because of a cab driver," he tells Weiss and Savvy.

"I'm not upset," Addison says with dignity, accepting a cup of coffee from Savvy. "But if I were, I would be upset because of a sexist cab driver, and my husband didn't try to defend me."

"Derek." Weiss frowns. "Is that true?"

"It's … biased," he says finally, after discarding several potential responses that would just sound worse.

"It's true, Weiss," Addison says. "You would never let a cab driver talk to Savvy like that."

"Like what?" Savvy asks with interest, returning from the kitchen with a cup of coffee for Derek.

"This coffee is delicious," Derek says quickly, ignoring Addison's glare, and Weiss picks up on the hint and helps him the change the subject.

He doesn't miss Addison's expression, though. He can read her like an occasionally x-rated (fine, more than occasionally) book, and her message is very clear:

This isn't over.

…

Derek closes his eyes, lost in sensation.

He's trying to maintain decorum, but it's too hard, even knowing how important it is to Addison that this act is done quietly.

Sometimes something is too good for decorum.

Too distracting.

Too … earth-shattering.

"God, that's good," he moans, unable to help himself.

"Derek." Weiss sounds concerned. "Are you all right over there?"

"I'm fine," he says quickly, setting his bagel down on his plate. "I just haven't had a decent bagel in a while."

Savvy looks amused.

But in fairness, it's really an excellent bagel. The texture is perfect. Perfect. And the combination of fresh cream cheese, impeccably cured lox, ripe tomato, spicy red onion, and a smattering of dill is incredible.

He's missed bagel brunches at Savvy and Weiss's.

Smiling at his friends, he takes a dignified sip of water and goes back to – quietly – chewing his bagel.

Across the table, where Addison has been placed about ten feet from him, he sees her lift one long finger to her mouth and delicately lick off a spot of cream cheese from her own bagel.

Damn it.

Of course she's not going to make it easy.

(And he knows what Weiss would say: making it easy it what got the two of you into trouble in the first place.)

He also knows Addison would never lick her fingers clean in public – she still visibly flinches when someone goes for the wrong fork at dinner, which he's fairly certain is down to his mother-in-law and equally certain it was the right choice to minimize contact with Addison's parents.

But table manners are one thing. Even impeccable ones.

And torture – apparently she's still upset over the cab driver – is another.

"Oh!"

He glances up. Addison is apologizing to Savvy, who's dashing into the kitchen and returning with clean dishtowels, while Weiss heroically saves the platter of smoked fish.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so clumsy," Addison says, staring with dismay at a spreading puddle of water engulfing one side of her white shirt.

Addison's not clumsy.

Wait.

"I don't know what happened," she's saying now, taking one of the dishtowels from Savvy and dabbing at the front of her shirt, which is now soaked.

And then, with Savvy and Weiss occupied, she winks at him.

Outraged, he looks at his old friends for support, but neither one notices. Addie smirks at his expression.

Why didn't he tell her to nix the white shirt?

Derek concentrates very hard on the pattern around the rim of his plate.

"You want to borrow a shirt, Addie? You look cold," Savvy says with concern.

Derek makes the mistake of glancing up, briefly, to see that she does, in fact, look cold.

Damn it.

"No, it's fine," Addison says. "It will dry."

"Are you sure?"

"Borrow a shirt, Addison," Derek advises her with his gaze on his plate. With his eyes, he traces the pattern again. It's blue and gold, with swirls or – something. Something that curves.

Curves.

Very visible ones, outlined by transparent fabric.

He trains his eyes away from the tantalizing view.

But that's a mistake too, because his gaze lands on the framed wedding portrait hanging on the wall. Savvy in frothy lace and Weiss in tie and tails, beaming and young. And Addison and Derek, just as beaming as young. A pink bridesmaid dress skims her long body; Derek's arm is wrapped around her. If he were to look closely he'd see a diamond ring on her hand, but no band. Savvy and Weiss got married first. We're next, she whispered to him when they watched Savvy walk up the aisle on her father's arm.

Those memories are dangerous; he turns and then he's looking at the antique table he remembers Addison fussing over when Savvy brought it home, while he and Weiss teased them by saying it looked just like a knockoff.

And then it's the coffee table book on Tuscany Weiss bought for Savvy. Derek bought the same one for Addison, with airline tickets inside.

It's still one of his best gifts.

This apartment is full of history – rich, complex history. Painful, beautiful history.

History that's ruined now.

