Notes: Nothing more or less than Addison and Derek spending Christmas together at the Shepherd house for the first time. Fluffy and merry and bright and character study-ish. And, okay, a little somber, too, because Childhood Addie stuff is usually that way. It also features a much nicer Carolyn Shepherd, friendlier older sisters, and a few other non-canon-compliant details, because for those of us who watch(ed) both Grey's and Private Practice, we have zero time for the whiplash from So You Are Close to Oh So You Aren't Close to Omg Great Mom to Omg Terrible Mom to Omg Ring Withholder to Why Are You All So Mean to I'm Supposed To Believe You Raised Your Kids In Westchester?
This is lengthier than I intended for it to be, but I feel that it's stronger as a one-shot, and for those who have read my stuff before, nothing about the length will be surprising. Me writing something short makes about as much sense as saying Grey's and Private Practice have never had a single continuity error. I hope you like this one though, and I hope that in the spirit of Addison and Derek's "season," you'll let me know if you do. :)
All Your Winters Will Have a Christmas
"Today's arm day at the gym, huh?"
"Sorry." Addison only half-hears the question. She has been watching out the window as they make their way north on I-87. There are piles of snow—still looking remarkably bright and unblemished—cleared to the far side of the ice-smeared guardrail. She directs her attention back to Derek again, who is grinning at her. "What did you say?"
Derek does a small nod towards the cupcake carrier in Addison's lap before refocusing on the stretch of road in front of him. "I was joking that you can probably relax your grip. I don't think the cupcakes are going anywhere, Addie. Those holder things…they're like test tube racks, but with food instead of blood samples." This makes Addison laugh, if a bit indulgently. Her boyfriend is a lover of science, through and through. What can't he relate back to medicine at this point? "I don't even think my mom has one of those things," Derek adds, tone thoughtful. "And she pretty much has one of everything, baking-wise."
"It actually belongs to Naomi," Addison tells him. "If it were me, I was just going to use Tupperware or something." Naomi was practically scandalized when Addison mentioned how she intended to transport the cupcakes to the Shepherd house. Naomi then opened a cabinet—the baking cabinet, which Addison can count on one hand how often she has gone into during the time she has shared an apartment with Naomi—and produced a three-tiered portable container that could hold up to thirty-six cupcakes. "And obviously…" she gives Derek a rueful look. "Nai had a big role in making the cupcakes."
Addison relaxes the bear hug she has had around the bulk of the container since she and Derek left Manhattan. She cannot help but feel pleased as she inspects the top row of cupcakes; they turned out nice. Each is covered with a mound of red frosting, and then white frosting has been piped carefully around the edges and at the top to create cheery-looking Santa hats. Addison had considered getting cookies from Levain, or pastries from Orwasher's, maybe, but she decided a homemade treat would be more personal, and probably more appreciated by Mrs. Shepherd (Carolyn, she reminds herself, because the first time Addison met Derek's mother, Mrs. Shepherd told her to call her Carolyn). And thankfully, Naomi had not left yet to go home for Christmas, which worked out well, since Addison needed some (or a lot of) help. You can bring Santa hat cupcakes, Naomi had suggested, and she rose to the occasion beautifully after describing her vision to Addison. The cupcakes Naomi decorated turned out better, but Addison's ones still look presentable. Addie, I promise you, Naomi had insisted when Addison hesitantly picked up one of the piping bags. If you can coordinately trim through deep fascia, you can keep your hand steady while adding a little frosting.
"But you made the cupcakes with her," Derek contributes encouragingly. He was not there for the flurry of baking the girls did yesterday, but Addison does not really let people do anything for her, if she can help it. Not that she needed to bake—Derek's mom told him they did not need to bring anything other than themselves, which was both polite and practical, since the amount of food in the Shepherd house at Christmastime could feed a battalion. Derek understands Addison's desire to not "show up empty-handed" though, much like he understands that no matter how much he has prepped his girlfriend for what Christmas with his family is usually like (loud and crowded, but otherwise fine), she has remained worried about fitting in.
"There's nothing to be nervous about." He knows this could seem like a non-sequitur, but he and Addison have been dating since September of the year they started med school, so they just…know each other. Derek does not need his girlfriend to utter the words to be able to recognize what she is thinking. Their relationship is more concentrated now when balanced against its beginning, which was about blushing and frantic-limbed lust (there is still plenty of that though, in Derek's opinion) and falling for each other. Now they just…now they just are. He has never felt like this with anyone before. "My mom likes you," he reminds Addison. "My sisters like you. The kids like you. Wait." Something occurs to him. "Did we remember to put the—"
"The candy is in there," Addison finishes, anticipating the rest of his question. She crooks her thumb towards the back seat, where there is a large cardboard box filled with presents that have been carefully layered to make sure everything could fit. The candy had been as last-minute as the cupcakes, when Derek brought over chocolate covered in golden, crinkly foil shaped like coins to add to the Christmas-themed bags for his nieces and nephew (Addison and Derek shopped together for the presents, but Addison's apartment is infinitely neater and more organized than the one Derek shares with Mark, so it felt reasonable to store all Shepherd-related gifts at her place). Derek told her that he and his sisters used to get chocolate coins in their stockings when they were little, so it would be fun to do it with the next generation, too, and Addison just nodded, as though it made sense. Logically, it does make sense, of course, but the Shepherds are a family with traditions, especially at holidays, and this is something new for Addison. Her family is nothing like that.
She recites in her head the names of Derek's nieces, and his only (for just a bit longer) nephew: Nora, Connor, Grace, Maggie, Claire. His nieces and nephew. Addison's nieces and nephew one day, too. That is the plan, at least, because marriage is—astoundingly—foreseeable. And as far as Derek's assurances about her being welcome in his family's home…Addison knows he is right. She has not spent much time with the kids, but they do seem to like her. The same can be said for Derek's sisters, and his mom, though her time with them has been limited as well, save for some dinners in the city with Nancy, and a few family get-togethers Derek invited her to. Addison was not sure at first what Carolyn would think of her, but if she puts herself in Carolyn's shoes for a minute, viewing everything as a mother (as odd as that is), then it is not hard to see that Addison's kindness and work-ethic and ability to make her son smile are far more important than the very different backgrounds Addison and Derek come from.
"I'm excited to see Nancy." Addison reaches a non-cupcake-clutching hand out to fiddle with the radio, in search of a station to replace the one with a now weakening signal. She is excited to see all of them, but of Derek's four sisters, she is closest to Nancy, and knows her the best. Nancy was in her final year of med school at neighboring NYU when Addison and Derek started at Columbia, so Addison was able to log a decent number of hours with Derek's third sister before Nancy and John moved to Connecticut (where he is originally from, and where Nancy is doing her residency). "And to see how much she's grown."
Nancy is expecting her first baby in the spring. Addison adores Nancy because Nancy is Nancy, but if she is honest, she also likes having the connection because Nancy and John are on the same trajectory as her and Derek, but three years ahead. It might be silly, but Nancy and John are like Future Addison and Derek, Addison feels, so it is interesting to watch them embrace new milestones and carve out a life together. Nancy met John during her first year at NYU, and even though he was pursuing an MBA, not a medical degree…still. Surviving any sort of dual higher education together is a feat. They dated for several years, and then got married shortly before Nancy started her program at Hartford Hospital. The only difference is the pregnancy timeline. Addison does want babies someday, but she wants to be further along in her career first. She and Derek have not really had much conversation about kids yet—other than acknowledging they both want them, which he was quicker to admit than she was—but Addison believes her boyfriend will be supportive of her desire to get through her residency first, and maybe a fellowship, too. She does not have company with this mindset when it comes to Derek's older sisters, but they do seem to understand. When she was talking with Nancy a few months ago at Carolyn's birthday dinner, Nancy told her, perhaps prompted by the approving you're so good with her comment that Carolyn made to Addison earlier when she was holding one of the nieces: Our baby wasn't planned, and even though I'm happy about it, and John is, too, I'd encourage you to accomplish your professional goals first, if you can. I'm going to wind up being mommy tracked, so I'm honestly not sure if I'm even going to want to do an MFM fellowship. I can, realistically, and John would be on board, but it'll be harder with kids. Liz, who was pregnant with her second by the time she reached the end of her pediatric residency program, had been standing close by during Nancy's conversation with Addison, and said something similar while the remainder of the guests were on the other side of the room trying to convince Kathleen—Kathleen "calm down, it was just a joke" Shepherd that night—to make amends with Nancy.
"I'm glad it's a boy," Derek says, which coaxes Addison out of her thoughts. "The Shepherds have always been pretty short-stocked with those. Although…" he smirks. "If I were you, I wouldn't say anything out loud about Nancy's growth." The Nancy and Kathleen squabble at his mom's birthday party in September had been patched up—about ten minutes from insult to apology, which is nearly record-breaking in the Shepherd world—but the encounter will live in infamy, as is the case with some of the more notable Shepherd fights. Poor Addison was there with the rest of them to witness Kathleen, who is a consummate professional with her patients (Derek assumes), but decidedly more blunt with family members, proffer some advice when Nancy went back for a third helping of lasagna: Nancy, you do know that pregnancy isn't supposed to be Templeton with a 'veritable smorgasbord' or an all-you-can-eat buffet, right?
"Yeah." Addison smiles in amusement. "I definitely won't be making any size or Charlotte's Web-related food jokes." On their drive back to the city, Addison had assured a very sheepish Derek that it was okay, and that his family's behavior hadn't horrified her. At least Kathleen apologized, and she seemed to understand why her comment made Nancy feel bad, she told Derek. Her words hung there for a few seconds, and Derek—who knows her so well—reached over to companionably squeeze her hand, an unspoken I get it for how many familial things Addison has had to heal from without the apologies that should have accompanied them.
"Oh." Addison withdraws her questing fingers when she finally locates a radio station that is playing Christmas music. "I love this one," she shares with Derek as Judy Garland's rich, velvety-sounding voice fills the car.
"Me too." It is a somber song, a more sentimental one that inevitably makes Derek think of his family gathering together. He always looks forward to Christmas, but he does not think he has ever looked forward to any Christmas as much as he is looking forward to the one just two days from now. And it is all because of Addison.
Are you sure? She said last month when Derek asked if she wanted to spend Christmas with him. I don't want to intrude on your family time.
I'm sure. I want you to come home with me, Addie. The previous Christmas, Derek had embarrassingly counted the days until they were reunited, and in hindsight, he regretted not inviting her. It was their second Christmas as a couple, but they had only been dating a little over a year, so he had wondered if it was too soon to bring a significant other home for the holidays—surely there were rules and expectations around this (of which he probably could have just asked Addison, because if anyone would know, it would be her, thanks to Bizzy being a slightly more critical version of a Dear Abby column). Derek knew he should have just asked Addison though, instead of reverting to his shy, awkward high school self and casually inquiring, "So, what are you doing for Christmas?" He had met the Captain and Bizzy, so he knew what they were like, and when Addison told him, "Oh, I'm just going to go to Connecticut for a few days and spend time with my family," Derek felt his chest tighten, because as the song currently playing goes, there would not be happy golden days in the Montgomery home. There would maybe be elaborate, hotel-fancy decorations (put up by the many people her parents employ, he assumes), and gifts, but Derek knew Addison's parents did not have in their range of emotions a general…spirit of Christmas, even if his girlfriend had not said it in so many words at the time.
He can remember at Christmas dinner last year when his mom asked him if anything was missing, the first word that popped into his head was Addison, even though the question was more about available side dishes. But Derek made the decision right then and there that next Christmas, he was going to ask Addison if she wanted to come home with him, and he would make sure she knew how much he wanted her to.
Because he did. And does. His girlfriend's enthusiasm for the season—decorating her apartment, exploring the shops at the Winter Village, ice skating, watching Christmas movies, strolling around their neighborhood on the lookout for decorated stoops and windows strung with lights—is infectious. Derek initially wondered if Addison enjoys Christmas because her childhood was not particularly festive and warm, so it is almost like she is embracing the holiday in spite of her parents, but he thinks maybe Addison at her very core was built to love Christmas no matter what her upbringing was like. She's just…incredibly special that way. She just is.
"Hey…" Derek says quietly, and his all-time favorite Christmas guest peeks over at him, her eyes looking even bluer in the pale, dappled winter sunlight straining through the windows. "I'm glad we're spending Christmas together."
"Wait a minute." Addison starts to laugh as Derek eases his car to the side of the road in a sleepy-looking, woodsy suburb just outside of Albany. "It looks so nice." She peers blissfully out the window, her eyes skating over multi-colored lights wrapped around the roof, and a Christmas wreath with a plaid ribbon fixed to the slightly weather-worn front door. "I love it. You made it sound like your house was like…Griswold-ish this time of year."
She has been to Derek's house twice before. And she loves it—the exterior with its dark green shutters, and a maple tree in the front yard that still holds a birdhouse Derek and his siblings gave Carolyn years ago for Mother's Day, and the interior with its soft colors, the stone fireplace, the rattan free-standing shelf in the living room that features pictures of the late Christopher Shepherd, and artwork from the grandchildren that covers nearly every square inch of the fridge. Your house is so cozy, Addison told Derek the first time she was there, and she hoped he understood she meant it in a good way—the best way—since certain adjectives are essentially WASP-code for "shit hole." Not the case with the Shepherd house though.
Derek grins as he twists his key to shut off the engine. "It's the inside that's like Clark Griswold's house," he clarifies. "It's a combination of Griswold-ish and antique Christmas store. So…that's Liz's van." He points towards the snow-dusted driveway, which is only wide enough for one vehicle. The space used to be treated as first come, first served, but Liz has the most kids to usher in and out, and is also the oldest, so the Shepherd siblings tend to leave the space for her when they are all in town. "And I think…I think that's Kate and Max over there." Derek gestures to the other side of the street, where a dark gray car is parked. "Maybe. When I talked to her a few weeks ago, she said they were thinking about trading the Audi in. You ready?" He asks Addison. "It'll probably be easier to just go in and say 'hi' first, and then we can come out and unload."
Addison slips her hand into Derek's as they head up the walkway. He surprises her by not stopping to knock. They just…go in, and perhaps the real Christmas miracle is that there is not a throng of Shepherds rushing to the front door to greet them. Addison murmurs a quiet thank you when she feels Derek ease her coat off her shoulders to add it to the wobbly coat rack. She sees the staircase first, which has garland climbing the handrail, and then her eyes adjust to more of her surroundings to take in the Christmas details sprinkled across the large table in the entryway. There is a wooden Nativity scene with a mossy roof over the manger, and beside it are sparkly bottle-brushed trees in pink and green, a ceramic Santa, two Nutcracker-themed snow globes, and a boxy-looking advent calendar with pull-out drawers. On the tier below is an entire winter village; each piece has been carefully placed on fluffy fake snow. Addison thinks she would probably need to squat directly in front of the table to catch everything, but from her position, she does notice a train station, a clock tower, a building with Santa's Workshop on its banner, a church, and some sort of camper—or a trailer, or whatever those things are called—that lights up on the inside.
(She is struck with a memory—she was maybe nine or ten at the time—of seeing a hand-painted Cratchit's Corner house from A Christmas Carol in a store window. When she asked Bizzy if she could get it though, Bizzy told her no, not because Addison didn't need another material item, but because it was tacky.)
"So…it's a lot, yeah?"
"It's perfect," Addison replies, almost reverent-sounding. As for Derek's prior classification of what the interior of his house looks like…it is not "Griswold-ish and antique Christmas store" as much as it is Bible meets North Pole meets Sears Wish Book. However, it is maybe the most beautiful Christmas setup Addison has ever seen. And if the entryway is this detailed—the living room is on the left, but the wall extends fairly far out, so she cannot see much else from here—she can only imagine how festive the remainder of the Shepherd home is. "It's perfect," she finds herself repeating. Her other senses are starting to awaken again. It smells like pine needles, and there are also an array of delicious scents wafting out of the kitchen that Addison cannot quite separate, but she knows she wants to eat it all. She can hear voices in the kitchen, too—they sound happy, earnest. It is beautiful here.
A living, breathing family who loves Christmas resides here.
Addison is smiling, and Derek cannot stop smiling because she is smiling. She seems so thrilled by everything. He knows from an aesthetic perspective, her house is probably the perfect one. He has not seen her house yet…or estate, maybe. He heard her say "estate" once. He will probably see it this summer though. Archer graduates in May, and Addison said her parents are planning to host a party for him before he starts his residency program (Archer is hoping his placement will be at Mass General, and Derek isn't sure why because there are a few hospitals in New York that boast stronger neurology departments, but he certainly isn't about to point this out, because Archer is far more palatable when he lives in a different state).
Derek bets his entire house could fit inside Addison's house. It could probably fit inside Bizzy's country house, too—Addison let that slip one time—which Derek thinks is smaller than the "regular" Montgomery house. He cannot say for sure though. He can only go off of what he has seen portrayed in TV shows, and what Addison has told him, but things like tailored and prep school and field hockey and on the vineyard and you'll have to ask the nanny and membership only and adjourn to the drawing room filter through his head whenever he thinks about what Addison's childhood was like.
He also bets that the Christmas tree in her parents' house—someone delivers it the first week of December, he remembers her saying that—does not have any made-in-school ornaments hanging off its branches. He imagines the Montgomery tree to be a condensed version of the tree at Brookfield Place with its red and gold glass spheres, which are pretty to look at, but are decidedly unmoving. Addison probably got in trouble if she touched the ornaments, too.
It all makes Derek want to slip his arms around her waist and hold her tight, but just as he is about to do so, he hears footsteps thumping across the living room carpet.
"Uncle Derek!"
He bends forward to accept the hug Connor has for him. It took long enough for someone to realize he and Addison were here, but the bulk of the living room is not visible from the entrance to their house, and he knows they came inside somewhat quietly.
"Hey, Connor." Derek stands back up to his full height, but cannot resist ruffling Connor's silky brown curls, so much like the ones he had at his nephew's age. They have always looked alike, actually. I think I somehow gave birth to Derek, he can remember Liz saying when Connor was a newborn. "You holding down the fort?" He asks this every time, but the exchange has improved in the past year because Connor is slightly less literal now and understands it is meant to be a special joke that is just for them. Connor is the only boy, and Derek knows how that feels. He can remember the first time he asked Connor if he was holding down the fort, and Connor had tipped his palms up, and then told Derek in a very grave voice, I'm not holding anything.
"Aunt Nancy's baby is going to be a boy," Connor shares dreamily.
"That's right, buddy. Hey, Con…do you remember Addie?" Derek watches as Connor offers Addison a solemn nod. He has always been a bit shy, swallowed up in the same way Derek often was because of noisy, overbearing sisters. Before Derek can try to facilitate some interaction between Addison and Connor though, he hears more movement, and then suddenly Amy is in front of them. She gives Derek a proper hug, and a more casual, possibly bashful side one for Addison, before quickly retreating.
Derek and Addison shift further into the house, and now he can see the entirety of the living room. He hears Addison say Whoa under her breath when she sees the decorations everywhere, but he is more focused on the smaller details. He notices the Candy Land game over by the Christmas tree, and some action figures scattered along the quilted tree skirt, and the image is enough to produce a grateful twinge in his heart for his baby sister. Amy has probably been playing with Connor, and his sisters, too, wherever they are. Amy will be seventeen in February. She is friendly, but reclusive in that typical teenager way, and currently suffers the burden of being in the in-between stage: bored at both the kids' table and the adult table. She has always been so good with Connor and the rest of the little ones though. It only takes a few more seconds for Connor to wander away, too, content to sit back down with Amy and continue their game, which leaves Derek and Addison alone at the edge of the living room. Not alone for much longer though, because he can hear plenty of noise in the kitchen, so it is only a matter of time before—
"Hey! Finally." Liz emerges from the kitchen and paces over to them. Addison is pleased to see that she and Liz have similar looks today: loose-fitting sweaters and jeans, and minimal makeup. Liz's feet currently feature just candy cane patterned socks, but Addison assumes that Liz showed up to Carolyn's home in unassuming boots just like she has (Addison's are not completely unassuming, since they are calfskin ones picked up on Fifth, but they are the most unassuming pair she owns, along with the more-sensible-for-the-snow boots currently in her luggage). Addison felt self-conscious when she was packing her clothes last night, wanting to be sure she made a good impression, but also "fit in" with the more low maintenance-clothed Shepherd women.