He swallows hard; his hand shakes a little on his next sip of coffee.

"Addie, are you sure you're okay?" Savvy is asking.

"I'm fine," Addison says bravely, and Derek has to force himself not to roll his eyes at her performance.

"But I don't want you to be cold," Savvy says. "Oh, I have an idea."

Come back with a shirt, come back with a shirt, Derek tries to transmit the request psychically.

It fails.

"I turned up the heat," Savvy announces when she returns. And it seems she's piled much of her long blonde hair atop her head and stripped off her pink cardigan accordingly. From the expression on her husband's face, he's fairly certain Weiss is starting to feel a little more sympathetic to Derek's pain.

"Ooh, Sav, they look great," Addison says, apparently distracted from her own wet shirt by Savvy's dry – but clinging – one.

And she said they, not it.

So it's not her shirt she means.

"Don't they?" Savvy beams, pulling her shoulders back a little. "You can thank Mark."

Derek coughs and splutters around his mouthful of coffee.

"Mark recommended someone for the reconstructive surgery," Weiss says quickly. They're the only ones sitting at the table now, Addison and Savvy standing together a few feet away.

"Someone great," Savvy adds, a nervous trill in her voice as she glances at Derek. "Mark just did a consult or whatever. He was really nice about it."

Addison looks frozen, one hand resting on Savvy's bare shoulder. The word Mark seems to have stopped her in her tracks, and Derek finds himself annoyed again.

"Oh, Mark is nothing if not really nice," Derek says sourly. "Right up until he sleeps with your wife."

Addison's cheeks turn pink.

"Derek," Weiss says quietly.

The air has turned tense, alarm bells practically audible, but he keeps going.

"No, it's fine." Derek stands up, tucking his chair in neatly, then turns to Savvy. "I'm glad he was helpful, Sav. I just hope you didn't help him out in return."

He knows he's gone too far the moment the words leave his mouth. Weiss pushes back his chair so abruptly it screams against the hardwood floor, advancing on Derek.

"Honey. Honey." In a flash, Savvy has moved between them. "It's okay," she says, her tone appeasing.

"It's not okay," Weiss corrects sharply.

Addison, standing alone now in her still-damp shirt, looks like she'd like to disappear.

Weiss is inches from him now, Savvy hanging onto his arm.

"Derek, I don't care how sexually frustrated you are, you don't talk to my wife that way. Ever."

The words are cold, harsh – and Derek realizes he's never actually seen Weiss angry like this before. He's seen him curse the screen when the Yankees lose and he's seen him complain about things, even get heated about work politics or real politics, but not angry. It changes his whole face, his brows knitted together, and for a moment Derek is certain he's going to throw a punch.

"I'm sorry," he says, and means it. Savvy hasn't done anything wrong. Guilt floods him immediately. Here's Savvy being so brave about her health ordeal, multiple surgeries, and he basically accuses her of sleeping with Mark. "Savvy, I'm sorry," he repeats, looking her in the eyes this time. "I really am."

"It's okay," she says immediately, giving Derek a faint smile. "Thank you, Derek."

She's still resting a manicured hand on Weiss's chest; he doesn't acknowledge Derek's apology.

"Can we please go back to the table?" Savvy asks. "I'd like to finish my coffee. Weiss, honey…" she prods gently when he doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry," Derek says again, directing the words to Weiss this time. "I was out of line, Weiss. I know that. It won't happen again."

"It better not," Weiss says darkly, but he seems slightly mollified, allowing Savvy to lead him back toward the table where their coffee awaits. She settles on his lap once he's seated, apparently not chancing his deciding to get up and throw a punch at Derek after all.

Weiss doesn't seem to mind; with one arm around his wife, he uses his free hand to take a long sip of coffee.

Derek glances questioningly at Addison, who's still standing right where she stood during his entire confrontation with Weiss. She doesn't look at him.

At the table, Savvy is murmuring something to Weiss, whose attention is focused on her. When Addison still doesn't move, Derek approaches her.

"Are you okay?" he asks, somewhat grudgingly.

She doesn't respond.

"Addison." He touches her shoulder and feels the startled reaction of her muscles under his palm.

"What's wrong with you? You're miles away."

"Six miles?" she asks ruefully. But her eyes are shining with tears, making her joke sad instead of funny.

"Addison." He's surprised, taking her arm in his and walking her further away from the dining room for some privacy. "Is this because of what I said?"