"Sorry…" Liz wraps Derek in a hug. "We're in baking and cooking mode, and the sink was running so I didn't hear anything at first." She releases Derek and then gives Addison an equally warm embrace. "Kathleen is finishing up a few things. And, Max, too, but honestly, for as much as he's trying to be helpful, he's mostly just getting in the way." This is interrupted by a Be right there! from Kathleen, and a jovial I heard that! from one of Derek's brothers-in-law. "Mom should be right down; she wanted to make sure she put a few more towels in the yellow bathroom. The upstairs bathroom, I mean." Liz focuses on Addison when she explains this. "It had these ugly yellow sponge-painted walls when we were younger, and even though Mom repainted it years ago, it's still 'the yellow bathroom' to us. And then Patrick took Nora and Gracie with him to ShopRite—we need a few more toppings for the gingerbread houses. You know Mom; we've finally gotten her on board with seeing how much easier the kits are, but she still wants a bigger spread of toppings to choose from, and to make the frosting herself. Oh, and Maggie went with Pat and the girls, too."
Liz is spiritedly offering them both eye contact, but her gaze loops back to Addison again as she starts to wind down from that mouthful. "Maggie is Kathleen's older one. She's just a few months younger than Grace," she says, wanting to be helpful in case Addison could not remember this detail, and Addison bobs her head in a way that she hopes is appreciative-looking, because she committed this to memory a long time ago. Liz and Patrick's kids are Nora, Connor, and Grace, and they are six, four, and three, respectively. And then Kathleen and Max have Margaret—Maggie, day-to-day—and Claire, who are almost-four and one.
"It gets them out from under for a little bit," Liz continues. "And then John—sorry, Addie, you'll get used to the Shepherd play-by-plays—John is picking Nancy up at the end of her shift and they're heading straight here. So they'll probably get here around six, six-thirty, depending on what time Hartford turns Nancy loose. She said she's supposed to get off at four today." This triggers a light shrug from Liz. "You'll find out how that goes soon enough. A twelve-hour shift rarely lasts only twelve hours…no matter what rules are in place to protect staff."
Kathleen comes in next, with Claire on a hip, and her husband Max is not too far behind—and, oh, okay good, Kathleen's boots actually look a lot like Addison's, so she says a silent thank you to whatever Scarsdale shopping center Kathleen probably went to. More hugs are exchanged, and Addison has just a moment to coo over baby Claire, and then there is a squeaking of the stairs and then—
"Hello there!" Carolyn calls out, and the process once again starts over. Hugs and How was the drive? and more small talk. It is overwhelming, Addison thinks, but not necessarily in an unpleasant way…just in a loud and enthusiastic way.
"We can grab your stuff." Kathleen passes Claire over to Liz, making a joke about how convenient it was that Liz took her shoes off. And Max is already moving towards the door. That's the thing about the Shepherds and the Shepherd spouses that Addison has come to understand: they generally do not ask if they can help. They just do. "Amy…" Kathleen cocks her head in a way that implies the youngest Shepherd should help, too. Addison can see Amy start to make a petulant face, but then her features go neutral again; she thinks Amy has possibly determined that although Kathleen is making the request, it's for Derek and Addison, not Kathleen herself, which probably goes a long way in Amy's world.
"Oh, we don't mind getting our stuff," Addison says, wanting to be helpful, and also feeling weirdly…protective over the cupcakes she left on the front seat.
"No, no." Kathleen shakes her head. "You guys just got here. Some fresh air will be good, too. It's getting warm in the kitchen."
"Your one good deed for the year," Derek teases as he gives Kathleen the car keys. "The box with the presents is in the back seat—you might need two people for that one, it's kinda bulky because of the usual stuff I get for the guys—and there's a container in the front seat, and our luggage is in the trunk. You can just leave it right in here though. We'll bring it up. Mom, where should Addison's—"
"You can put everything in your room, including the presents." Carolyn directs her answer to her son, but then gives Addison a warm smile. "We try to avoid putting gifts out until the last minute," she shares. "The grandkids get too curious."
"Wait…" Derek exchanges a glance with Addison, and he knows she is wondering the same thing. He has never brought a girl home for Christmas before, but he has "done this" in the sense that he has been around to witness Liz bring a boyfriend home to stay with them for the first time, and then Kathleen, and then Nancy. For tonight's arrangements, he knows that Liz and Patrick and their brood will sleep at their own place—just ten minutes away—and Nancy and John will likely spend the night with them in order to save some space, but the Shepherd house with its four modest-sized bedrooms will still be really full. Kathleen and Max will be in the aptly-named girls room, a now unoccupied bedroom that was once shared by Liz and Kathleen, then Kathleen and Nancy—and their kids will either sleep with them, or share with Amy. And while it would make sense for Addison to be with Derek in his childhood room, rather than maybe be relegated to Amy's room…he didn't want to get his hopes up.
"The both of you in your room," Carolyn confirms, and Derek has to restrain himself from pumping his fist. "We're at capacity here. And as much as I'd like to pretend that you're still sixteen and have zero experience with girls—"
"God, Mom. At least say, like, twelve or something so I sound like less of a loser."
"Sixteen is more than generous," Liz cuts in while Carolyn sheepishly murmurs something about not wanting to lie at Christmastime. "I think 'eighteen' or 'nineteen' is the right answer, actually."
"Thank you so much for that, too," Derek says, and although it is appalling that the conversation has gone in this direction, he can admit it is also a little funny. Only a little though. "I'm thrilled my girlfriend gets to hear this." Addison is quietly giggling beside him.
"Well, as I was saying before the age discrepancies, I'm not naïve, son. So, yes, you can share." Carolyn looks at Addison again. "I used to be a lot stricter about this sort of thing—"
"Yeah you were," Liz mutters with an eye roll that Derek feels rivals any of Amy's.
"—even though I guess it's sort of old fashioned. I was stricter with the older ones, but the more time goes on, even if we weren't packed to the gills this Christmas…" Carolyn's gaze is still fixed on Addison. "You're the younger one in your family, right? I'm sure your parents were a bit more relaxed with you than they were with your brother."
Relaxed? That is one of the last words Addison would use to describe Bizzy and the Captain. Taking a different approach with the second sibling—or third, fourth, and fifth, in Carolyn's case—implies a certain amount of physical availability, and being responsive to the emotional needs of your children. And as far as how Addison's parents have actually parented in the twenty-four-and-a-half years she has been their daughter…parenting was left up to the nannies, and then Addison and Archer sort of parented themselves once they outgrew the revolving door of nannies. There were always standards and expectations and Montgomerys-should-be-this-way things, but somehow that all managed to occur without actual parenting, Addison believes.
She is spared having to respond to Carolyn though when the door opens and noise once again floods through the home. Amy skulks away after she and Max have set down the box with the presents, and then a new face is visible from just behind Kathleen: Patrick, Liz's husband, with both sets of luggage in hand.
"Look who we found outside," Kathleen chirps happily. "And these are so cute, Addie." She ended up being the one to bring the cupcakes in, and although the container does have a handle, Addison is grateful that Kathleen has elected to just cradle the entire thing. "She's beautiful and she can bake." Kathleen smirks at Derek. "You've truly outkicked your coverage."
"This is why I don't come home more. It's a pile-on every time I do."
Liz laughs as she bounces Claire on her hip. "We only do it because we love you. Uh…" she draws in a short breath. "Pat."
"Lizzie." Her husband starts to laugh. "Come on. I didn't forget them. They're coming in through the backdoor. They want to surprise you all. Why they think it would be a surprise when you've just seen me, and you know we're here, I don't know."
"I guess I better go unlock the kitchen door then, as much as I've liked the volume not being Zeppelin-loud in here." Liz moves towards the kitchen with Claire, and Kathleen trails behind her with the cupcake carrier.
Patrick picks up both pieces of luggage again. "I'll bring these upstairs." He shakes his head when Derek takes a step forward. "Nah, I've got them. How about you and Max get the box. So where are…" his eyes widen when Derek quietly tells him where to put everything. "Oh, got it." He is laughing now as he heads up the stairs. "Different rules for overnight girlfriends than the scoundrel boyfriends, huh, Mom?" It is enough to make everyone in earshot laugh, and Addison laughs too, but she also feels her chest tighten for just a second. She forgot that the husbands often call Carolyn Mom.
"Can I help with anything?" Addison asks Carolyn. It is just the two of them now.
"Come into the kitchen and have some hot cocoa, but no, you may not help." Carolyn's eyes are twinkling. "Or at least not yet. You just got here, and you're a guest." Carolyn starts in the direction of the kitchen, but it is truly like trying to navigate a race track in this house, because at the same time Liz is returning—hands-free, so Addison realizes she must have given Claire back to Kathleen—with the three other girls, who are all tugging off their coats and hats. "Oh…girls. What a good surprise. You're so sneaky!" Carolyn shares this with over-the-top enthusiasm, and then gently eases through the cluster of granddaughters once Kathleen says Mom, and something about "the sauce" that Addison cannot quite make out.
"You girls remember Addie, right?" Liz says. "This is Derek's girlfriend," she reminds them. "Uncle Derek just went upstairs. You can still surprise him though."
"Hi," Addison greets. "You're all getting so big. And oh…look at you, Nora." She smiles at the oldest of the dark-haired nieces. "You've lost your front teeth."