"No," she says immediately. "I understand why you said it. It's my fault, not yours. You and Weiss never fight. I've never seen you fight."

He nods, still trying to understand. "It's okay," he says when she looks expectantly at him.

"It's not okay," she counters, sounding much like Weiss. "Don't you get it? You and Weiss are happy when I'm not here. Savvy and Weiss are happy when I'm not here. You're happy when I'm not here."

"Addison." He shakes his head. "That's not – look, this isn't the time, or the place."

"Yeah." She looks down at her hands. "That's kind of our problem, isn't it? It's never the time or the place."

"Are you talking about the ferry?"

"I'm talking about everything."

Derek sighs and glances toward the dining room table. Savvy and Weiss still appear preoccupied with each other, so he leads Addison through the swinging doors into their kitchen.

Addison follows him without complaint, leaning her elbows on the marble island. He can only see the back of her, but her posture indicates she's tired.

"Addie."

She turns around. "It's never going to go away, is it?" Her voice trembles. "I thought we were … I mean, we were having …"

Her voice trails off before she can say either fun or great sex, either of which seems appropriate.

"I shouldn't have said anything." He knows it's true. He knew it even when he was saying it, that his short lived enjoyment, the little thrill of meanness, wouldn't last. He's done this dance enough since Addison arrived in Seattle.

Are you done, Derek? Hurting me back, I mean.

"No, it's not your fault," she says. "It's mine."

"Can't it be both of ours?" he tries.

She smiles a little. "Yeah … okay." But then she looks pensive again, twisting the rings on her left hand. "Poor Savvy and Weiss. Weiss bails us out of jail, they invite us over for brunch, and …"

"I know."

Addison looks so sad – whether because of what's happened to their marriage or the devastation of being a less than perfect houseguest – that he can't really stand it. His hand rises of its own accord and brushes lightly against her jaw.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

Her eyes meet his. Tears that never fell are still shimmering on their surface. "You already apologized. Twice."

"I apologized to Savvy and I apologized to Weiss," Derek says. "But I didn't apologize to you."

"You don't have to – "

"I'm sorry for what I said. I might have swung at Savvy, in there, but – I was aiming at you."

"Yeah." Addison looks down at her hands. "I kind of got that. But ... thank you. And I'm sorry too, for - "

"I know," he says, before she can go through the litany again. She turns her gaze up to his and he touches her face, gently, her cheek coming to rest in his palm.

"Oh, come on."

The sarcastic, annoyed words echo in the quiet kitchen.

"We're not doing anything," Derek says quickly, pulling his hand down.

"Yeah ... I've heard that one before."

Weiss seems more like himself again, at least, his anger gone. He turns to Addison. "Addie, Savvy's looking for you."

She nods.

And Weiss isn't the only one whose anger is gone. One glance at Addison's faintly quivering chin and he's certain he doesn't care if it ends up hurting their criminal defense. He pulls her close again and places a gentle kiss on her lips anyway. She looks surprised for a moment … and then pleased. The tears that were clinging to her lashes are gone now.

Derek watches the door swing shut behind her.

"I guess she's not mad at you anymore," Weiss observes mildly.

Derek blinks, confused by the order of the pronouns.

"Oh, you mean for the cab ride?"

"Derek, don't be an idiot," Weiss says, but his tone borders on affectionate.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, sleeping with Mark was about as mad at you as she could get, don't you think? Even if she didn't use words … just bad decisions."

Derek considers this. "You might be right."

Weiss nods sagely. "All my clients say that eventually."

"I thought I wasn't your client."

"That's beside the point." Weiss looks amused, though.

"I really am sorry, Weiss," Derek says quietly. "What happened to our marriage has nothing to do with the two of you and I should never have said that to Savvy. I regret it, and I'm sorry."

He's not sure the last time he apologized this much. It feels … interesting.

Weiss just nods again. "I know you are. Forget about it."

His tone is a little short, though, and Derek isn't quite sure he's forgiven.

"I've never seen you that angry," Derek says hesitantly.

"Yeah, well." Weiss brings some of the dishes to the sink and starts running water. "Would you let me talk like that to Addie?"

"Of course not," he says without really thinking about it.

"So you get it. It's done."

"You're really not angry anymore?" Derek asks doubtfully.

"No. You're forgiven. Unless…"

Weiss pauses, drawing out the sentence enough to make Derek nervous.

"Unless?" he asks finally, prompting his friend.

Weiss clears his throat. "Unless … you started rooting for the Mariners out there," he finishes.

Derek exhales an audible sigh of relief.

"Not even for a second."

"Good."

…

"I'm so sorry about that."

"Don't you start apologizing now," Savvy scolds. "Those two and their … chest thumping is about all I can take today."

"Yeah." Addison glances at her old friend. "I've never seen Weiss like that."

"I have," Savvy says simply. "He can get … protective."

"And you don't enjoy it at all," Addison prods teasingly.

"I don't. I hate violence," Savvy announces primly.

Addison just regards her calmly.

"Fine, it was a little hot." Savvy smiles, then shakes her head. "But don't quote me on that. And I don't think I would have enjoyed it quite as much if blood had been involved. We're not all surgeons, you know."

"True."

"But you're okay now?" Savvy asks gently. "You and Derek?"

"Yes … and no." Addison tries to put it into words. "We kind of … left our problems behind," she says carefully. "Or that's how it felt. You know, on the plane, and then in the hotel …"

"On the ferry," Savvy adds with a mischievous look, but falls quiet again, encouraging Addison to go on.

"And it was … nice," Addison admits. "More than nice. And then when we got here, it was still like that for a while … and then it wasn't."

"Ah." Savvy seems to be considering this. "Our place is the first spot you've gone where there's history," she offers gently, "isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you didn't go back to the brownstone, or any of your old haunts. You stayed somewhere new. Maybe being here, where you spent a lot of time when you were married … well, you get it."

She does, and it's an interesting proposition. "This wasn't supposed to get so serious," she says, feeling a little silly. "We were actually … having fun."

She gives Savvy a brief and somewhat censored description of the previous evening.

Savvy looks impressed. "A whole tour group?" she asks, eyes wide. "What exactly were you – "

"Never mind," she says quickly.

"Because marriage is more than great sex and reminiscing about all the innocent people you've scarred with your antics," Savvy says gently. "It's the tough stuff, too."

"But that's not what this weekend was for," Addison blurts.

"No?" Savvy studies her for a moment. "Are you sure about that?"

"I … don't know." Savvy's expression is giving her pause.

"Look, I just know you're both here. So you have to come up for air once in a while. You can't spend all day in bed. You can work out the kinks – and yes, I know what Weiss would say to that, but I'm not going for the double entendre – and then get back in bed, you know. It's not one or the other."

"How did you get so wise?"

"It was the near-death experience," Savvy says sagely.

"So … what am I supposed to do now?"

"Well, you're sticking around until your court date, right?"

"We don't have much of a choice."

"Which means that instead of a weekend, you have … a whole bunch of days you weren't expecting to spend together."

"And you think we should spend them working on our marriage?"

"Addie, you realize that it's not just the difficult conversations that count as working on your marriage? The sex counts too, so I can't really be mad at you about that – even if Weiss wasn't thrilled with how you went about it, and neither was the NYPD."

"Oh." She considers this. "So what does that mean?"

"It means that my advice is to be open. Just … take it as it comes." Savvy smiles warmly at her. "Oh, and Addie?"

"Hm?"

"That time, I was going for the double entendre."

…

The air has mercifully cleared and Derek notes that it's reminiscent of the way he and Addison would sometimes fight, back when their marriage was young. They would be frustrated, loud, hearts pounding – and then it was over, it was calm. Sometimes the pressure builds … and just has to be released.

So it's a relief that when he and Weiss finish up the dishes, bantering good naturedly about sports and not touching on any sensitive topics, they find Savvy and Addison curled up on opposite sides of the couch with coffee cups, in identical postures with their legs tucked under them. It's peaceful, and familiar too.

"Hey," Addison says quietly to him. She raises her coffee cup a little in salute.

"Hey." He sits down on the chair next to her side of the couch; she offers him a sip of her coffee and he takes it, then hands her back the cup.

Savvy glances from one of them to the other, then to Weiss, who settles in on the couch behind her. Derek is a little envious of their positions, but he's being subtle about it.

... but apparently not subtle enough.

"We're not outlaws," Weiss says smugly, "so we don't have to keep our distance."

"Are you this hard on all your clients?" Derek asks.

Weiss looks like he's about to say something, then closes his mouth again. Instead, he just moves his head a little, seeming like he's taking in the whole room.

"We haven't done this in a long time," he muses.

Derek nods. It's true, but he can tell Weiss is also thinking what he's thinking – that they used to do this all the time. Addison's hand, resting on the arm of the couch, twitches a little bit. Derek covers it with his and after a few seconds her palm turns until their fingers are entwined.