"Yeah! I lost this one…" Nora points to a space in her mouth that Addison notes is meant to specify where her left central incisor was. "Just last week. But." She sighs dramatically. "The tooth fairy came late."
"That's true," Liz says, keeping her voice even. "But she did come the next night. The tooth fairy always does her best." She looks at Addison, who can remember Liz saying that Nora's favorite thing to do is come home from school and tell her mom who got in trouble today, and why. "The tooth fairy is tired sometimes, and maybe she wasn't feeling very well the night you put your tooth under your pillow, Nora-bora," she adds, and at this remark, Addison tries to hide her grin. Not everyone in the house who no longer believes in the tooth fairy knows yet—it will be revealed on Christmas Day to the one adult who does not know—but Nancy is not the only Shepherd sister who will be having a baby next year.
"Are you our aunt?" Nora asks.
"No, kiddo," Liz says before Addison can respond. "You can just call her 'Addie.' She and Uncle Derek aren't married."
This produces a frown from Nora. "Why not?"
"Nora…remember how we talked about how it's not very polite to ask people when they're going to have a baby, or another baby? Getting married is like that—it's not really our place to ask people who are boyfriend and girlfriend when they're going to get married. Besides, Addie and Uncle Derek are still in school. They're a little too busy to get married right now." Liz tips her chin towards the entrance to the kitchen. "Why don't we all go sit at the table? I'll get you guys a snack. You too, Connor." She raises her voice to get her son's attention. "And you can show Addie what you guys were working on before you went to the store with Daddy. Sorry…" Liz turns to Addison once the girls and Connor have trudged into the kitchen. Her expression looks a shade guilty. "No filter with that one. She's like a younger, less moody version of Amy. Hopefully that didn't make you feel uncomfortable?"
Addison shakes her head. She thinks of it like the baby thing, in the same way that putting her academic and career aspirations first no longer feels like a potential excuse. She is not as scared to have children—or to get married—as she always assumed she would be thanks to the examples she had. It turns out though, you can feel like you are capable of anything when you're with the right person. And Derek Christopher Shepherd is the right person. Addison loves him. And he loves her. He never seems to get tired of her, and he has never once appeared to be disappointed in her for who she is or for who she is not. And the way he looks at her…no one had ever looked at her like this before they met. They are each other's first love. It has only been a little over two years, which in the grand scheme of things, is not a lot of time, but Addison knows how she feels. When you love someone this deeply, and they love you back, it is not scary to picture an entire life with them.
It might just be the easiest thing in the world to picture, actually.
"Not at all," she assures Liz with a content smile.
"Gentle." Derek hears Kathleen hiss. "Addie isn't a toy. And you need to ask her if she wants to go outside with you, love."
There is never stillness in the Shepherd home, so in the time it takes Derek to rise from his seat at the kitchen table—they have been drinking hot cocoa, catching up, and indulging the three older nieces with a craft project—to turn down the temperature of the slow cooker at his mom's request, nothing is shocking about the fact that an advance of just five seconds has changed the course of the afternoon. He twists around to observe Maggie tugging on one of Addison's wrists, giggling happily while she does.
"They want to go outside and build a snowman family," Addison tells Derek. "And it's okay." She looks at Kathleen. "I'll go out with them." She then shakes her head when Kathleen offers to go too. "I don't mind going without you, if you have more to do in here. Connor and Patrick are already out there anyway, so I have backup. And…" Addison glances at Derek again, a smile playing over her lips. "Derek can come with me. He's an excellent snowman builder."
"Thanks, Addie," Liz says from by the stove. "Girls…coats and hats. You know the drill. No, not those ones." She is quick to issue this addition when Nora starts to protest because they are already wearing hats. And so is Addison, actually. However, the ones they are wearing are reindeer ones made out of brown construction paper, with traced and cutout handprints glued to the inside for antlers. "Those aren't going to keep you warm."
Derek helps Addison get the girls in their coats, hats, gloves, and waterproof boots (this is not his first rodeo, but it still amazes him just how long it takes). Before he can start to shrug his own outerwear back on though, Carolyn returns from a trip upstairs with a request for him (Claire is napping in a Pack 'n Play, and Carolyn likes to pop her head in once in a while to check on her, even though, as her daughters have pointed out multiple times, the baby monitor is literally right here, Mom).
"Derek…would you mind helping me with something first?" She asks. "Really quick."
He murmurs an I'll be right out to Addison, and then follows after his mom while Addison ushers the girls outside. He is certain he knows what she wants assistance with, and sure enough, they wind up at the three-sided sectional (the one piece of furniture in the last ten years that his mom has splurged on), where a pile of stockings have been laid out on one of the cushions. Derek does a quick sweep of the fireplace to confirm his and his sisters' stockings—which dangle off the mantel from the first of December until more and more people begin occupying space in the Shepherd home—have been removed.
"This way all the kids can see them when they come back inside," Carolyn reasons. "It won't take too long, if we do it together," she also says, which Derek already knows. This is one of his usual pre-Christmas tasks. In addition to the nuclear family stockings, his mother has made matching cable knit ones over the years for each son-in-law, and each niece and nephew, too. The mantel above the fireplace is pretty small though, so the solution Carolyn developed a few years ago was to remove two collage frames that are about fifteen feet apart on the longest part of the living room wall, use braided wire as a bridge between the nails, and then secure the now-at-fourteen (and counting) stockings to the wire with clothespins. All the stockings are similar: cream-colored or light gray, with names lovingly embroidered in swooping cursive across the cuffed part.
The timeliest part of the task is the ordering, which is by Shepherd sibling age with their corresponding spouse and kids (Liz and her family, then Kathleen and her family, and so on). While sorting through the stockings to get them in the appropriate order, Derek expects to find a spare one for Addison somewhere in the stack, too. Not one of the embroidered ones, but one of several "guest stockings" Carolyn keeps around. There have been a few times over the years where relatives stayed with the Shepherds from Christmas Eve through the end of Christmas Day, or Mark, one time, who was with them over the holiday during his and Derek's last year of college because his parents were in St. Thomas, and Carolyn insisted he not spend Christmas alone.
This time is different though, as Derek stumbles upon a cream stocking with Addison carefully stitched across the cuff in navy script. It occurs to him that his mom has never made a stocking for someone before they "officially" joined the family—not Patrick, not Max, not John—or at least not until the person had spent more than one Christmas at the Shepherd house and it was clear they would be a staple in the home going forward.
"You made one for Addison." Derek swallows an unexpected lump in his throat. The Waltons. That's what Mark used to call the Shepherds, and given that Mark's parents are pretty much on the same frost-filled, detached wavelength that Addison's are, the description makes sense to Derek. His family is not perfect though. No family is. They would not be a perfect family even if his father hadn't been killed, which automatically ruined the John Sr. and Olivia early years effect. There are just…too many Shepherds, honestly. Too many personalities. Too many feelings to consider. They are often pushy and selfish and headstrong and incredibly single-minded in the process of achieving their goals…and Derek is reasonable enough to acknowledge that sometimes he is these things, too.
And it's not just the siblings who cart flaws and less desirable qualities around. Derek thinks his mom can be a little too harsh on Amy at times, and for as kind as Carolyn usually is, she has a judgmental side—somehow, Derek's girlfriend and his sisters' husbands have met her expectations though, and have not been the subject of any so-gentle-it-nearly-doesn't-hurt reproaches. Derek was not always particularly interested in his sisters' boyfriends and now-husbands when he was younger, but now he considers that their presence in the Shepherd home perhaps carved a path for him and Addison. Patrick has humbler roots, like the Shepherds, and there is something cutely appealing about the whole "high school sweethearts who put down roots in their hometown" thing between him and Lizzie, but Nancy's husband comes from a family that has some of the markings of upper middle class, or at least sits on the better end of middle. And Max's parents have a second home in Big Sky, and although the contents of the trust fund that get distributed to him at age-specific points in time—or so Derek has been told—do not rival the trust fund awaiting Addison…a trust fund is a trust fund, right?
He first learned about Addison's trust fund about seven months into their relationship. Before that, he knew she was wealthy, but not…trust fund wealthy. He learned about it from Archer, which in retrospect, seemed fitting. Archer was in the city for some sort of spring ASNR conference he was able to weasel his way into at a hotel in Midtown, and once the day's workshops had concluded, he came over to Addison's apartment, ready for a glass of scotch and ready (or insistent, really) to meet "the boyfriend."
"I know my brother can be sort of arrogant…" Addison said to Derek after Archer had left for the night. "But I promise he means well. He's more like our parents than I am, I guess, but he's not…he's not really like them." She seemed so earnest when she shared this, so Derek just nodded, accepting that it was important to Addison that he agreed with her. He thought Archer was an ass, honestly, but in a way he did sympathize with him, because like Addison, her brother had also originated from a constellation of impossible-to-intervene neglect.
"Did it go okay with him when I was out of the room?" Addison asked. Savvy had called her while the three of them were talking, and it…apparently could not wait, as far as Derek understood. "Oh. Oh, no," she added, and he nearly blushed when he realized his poker face was in need of work. "What did Archie say?"
"Not too much. It's fine, Addie," Derek assured when she looked stricken. "Archer's just protective of you. And maybe…maybe we're even now. I mean, you have to put up with Mark…" he smirked. "So I have to put up with Archer. He, uh, he made a comment about you being a…thoroughbred. And having a trust fund. So, I think the implication is that I'm only with you for your money. Which is ridiculous…" he gave her a teasing look, wanting to make her laugh and make it clear that none of this affected him on a profound level, or something. "I'm with you specifically because you're going to be an amazing surgeon and I want to be your arm candy when we're going to all sorts of extravagant hospital banquets honoring you."
It turned out to be enough to make Addison laugh. "Is that the only reason?"
"A few others, too." He squeezed her thigh lightly. "Can I ask…how much? I'm not…it won't change anything for me, or for us. I'm just curious. And…and we're always honest with each other." The question itself was probably a little rude, and the follow-up was probably manipulative-sounding, too, but Derek did not mean for it to be. It was just…the honesty thing started a few months ago. Not that they weren't always honest, but just—more honesty was born that January. Addison knew how Derek's dad died, but until that day when they arrived at the entrance to a men's accessories store that Addison was trying to drag him into, he had not shared with her the detail about specifically why it happened—it was over a watch my mom saved up to buy him, and he wouldn't hand it over.
The Captain's birthday was coming up, and Addison was thinking about getting him a new watch, because no matter how strained her relationship with her father was, not giving someone a gift just wasn't an option for her. And there were all these watches twinkling in the display window and it was just…too much for Derek. It had been almost twelve years by that point, but it was still too much. Twelve. He was twelve when it happened. And with his dad now being gone for almost twelve years…he wondered what it would feel like when the anniversary of his dad's death finally came, to know that he had now lived without his dad for as long as he lived with him, and worse, what of all days that would soon follow, marking more years without his dad than Derek ever got with him.
He told Addison that he would wait outside for her, and she huffed a little; he had been accommodating with the two other stores for unrelated items she had made him go into with her, so Derek's refusal to maintain the dutiful boyfriend act irked her. When she rejoined him outside though, they took a short walk over to the waterfront greenway, and stood side-by-side, peering out at the murky water of the East River as he told her why he could not go in the store. Thank you for talking to me about it, Addison had whispered afterward, swiping away a tear clinging to her cheek. I'm glad you told me. Derek's decision to share this with her seemed to open up a new vulnerability in them both. The first time he told Addison that he loved her was later that night.
So, when Derek asked the question of how much Addison's trust fund consisted of, by way of a little bit of honesty-pushing, Addison leaned towards the coffee table, where her notes from Foundations of Clinical Medicine were shuffled together. She picked up her pen and made a flourishing movement with her wrist as she jotted something in the margin. Then she slid the paper over to Derek. He pondered if she was maybe embarrassed to say the number aloud. Or maybe it was a WASP thing. It probably was considered rude to discuss money if you're a WASP, right?
25 million.
"Wow." Derek could feel her stiffen next to him when he said this. He could not (and still cannot) imagine having access to that much money. It was like…opening Scrooge McDuck's enormous vault and seeing all the gold piled inside. That was truly the only way Derek could process such an astronomical number, and although he knew he could tell Mark that his mind automatically went to DuckTales for some stupid reason, and Mark would laugh, and that way at least someone would laugh, Derek knew this was not something he would share with anyone. Addison was sensitive about her background, which made him feel protective over it, and over her. He had met her parents a few weeks before he met Archer (it was never confirmed, but Derek always assumed Archer let it slip to Bizzy and the Captain that Addison told him she was dating someone, and when Bizzy told Addison she and the Captain wanted to "do lunch" with her and "the young man you're seeing," Addison felt pressured to agree). Derek accompanied Addison to a French restaurant off East 65th where Bizzy and the Captain were waiting for them. The prices made Derek's palms sweat when he saw the menu, even though Addison told him in advance not to worry, because her parents would take care of the bill. He was his mother's son though, so he skimmed the menu and selected one of the cheaper entrees (but still 82 dollars, and frankly, not that great). That was the first time Derek truly came to terms with how wealthy Addison was. But, there's near-criminally overpriced lamb, and then there's just…then there's just being obscenely loaded, which made it hard for Derek to not visibly react after seeing what number Addison had written down.
She was studying his face as he attempted to process 25 million. "Still doesn't change anything?" She smiled faintly. "Horrible pun…not intended?"
Derek shook his head. "I mean, it's gonna take a minute for my eyes to go back in my head, but no. It doesn't change anything. Although…" he gently nudged her shoulder. "This does prove that you can afford to buy socks, instead of trying to shove your icy bare feet under mine at night for warmth."
"I made a stocking for Addison," Carolyn confirms, and Derek blinks, once again refocusing on the conversation happening in front of him. "I know she usually goes by 'Addie,' but—"
"Either is fine," Derek says quickly. His girlfriend always introduces herself as Addison, and realistically, he calls her Addison just as often as he calls her Addie.
"I suppose you're right. While I was working on it," Carolyn continues, "I was caught up in this movie that was on TV—I can't remember what it's called, but that cute Russell Crowe was in it—and then I realized I had kept going with her full name, not her nickname."
"It's perfect." He runs his finger along the soft material. "She'll love it, Mom. Thanks."
"You know, I'm sure the kids will enjoy having you guys build snowmen with them, but after that, maybe you should take a quick walk with Addie around the neighborhood—not too long, of course, since it's cold out. That way you can have a little time to yourselves. I know all of this is probably a lot to just get thrown into."
Derek nearly laughs in response. He was honestly just thinking the same thing, and was thinking of telling his mom that. He loves to accuse his older sisters—Nancy in particular—of sounding more and more like Mom every day, but…clearly the joke is on him this time.
"Son…" she adds, voice a little lower now. "I love seeing you this happy."
Derek knows his mom means it. And she is right. He is happy. Happier than he has ever been. His pre-teen and teenage years were rough: grieving the loss of his dad, who was his role model, and just generally not fitting in well with a lot of his classmates. He was too shy, too bookish, too serious, too weighed down by the chip on his shoulder. But then college came, and something shifted in Derek that fall as he adjusted to life at Bowdoin, and his life over the next four years: he flourished. He became more hopeful again, and more sure of himself, and more sure of his place in the world, too. It was not just growing older, but growing up, maybe. And with med school, he has truly found his passion. The path forward is clear.
But the truth is…his happiness is mostly because of Addison. Especially right now. He has realized that Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love. And he loves her most of all.
"Mom." He clears his throat. "You mentioned once…you said dad had a ring for me."
"He does."
"I don't need it right now, but at some point I'm going to ask you for it."
Carolyn nods. "It's in my jewelry box," she tells him. "Just let me know when you're ready for it, and I'll make sure you get it. I'd rather you wait until you finish school though…you still have another year to get through, and I remember that was a lot for Nancy and John, to plan a wedding while she was finishing up her last year at NYU. Though I suppose Addison's mother will probably want to do most of the planning." Her final few words are said in a neutral tone. Derek has not shared too many details about what Addison's parents are like. He found gentle ways to talk about them when his mom asked once: not very close…kind of tough on her…not super warm. But he assumed at the time his mom knew what he was trying to carefully say, and he is certain she has plenty of judgments about the Montgomerys' parenting style, but has decided not to voice them.
"Yeah," Derek agrees. "Probably." He knows he will go along with whatever Bizzy wants for the wedding, provided it is what Addison wants. He does not push back with, "Well, why don't you just…" or "You know you don't have to…" statements when his girlfriend complains about her parents, or expresses hurt over their most recent slight. Addison doesn't need him to judge her, or ask her why she continues to succumb to a compliant how high? when either of her parents—but Bizzy in particular—tells her to jump. What she needs is his support. "Even if I proposed in med school though, we'd probably wait to start planning the wedding until we were done with school. There's no way Addison would be happy about fielding questions from her mom while she's trying to prep for step two of the USMLE."
"Well, just be mindful of the timing. Girls don't really like long engagements."
Derek smiles thinly. "You're going let me do this on my own, right?"
"I am, but it's my motherly right to provide unsolicited input. A Christmas proposal might be really sweet—next Christmas though, not this one," Carolyn says. She is running her thumb over her chin, deep in thought. "That's what Pat did with Liz when we were all opening presents, remember? Gosh, you were only in high school then. I'm sure Addison would probably like something more private though, just the two of you. I know…I know." She smiles apologetically. "You didn't ask."
"Mom, actually…" Derek draws his shoulders back a little. Hope feels wide and unencumbered in his chest. "When we leave on the twenty-sixth, I want to take the ring. It'll be at least another year before I propose, don't worry, but I'd…I'd like to have it with me."
"Are we really about to rank the kids' animal hats…?"
Addison glances over at Derek in time to see an exhaled cloud of breath accompany the warmth of his words. It makes her laugh, and for a moment, it feels like the only noise remaining in the world is quiet laughter and the crunch of their footsteps as they traipse over the snow blanketing the sidewalk. They have made it far enough down Derek's street that the voices of the kids, Patrick, and Max are no longer noticeable. Perhaps they have even gone inside, because they were starting to talk about heading back in when Derek asked Addison if she wanted to take a walk with him. But the truth is, Addison has no desire to look over her shoulder and see if the coat-plumped bodies of the kids and their dads are still patting away at the snowman family they created. She just wants to look at Derek, and keep holding his hand, and keep hearing the soothing rhythm that punctuates the way he speaks.
Derek has spent the last few minutes pointing out the houses of his long-ago favorite neighbors, though there are a few families from "back then" who still live on this street, and Addison has been hanging onto every word, relishing each twitch of Derek's squared-off jaw as he contently reveals some of the happy memories that colored his childhood. It is amazing to Addison how much she still gets to learn and discover about her boyfriend. He has regaled her with some stories of the kids he used to play with, and the things they would do: the Fourth of July block party where they would all run around with sparklers; the Ericksons' tree house that became a gathering spot; the fire hydrant someone opened for the kids during a particularly bad heat wave in '78; and the endless games of street hockey and wiffle ball and hide-and-seek.
"I'm not ranking them," Addison insists, throwing a fake pout at Derek. "All I said was that I thought Grace's ladybug hat was the cutest of the bunch. I just love the red flaps."
"Well, if we have a redhead, it might clash too much with his or her hair." It slips out of Derek's mouth so easily, but the smile that was on Addison's face before he shared this does not disappear; nothing about what he inferred made her tense up. Earlier in their relationship, she had told him she was worried she would somehow end up being the kind of parent that her own parents were. Derek assured her that wasn't true. He considers himself to be an optimistic person, and of all the things he believes in, he believes in Addison the most. And she is nothing like her parents. Derek knew that before he met them, and he certainly knew it after. She will be a great mom. A loving, present, devoted mom. One day, when the time is right (they'll be happy no matter what, he is sure, but he would love if one of their babies winds up having red hair). And, now, Addison's smile seems to spread even wider as she tells him that the polar bear hat—that was what Connor had on—would probably look cute against red hair.