"What he means is … it's good to have you back," Savvy says.

"… just until our court date," Addison clarifies.

"Oh. Right." Savvy looks from one of them to the other again. "Oh, wait – I can't believe I didn't ask, after all this. I forgot the whole point of your trip here was to go to Fourchette. How was dinner last night?"

…

Short-lived peace is still peace, Derek decides, even if it's short-lived.

Even if it means that he and Addison are currently holed up in a small powder room hanging onto the doorknob while both Savvy and Weiss yell at them from the other side of the door.

"I can't believe – "

"Did you seriously – "

"You are unbelievable – "

"Not to mention insatiable – "

"Your whole defense is supposed to be premised on that restaurant!" Weiss bellows after a moment of welcome silence from their tandem yelling.

"That's not a very strong defense," Addison can't help responding.

Derek elbows her.

"No kidding, Addie!" Weiss shouts.

Except he doesn't say kidding.

"All right, enough." Derek raps on the door from the inside. "If we come out, you have to stop yelling at us."

"No deal," Weiss says firmly, rattling the locked doorknob a few times.

"Why would we ever agree to that?" Savvy adds.

Addison turns to Derek. "Why are we friends with lawyers?"

"Maybe you knew all along you'd turn into criminals," Weiss suggests from the other side of the door.

"Addie, come on," Savvy cajoles from outside the door.

"Okay, enough," Weiss says. "I'm getting the key."

"You have a key?"

"We have a key. I'm getting it, and you're getting out of there. Just – Sav, you wait there in case they try to pull a fast one," they hear Weiss direct.

And then … silence.

"He's gone," Addison whispers.

"How much time do you think we have?" Derek asks, turning on the faucet.

"At least a few minutes."

"Or a minute anyway."

The running water is surprisingly soothing. Actually, it reminds her of that waterfall where they –

"Derek, wait."

He waits.

"We can't do this."

"We can't?" He's confused. Hasn't every moment since the plane left the runway at Sea-Tac confirmed that they can, in fact, do this? That they can do this very, very well?

"No. We can't. Look, all Weiss asked from us is that we … behave."

"Right …"

"And we owe him."

"We do," Derek agrees. "Both of them," he adds.

Addison nods.

"Do you really think we can do this?" he asks, hearing the doubt in his own voice.

"It's going to be hard," she says hesitantly.

They both pause to practice their newfound self-discipline by not calling attention to her choice of vocabulary.

… and then congratulate themselves twice, first for pulling it off and second for not celebrating by, well, pulling it off.

They draw twin deep breaths.

And then Derek shuts off the water.

…

They can hear Weiss muttering as he approaches. "It was under a pile of grogers," he's saying to Savvy as he approaches. "What was it doing there?"

"I have no idea – ooh, actually, didn't your sister bring her boys over last Purim?"

"So?"

"So…"

Savvy's voice trails off.

Inside the bathroom, Derek winces, wondering if they're going to get blamed for this too.

"Anyway, now we have it. We're coming in there!" Weiss adds, raising his voice to make sure they can hear inside the bathroom. "And we're not under any illusions about what we're going to find, but if you could at least make sure that bathing suit areas are – "

The door bursts open.

"…covered," he finishes slowly. "I'd appreciate it."

Next to him, Savvy's mouth is open with surprise.

"Derek. Addison." Weiss looks from one of them to the other. "Really?"

"Really," Derek says.

He can't blame Weiss for his surprise. He knows what his friends saw when they unlocked the bathroom door.

Addison is sitting on the closed toilet, legs crossed primly, hair perfectly neat, cheeks a normal, well-mannered color.

Derek is more than arms' length away, leaning against the wall. His arms are folded over his chest, and his heartbeat is exactly what one would expect in a, well, normal situation.

"You really didn't –"

Weiss looks from one of them to the other.

"We really didn't," Derek assures him.

Savvy and Weiss exchange a look.

"Wow," Weiss says simply.

"Okay, were we really that bad?"

"You mean when you lived here before, or on this trip?"

"Either," Derek says.

"Both," Addison says.

Weiss turns to Derek first. "Yes, or yes," he says, before turning to Addison. "Yes and yes."

Savvy beams at his answers and moves a little closer to her husband – she's always been a stickler for grammatical precision – and Addison starts wondering if they're going to be the next two to get arrested for indecent exposure.

"The point is," Derek cuts in hastily, "we really didn't. We're making a fresh start."