"Derek…" her voice softens. "Your mom made me a stocking." At one point while they were building snowmen, the younger girls started complaining about how thirsty they were, so Addison offered to go get their little plastic drinking cups, which meant discovering the wall of stockings once she reached the living room. And realizing that Carolyn had made one for her—it made Addison want to cry. It was so deeply thoughtful.
"She made you a stocking," Derek says. His hand tightens a little around hers. "Don't get too attached though. When we wake up on Christmas morning, there will be a few stocking stuffers in them, but then we give my mom the stockings back. They stay with her year-round."
"Do you think I should have gotten her something else besides the scarf and the earrings?"
The scarf Addison made for Carolyn is the first item she has ever attempted to crochet. And then along with the scarf is a pair of shiny poinsettia stud earrings she bought at Nordstrom. She knew the earrings probably cost more than what Derek would have liked for her to spend on his mom, but he did not talk her out of the purchase, and assured her that Carolyn would love them. Of all the presents currently packed into the overstuffed cardboard box that Addison and Derek carried with them out of Addison's apartment this morning, the gift bag containing Carolyn's scarf and earrings is the only one specifically from Addison. Everything else was a joint purchase, with Love, Derek and Addie written on twelve separate cards.
Addison made suggestions here and there as she and Derek shopped for holiday gifts throughout late November and early December (and unlike regular shopping, Derek actually likes Christmas shopping), but she let Derek mostly take the lead with the Shepherds and co, because it's his family, and obviously he knows them better. We keep it pretty simple, he told Addison, as gifts began to take up space in her bedroom (he insisted she didn't need to split the cost with him on anything, and that they could consider her storing the gifts as being a form of payment, but she was able to talk Derek into letting her buy the Christmas cards, so that at least one expense could be shifted off him). There is a plaid lambswool blanket for Derek's mom. There are standard gifts for the kids that involved nothing more or less than going down the aisle with all the Lego sets, and then on to a few of the pinker, ridiculously gender-typed aisles for everything else. There is a six-pack and a bag of pretzels for each brother-in-law—trust me, this is what they want, Derek said, and watch, they'll get me the exact same thing, so Addison just shrugged. There are scented candles and coffee mugs for his older sisters, and then for Amy, there is a movie she liked that was released on video earlier this month, and a gift card to her favorite clothing store to help support her increasingly becoming-all-black wardrobe.
Addison was fully prepared to write out another Love, Derek and Addie card to put on top of the lambswool blanket for Derek's mom, but the desire to do something more kept nagging at her, which was how she found herself at a fabric store picking over bundles of yarn and crochet hooks. She knew it stemmed from what Savvy refers to as her "mommy issues," and "need to please issues," but she comforted herself by reasoning that it probably would be nice to do a little something extra for Carolyn, given that she was okay with Addison spending Christmas with her family. So, once the scarf was completed and the earrings were purchased, Addison relinquished custody of the lambswool blanket, and then wrote a message on the inside of a card for Carolyn to tuck beside the scarf and earrings: Merry Christmas! Thank you so much for having me this year. I'm so glad I could be here with you all. - Addie
"Nope. Nothing else," Derek replies. "She'll love what you got her." He takes Addison gently by the elbow and steers them both behind a thick sugar maple at the edge of a corner lot. He circles his arms around her waist. "It'll probably be her second favorite gift though…hard to beat a sonogram photo." Liz had decided she wanted to share the news with their mom on Christmas Day, but she had told all the siblings and their significant others a few days ago when she officially reached twelve weeks—do not blow this for me, you guys—so that no one would have questions if they noticed Patrick continuing to take sips of Liz's wine in an attempt to make a respectable dent in her glass when Carolyn wasn't looking. "The worst thing about prying sisters and a houseful of people," he continues, "is that it's impossible to be alone with you."
"Well. We're kind of alone now." She raises an eyebrow, prompting, and Derek leans forward to press his lips to hers, savoring a moment of just them as snow begins to fall again.
"Our house looks the best," Nora says, her flute-like voice carrying down the dining room table in a lull between songs. A Sinatra album has been playing on Carolyn's old record player ever since everyone returned to the dining room after all traces of dinner had been cleared up. Nora peeks at Addison, grinning proudly over the sugary structure between them.
"There's those modest Shepherd genes…" John murmurs on Addison's right, and it makes her laugh quietly. She likes John, and she knows him the best of the three brothers-in-law, but of course she'd prefer to sit next to Derek. Everything happened so fast though once it was time to make gingerbread houses. Liz said that she tries to be conservative with how many gingerbread kits she buys, since the adults always end up helping the kids anyway, so tonight, some of the adults around the table have been partnered or double-partnered with a kid. Addison is working on a gingerbread house with Nora, who sweetly asked her if they could make one together the moment Carolyn said they were going to start getting the table set up for the gingerbread houses. And Nora was the one who decided where they should sit.
Derek is right across the table from Addison though, and there are worse things than looking up and getting to meet his soft blue eyes. It's how everything started, really. There were no pre-cut gingerbread pieces or sweet-tasting toppings on a plastic tablecloth between them that afternoon in the gross anatomy lab, but it's the same general concept, Addison feels.
There is a moment of hasty chatter to assure the other kids that everyone's houses look great, since most of them were close enough to have heard Nora's remark, but Addison—apparently a joke can be made about the modesty of Montgomery genes, too—kind of agrees with Nora after looking at some of the other creations. This is not the first time Nora has made a gingerbread house. It is a Shepherd family tradition, and even though Nora's fingers are still clumsy while spreading frosting over the roof due to being six, it was clear right away that she had a host of ideas about how she wanted to decorate the house. However, Addison has had some ideas, too, and together, they have made a good team. Unlike Nora, Addison has never done this before. But Addison just…she was able to see everything at the very start. The little pieces of licorice that she put on the sides of the icing windows to look like shutters. The wreath above the front door that she and Nora made from M&M's. The peppermint sticks secured around the house to look like a fence, and lined with green gumdrops to be the bushes. The snowman in front of the house that Addison assembled with three marshmallows and pretzel sticks, an upside-down mini peanut butter cup for a hat, and then Carolyn's buttercream frosting as a base for the red M&Ms that became the buttons and chocolate chips that became the facial features.
The ability to see it all, almost instinctively, removes an element of experimentalism that Addison assumed she would need, since this is new for her (everything about gingerbread house-making would have disgusted Bizzy). The start to finish here reminds Addison of how she can read about a medical procedure in a textbook, and it's not just sentences—she can close her eyes and see all of it, everything from the first cut of the scalpel to the finish stitch. Surgeons are trained, not born—Dr. Wong said that during clinical rotation—and that's probably true, but Addison still thinks that on some level she was maybe born to be a surgeon.
"Addie is good at this," Nora shares.
"It did turn out really nice," Carolyn acknowledges. She is a few seats down from Derek. "You both did great." She focuses on Addison. "Maybe you have a future in this, sweetheart," she says, and Addison finds herself beaming like a child at being praised, and at being called sweetheart. It is not an act, or over-compensation, she is certain—Carolyn does seem to really like her. "This can be your back-up plan."
Addison's gaze drifts over to Derek, who is smiling at her. He knows how much his mom's approval means to Addison. His situation was the opposite. It shocked Addison how little he seemed to care about her parents' approval. He wanted to make a good impression, of course, and wanted them to like him, but Addison also felt that if Bizzy and the Captain hadn't liked Derek, it wouldn't have affected him in the way that it would have absolutely gutted Addison to find out that Carolyn didn't like her. And as it stands, Addison's parents might not be crazy about the match, but they certainly don't dislike Derek. Addison and Derek look good together, for one thing. It feels shallow for Addison to admit that, but there is just no denying that Derek is very handsome, and he was also dressed nice the day the four of them had lunch at Bechette (Addison bought him a cashmere sweater to layer over a crisp-collared dress shirt, and he wore it without protest). And the other reason her parents don't seem too fussed over her relationship with someone well below her social standing—and she didn't speak to her dad for two months after finding out about this one—is that the Captain, with all of his university connections, made a few calls, and the feedback that Derek's professors perhaps unethically offered the Captain reinforced for him that Derek was an excellent student, and showed serious promise as a future surgeon.
"I dare you." Addison hears this from John's other side, and whips her head around in time to see Nancy—with three pieces of licorice pilfered from the tub and halfway to her mouth—staring directly across the table at Kathleen. Nancy and John's efforts with their gingerbread house have been mostly half-hearted, as Nancy has been having more fun just grazing the toppings. "I dare you to say something," Nancy continues, practically growling. "See what happens, Kate." And then Liz—who is in the process of transporting all the houses to a pop-up table shoved into the corner of the room just for this occasion—tactfully intervenes when it looks like a few words of the "something around and find out" variety are about to issued from Nancy, which would not be appropriate for the little ears in the room.
A collective effort makes the process of cleaning everything up go quickly. Soon enough, the dining room table no longer looks like a sweets factory, and then goodbyes start to be uttered. Amy heads upstairs to shower, and Kathleen and Max trudge upstairs, too, to put their girls to bed—a very, very long, with too-many-steps-involved to cater to them process, Max shared with Addison. Nancy and John grab a spare house key from Patrick and drive off, since Liz and Patrick will take longer to load up their kids in the car. Derek offers to go outside with them to help, while simultaneously volunteering to take out the trash and grab today's mail. This leaves just Addison. She says her goodbyes at the door, and then returns to the kitchen. Carolyn had said something about No, it's okay, I just want to finish up the cannoli when Kathleen asked if there was "anything else," but Addison figures she will inquire again anyway, just in case. She really hasn't helped much with anything today, though it is not for lack of offering.
"Addie…" Carolyn beats her to it this time. She is frying something. Next to the sauce pan are bits of dough circled around little silver pipe things (Addison will try to remember to ask Naomi about this). "Could I borrow your creative hands for something…?"
Addison nods in response, although creative hands gives her pause. It is entirely possible the gingerbread house was a fluke. And she didn't exactly disclose that the cupcakes—which were devoured tonight along with a few other desserts—were something she received significant assistance with. All of this makes for a bone-chilling thought, because perhaps Carolyn thinks Addison is competent in the kitchen, which is far from the truth. When Addison moved into an apartment with Savvy after their freshman year at Yale and could no longer rely solely on on-campus dining, her friend had been shocked at how little she could cook…but it wasn't like Savvy was much better. They ate a lot of "basics," and pre-packaged things, and racked up some pretty expensive charges on their bank statements considering how often they called for delivery. And even now, takeout exists for a reason as far as Addison is concerned, and Naomi is a good cook, and Derek is proficient from a culinary-perspective, too, which will come in handy next summer. Addison and Derek's respective leases end in July, and then they are going to move in together. In some ways it feels like they already do live together, given how much time they spend at each other's apartments, but it'll be different when it's only them and it's more real. Addison can't wait.
Luckily, the request from Carolyn is a simple one: retrieve a gift bag, and a gift tag, from the hallway storage closet for a present she needs to finish up. Carolyn had first gestured to a small stack of books on the counter that were not there a few minutes ago, and sheets of creased green tissue paper, kept far enough away from anything baking-related. "I bought the books at different times throughout the fall," Carolyn had explained, "but I couldn't remember where I put one of them. I finally found it though, so now I just need to drop them all in a bag."
Addison is more than happy to root through the closet, given the easiness of the task. Her fingers glide over Christmas bags (she once again cannot help making a comparison: Bizzy would think that hanging onto old, gifted bags is gauche, not sensible). After Addison has a bag in hand and has grabbed a blank gift tag from the cluster of tags housed in a spare tray card Rolodex, she shuts the closet door, and takes a quick moment to scrutinize the wooden picture collage nearest to the door. There are pictures everywhere throughout the Shepherd house, really. The ones before her right now all appear to be candid shots, not like some of the more "formal" ones from Derek's youth with the dropdown backgrounds that Addison has seen in the living room. These ones are real, un-posed, raw. There are a few blurry ones of toddlers in motion. There is Derek wearing a toy construction hat, probably four years old or so. Liz and Kathleen arm-in-arm, sporting alarmingly high ponytails. Nancy at the top of a playground structure. The three older girls smiling in front of a doll house with a pink roof. Derek standing next to his dad knee-deep in a lake, each with a caught fish in hand. Amy holding a stuffed unicorn. One of Derek and Mark (it tugs at Addison's heart that Mark is featured so heavily throughout Carolyn's home, too), around seven or eight years of age, dressed as pirates. Addison remembers Derek saying that his mom used to make the kids' Halloween costumes, and it would not surprise her if Carolyn had made Mark's, too. Then there is Liz eating spaghetti, her mouth and chin covered with sauce. There is Derek with only his eyes and a small grin visible under bulky hockey gear. There is Amy riding a bike with silver streamers. And then there are a few scenic shots with all the kids featured. Toeing through rain puddles. Building sandcastles on a crowded beach. In a pile of crackly-looking leaves. Standing in the snow, all five holding plastic saucers. Derek and his sisters have truly been loved—and not just loved, but cherished—through every single season.
Addison allows herself to stare at just one more: this one is Derek reading to Amy, who is definitely no older than Nora in the picture. Or maybe it is Amy trying to read to Derek, because upon closer inspection, Amy is holding the book, and her mouth is parted open, which makes it seem like she is sounding out the letters. Addison thinks that her boyfriend—and all of his family members, most likely—would have been patient with Amy as she learned to read. Addison herself was an early reader, thanks to her nanny at the time, Lina, but she only liked reading if she could read silently, or do nothing more than whisper the words. She knew the words. That was never the issue; it was pronouncing them without them being slushy-sounding that was the challenge. It took a solid year of speech therapy before she had mastered R and Th and Ch. Lina practiced the exercises Addison's therapist gave her to work on more with her than Bizzy and the Captain ever did. Bizzy's aloofness around the subject in particular made it clear to Addison even then that she was receiving speech therapy because the way she continued to pronounce certain words how a toddler forgivably might had now become a source of embarrassment for Bizzy; it was not because Bizzy sincerely wanted to help her struggling child.
Stop it, Addison tells herself. She takes a deep breath and then returns to the kitchen, where she is quickly the recipient of a Thank you, dear, from Carolyn, who tells her that she can go ahead and put the books in the gift bag. Addison carefully removes the To: Mom, From: Kathleen and Max tag still on the holly-printed bag, and then sets the new tag on the counter so that Carolyn can fill it out later. She takes a moment to see what books are in the pile: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing. Stuart Little. James and the Giant Peach. The Cricket in Times Square.
"Will they fit okay?" Carolyn asks, coming over to the sink—not far from where Addison is standing—so that she can wash her hands.
"Oh, yes. They will. I was just looking at which ones you picked," Addison says as she starts to wrap the books in tissue paper. "Are they for one of Liz's kids, or…?" Any of the books would require a parent to read them aloud, but then, Addison figures Liz and Patrick are probably the kind of parents who will climb into bed with their little kids and read them a chapter of something before bedtime.
"Actually, they're for Nancy. For her little guy," Carolyn explains while turning on the water. "I noticed that people always do that thing at baby showers—Nancy hasn't had hers yet—where they give books that are baby ones and toddler ones, which is useful, but I thought it would be nice to get some that the baby can grow into."
Addison smiles. "Yeah. That's a really nice idea." She finishes putting the books in the gift bag just in time to witness a green and red striped pot holder slip off the counter. "Oh. It's okay," she says before Carolyn—who had just started to reach for a towel to dry off her hands—can bend down to scoop the pot holder up. "I'll get it. Did you make this one?" She asks as she sets it back on the counter. The stitching looks so delicate.
"I did."
"It's really pretty. I…I made you a scarf for Christmas." Addison's cheeks flush a little as she says this, the disclosure taking her by surprise. The scarf she made for Carolyn—dark green yarn, weight 5—is fine, in the same way the cupcakes Addison decorated are fine, but she knows exactly what her hands are capable of (which now apparently may include gingerbread house decorating), and the stitching and piping she previously completed lack the precision she has shown during dissection, as well as the hands-on tasks she has completed this year during clinicals. "It's the first time I've ever crocheted something," she admits. "It's a bit messy…but it's a loop scarf, so hopefully that will hide some of the stitches I messed up on."
"I'm sure I'll love it." Carolyn's brown eyes seem a little warmer beneath the glow of the kitchen light box. "Thank you. That's so thoughtful of you. I'm really glad you were able to join us this year. I bet your folks miss you though. Do they host Christmas, or do they go to someone else's house?"
It takes Addison a moment to answer. In the silence, she can hear the snap of the front door opening and closing, which means Derek is back inside now. Derek, who has never once made her feel bad for the immense privilege she grew up with, because he was open-minded enough to see that privilege—no matter how many opportunities Addison has gotten that others have not, and no matter how many doors she walks through that others cannot even reach in the first place—is not the same thing as receiving love, affection, and encouragement.
She thinks of her family members as she opens her mouth to issue a response to Carolyn. Of Archer, who she knows would die laughing over the word folks, getting his ski equipment and luggage settled in the main cabin of Topper Caldwell's parents' jet, and had scoffed in early December when Addison asked him if he wanted to exchange presents this Christmas. She thinks of Bizzy, also packing but journeying in the opposite direction, electing to put an entire body of water between herself and her family in order to enjoy the clear skies in Malta. She thinks of the Captain, a Vodka tonic (lime, no ice) in hand, at home alone, except, no, he will probably not be alone, but Addison doesn't really want to dwell on that.
"We're kind of…spread out this year," she haltingly shares with Carolyn. "My brother is in Vail, with a few friends." Not friends from his old boarding school, which sounds pretentious. "And my mom is in Europe with her best friend. They've had this trip planned for a while." Her social secretary, and no, it was probably last minute, but Susan would have dropped everything to make sure Bizzy was pleased, as she always does, and it's not "in Europe" proper, but a 5-star resort on an island in the Mediterranean Sea. "And my dad is at home, but he's busy prepping for his next semester, so it's easier to just let him work." The Captain likely hasn't altered a thing about his spring syllabus, but Addison doesn't have to cover for him if she isn't there to see what there is to cover for. "Actually though…the thing is, we're always spread out. We did the present thing when we were younger, but as we got older, it wasn't…we don't really…" Addison cannot seem to stop talking now, and she wonders if any of this is changing Carolyn's opinion about her, as she tries to explain what her family is really like. The lack of familial closeness—a foreign concept as far as the Shepherds are concerned—must be unsettling to digest about a prospective daughter-in-law, since a daughter-in-law is automatically tied to in-laws. "The books you picked for Nancy's son…" Addison's fingers squeeze tighter around the edge of the white tile countertop. "In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, there's this line…it's Mr. Tumnus telling Lucy that in Narnia, it's 'always winter and never Christmas.'" She is aware that Carolyn is watching her closely, but Addison cannot bring herself to look at her for the next part. She takes a shallow breath, and then says, "That's sort of what the Montgomery house is like this time of year."
Carolyn's hand settles on top of one of Addison's, and she just rests it there. Lightly. So lightly.
"Well…" she begins slowly. "In the Shepherd house, Christmas comes every December. So I'm glad you're here. And you're welcome anytime." She retracts her hand. "I could use your help with just one more thing…have you ever made cannoli before? That's okay," Carolyn assures swiftly when Addison presses her lips together in a way that says no. "I know you kids don't have time to bake or cook, with how busy you are." This is true, but Addison still feels like it was a kind thing to say. "The hard part is over, since the dough has already been fried, and put away. We're just going to make the filling—I already drained the ricotta—and then put that away, too. I'll stuff the shells tomorrow. It's better to serve it straightaway when the shells are at their crispiest, but it's all right; it'll still be good. Truthfully, it's not my favorite dessert, but Christopher loved it, and so do the kids."