"Turning over a new leaf," Addison adds.

"Going straight."

"Coming clean."

All four of them pause.

"The point is," Addison finishes with dignity, "all that is behind us. So if you'll let us out of here, we can go back to having a nice, normal, civilized brunch."

Weiss and Savvy exchange a look.

"And we're going to make up for the reservation," Derek says. "We'll – reschedule."

"You can't reschedule at Fourchette," Addison and Savvy say in unison.

"The point is, we'll make up for everything." Derek says hurriedly. "The point is …"

His voice trails off.

"Just let them out," Savvy tells Weiss. "I know we're mad and everything, but I've really missed Addie and I don't want to lose any more time without catching up."

"Oh, Sav." Addison looks touched. Swiftly, she crosses the floor of the powder room and the two women embrace.

"It's just really good to see you," Savvy says, her voice somewhat muffled by Addison's hair.

"I was going to say the same thing," Addison says. "But then I got distracted."

Derek is confused, but then Addison pulls back and, unfortunately, clears up his confusion.

"Sav, they feel amazing."

"I know, right?" Savvy grins. "They do incredible work now."

Derek concentrates on the pattern in the white-on-white floor tile. This really isn't anything he needs to –

"And they're so high!" Addison sounds impressed.

"I know. It's like being nineteen again. Remember – "

"Oh, I remember."

Addison sounds wistful. Derek considers interrupting to remind her that he's spent the last twenty-four in very close proximity to her very-not-nineteen breasts and he has zero complaints, but … it doesn't seem like the right time.

Still, he reminds himself to make it very clear later.

He glances up, and then regrets it immediately when what he sees is Savvy holding her long hair off her face while Addison, eyes wide, places one of her hand right on –

"Addison!"

"What?" She turns to Derek, eyes wide.

He exchanges an uncomfortable look with Weiss.

"…nothing," he says, at glares from both women.

"Derek, I'm happy to see Savvy looking so good, that's all. Aren't you?"

"Happy that Savvy looks good?" Derek exchanges an even more uncomfortable look with Weiss. How the hell is he supposed to answer that? Rock/hard-place wise, it's about one step up from when did you stop beating your wife?

"Um …." No help is forthcoming. "Savvy always looks good," he tries after a few moments of awkward silence.

He sees Weiss give him a subtle thumbs up.

"Thank you, Derek," Savvy says, smiling at him. She turns back to Addison. "The texture is incredible, don't you think?"

"Absolutely."

"Sav," Weiss says, his tone deferential, "shouldn't we let Derek out of the bathroom?"

"What? Oh, sure," Savvy says distractedly, taking a few steps away from the doorframe so Derek can exit.

"I just can't get over how great they look," Addison is saying, as Savvy turns to one side, and then the other.

"That means a lot. I know how many breast exams you've done."

Addison laughs. "I wasn't even thinking of that, but – okay, fair enough."

Savvy grins. "Ooh, do you want to see?" she asks suddenly.

"Want to see what?" Derek asks nervously.

The women ignore him.

"Of course I do!" Addison beams.

Oh.

See that.

Or should he say those.

Addison's eyes are sparkling with what Derek is almost 100% sure is excitement for her friend's massively successful reconstructive surgery.

But still.

"Be careful," Derek advises, "she's insatiable."

He throws a glance at Weiss after that, worried the other man will hear it as an insult, but he's chuckling.

"I'm well aware she's insatiable," Savvy says with a grin, "I lived with her for four years and two of those were in a shared bedroom."

"Wait, what does that – "

"But since it's not Spring Fling and it's not two-for-one Tuesdays at Margarita Joe's… I think I'm safe."

"Wait, what?!"

They don't respond.

Instead, arms linked, the two women head down the hallway toward what Derek knows to be Savvy and Weiss's bedroom.

Derek turns to Weiss. "Did you know this?"

"I did not know this."

"How did we not know this?"

"I don't know," Weiss says, still gazing toward the bedroom with a glazed expression. "But you know what I do know?"

"What?"

"I know we need to know more about this."

"Agreed."

They start down the hall after the girls, full of questions.

To be continued. What did you think? Still fluffy and filthy, but with a feeling or two - I mean, it IS Addek. And I'm me, so I'm planning to continue. (Along with my other WIPs, I promise.) Do you enjoy sex-crazed Addek as much as I do? Do you want to know more about what Derek and Weiss want to know more about? Review and let me know!