Addison makes the filling (by herself, and even though it turns out to be a remarkably easy task, it still feels like an accomplishment) while Carolyn washes up a few more things, issuing each instruction as Addison carefully mixes the contents of the bowl. She notices that Carolyn is close enough to help, and watch, but she is really not watching too closely. Apparently, she trusts Addison to see this all the way through.
"You're not even looking at anything," Addison remarks once she has added in the second-to-last ingredient. A cup of this, a teaspoon of that, and a quarter teaspoon of that. At this point, it is just powdered sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon being added to the ricotta, so it's not exactly an extensive list (and Carolyn herself made a comment about how she uses a "simple" recipe, not "the traditional one"), but when Addison thinks back over the course of the day…she realizes she never once saw Carolyn reach for a recipe book, or hunch over the counter with a finger tracing down a list of paled-with-time instructions. "All the things you made today…you have the recipes memorized."
"She likes to showboat that way." Derek's friendly voice echoes from behind Addison. "Need any help?" He asks as he approaches the counter. Addison feels happy to see him. Later when they are alone she will ask him if he overheard any of her conversation with Carolyn. It will not bother her if he did, because she trusts with her entire heart—and before Derek, she never would have trusted anyone so unreservedly—that he would be able to assess for himself if she needed privacy, or if it wouldn't be too intrusive to hover nearby to make sure she was okay. Derek is methodical, and for the most part he is incremental and cautious when it comes to decision-making. All the things he does though…Addison feels like he does them with love, or at least good intentions. And besides, everything she said to Carolyn—it's nothing Derek doesn't already know.
"We're about done," Carolyn says to Derek. "Addie just needs to add the chocolate chips and mix it up again—just a half-cup, dear—and then I'll put it in the fridge. And…I'd say at this point it's more habit than it is memorization." Carolyn shrugs, and the subtle markings bracketing her mouth become more prominent as she smiles, perhaps a bit touched by Addison's observation. "I've been doing this for a long time."
As Addison slowly eases the chocolate chips into the filling and swirls everything together, she thinks that in this case, habit is synonymous with love.
Derek swipes his finger along the side of the bowl when his mom has her back turned. Addison thinks he is doing it for himself, but then he surprises her when he grins mischievously and holds his filling-coated finger out for her. Addison closes her lips around his finger, pulling in all traces of the filling. She does it as quickly as possible, because the idea of Carolyn catching her sucking on her son's finger is much more humiliating than anything Addison shared about her family with Carolyn earlier.
The filling tastes sweet. But being here with Derek tastes even sweeter.
"Hey," Derek says to Addison when he has returned from washing his face and brushing his teeth. He closes the bedroom door behind him. He thinks maybe the weekends—and there have been plenty—that he and Sam have both stayed at Addison and Naomi's apartment with its one shoebox-sized bathroom have been good practice for a few days at the Shepherd house, since everything here has to happen in shifts, and there always seems to be a line. The Shepherds have the advantage of a bathroom downstairs, too, but still—there are eight people in the house tonight, and six of them are still in the process of getting ready for bed. "That's…" his eyes do a quick once-over. "What you're wearing?"
"Are you making fun of my Christmas pajamas?" Addison cannot figure out what his expression is supposed to convey. It looks like confusion, mostly, which is not a face she sees from Derek often. She glances down at her long-sleeved pajama set with its notched collar and button-front closures. A wave-like pattern of Christmas lights skates back and forth down the length of the pajamas, with short little black lines slashed around the tip of each colorful bulb to make it look like they have been turned on. This is the first time Addison is wearing them—she bought them earlier this month, and decided to save them for closer to Christmas—but this is far from the first holiday-themed sleepwear she has donned in December. She has several other festive pajamas that have been in rotation throughout the month. And Derek knows that.
"I'm not making fun of them. They're cute. Really cute. They just…" he grins faintly. "They cover a lot of skin."
"Wait, did you think…?" Addison is immediately tickled by this statement, but does her best to keep the volume of her laughter low. "Derek. You're insane if you think we're having sex tonight. Even if I didn't feel super weird about doing it in a house full of people you're related to whose rooms really aren't that far away…do you remember how much we ate at dinner? And did you see how much dessert I had? There's no way I can fit anything else in me right now."
"Not even just one more thing?" Derek starts to laugh too though. He makes a vague gesture to indicate his bedroom, and tries to see it all through Addison's eyes. Nothing has changed since high school. The blue and gray plaid bedding on the full-sized mattress, the gooseneck lamp, the curtains his mom made that complement his bedding, the London Calling poster, the single-drawer nightstand, the white bookcase he is pretty sure will collapse if he attempts to move it even an inch, the wall shelves crowded with Yankees and Rangers memorabilia, science awards, hockey trophies handed out at the end of each season, and a few knick-knacks that belonged to his dad—it is all the same, as though time froze when Derek stopped being a full-time resident in this house (he knows that Nancy would argue that time has not frozen, but that Carolyn simply considers Derek's room to be "a shrine" to him). "My childhood bedroom doesn't put you in the mood?" He says sarcastically. "All right, fine." He grins when Addison approaches and pecks him on the lips as a consolation prize. "I do want to give you something though before we go to bed. Not that." Derek sees the look she is giving him. "Well, that if it's not off the table, I mean…" he ducks out of the way when Addison raises a hand to lazily swat at him. "Hang on. Lemme grab it."
Addison looks doubtful when Derek returns with a thin, rectangular jewelry box that he had tucked into the side pocket of his luggage. "This is supposed to happen tomorrow," she tells him when he holds the box out for her. His family opens presents on Christmas Day, but Addison suggested to Derek a few days ago that maybe the two of them could exchange gifts on Christmas Eve, so that they could have a little more privacy, and he readily agreed.
"Technically, it is tomorrow." His eyes flicker towards the red numbers on the radio alarm clock before settling back on Addison. "It's 12:04."
"You know what I mean."
"I still have something else for you for Christmas Eve night." Derek observes one of Addison's eyebrows start to arch up at this statement. "It's not sexual. Okay, you know what?" He shakes his head, amused. "Maybe you're the problem here."
Addison sinks her teeth into her lower lip, and makes sure her voice is as husky-sounding as possible when she tells him, "I might be." She sobers though, and accepts the box from Derek's outstretched hand. She gives him a grateful smile, and then lifts the lid to find a pair of diamond snowflake earrings winking back at her. "Oh," she says softly, the exclamation more breath than word. "They're so pretty."
"I figured I'd give them to you now, just in case you wanted to wear them before Christmas, or something. When you got my mom the poinsettia ones…I saw these a few display cases over, so I went back the next day and got them." He watches Addison lift her head. "It's okay," he pushes on when he can see what she wants to ask him, but that she is hesitating for concern for maybe hurting his feelings. "I could afford it."
"I love them." Addison carefully traces her thumb over one of the sparkling edges. "They're beautiful. I'm putting them on first thing tomorrow." She thinks she would like to wear them every Christmas from now on. "I'm just going to put them…" her words fade away as she walks over to the nightstand next to Derek's bed, where he assumes she will set the jewelry box.
Derek waits for her to turn back around so that he can ask if she wants her "usual" side of the bed, or if she would prefer to have the easier exit route; the right side of Derek's bed is against the wall, so whoever has that side is going to end up having to climb over the other person if any bathroom trips end up being needed during the night. Derek would rather know Addison's preference ahead of time, because a wave of exhaustion has suddenly washed over him, and he is pretty sure that the second he lies down, he might not have the energy to move. So, he'll ask first. Addison always sleeps on the right side. Derek doesn't know how it started, how seamless it all really was, that two people who before they met each other had been accustomed to sleeping in the middle of bed, just figured out so easily that no matter whose bed they were in, Derek would sleep on the left and she would sleep on the right. And the funny thing is, on nights where Addison doesn't come over, or Derek doesn't go to her apartment, he is firmly planted on the left side of the mattress, because the total of the bed just really does not feel like his anymore. It's for both of them.
It is taking too long. Derek realizes that this was what he saw earlier in the kitchen after he had come back inside with the mail. He had stepped away though that time, not because he did not want to be there, but because he did not want to intrude. He had listened for a few seconds though when his mom was talking with Addison, just to confirm that she wasn't crying. This time is the same, but different. Her grip on the nightstand is how she was holding onto the tiled counter earlier, and her head is bowed like it was then, but this time, he can see a subtle, singular jerk of her shoulders, followed by a quiet sniffle. This time, she is crying.
"Addie…" he places a hand on her upper back. She slides in Derek's direction, and he wraps his arms around her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I'm okay." Addison sniffles again. "I just…I just really like being here. And I really like your family. I like them all the time, but I especially like them this time of year." She makes a soft, appreciative noise when Derek skims his mouth over one of her warm, water-lined cheeks, trying to offer comfort. "You know that my family…" she adds weakly. "You know they aren't like this."
"It's a good thing they aren't your only family then. We can share mine. My family can be your family, too. It might be unofficial, but one day they'll officially be yours, too, since I'm going to marry you." Derek feels Addison's teeth accidentally scrape against the material of his white undershirt when she smiles. "And actually, you have three families, because you and me…we're our own family. And I…I promise that since we're together, all your winters are going to have a Christmas." Addison hugs him a little tighter in response, and he knows in that moment that she understands the significance of this statement. "You're always going to have a Christmas with me," he repeats.
Addison ends up crawling into bed first, either out of habit or because being on the far side does not bother her, so Derek shuffles in next to her after turning off his bedroom light. He shifts onto his back and gathers Addison close, leading her to his chest. Her head is tucked beneath his chin now, and he knits his fingers through her hair, gently playing with the vibrant strands close to her scalp.
"I'm okay," she says softly when Derek touches her elbow with his free hand. As tired as she is, she cannot resist adjusting her position a little just so that she can kiss the underside of his jaw. "Tell me what you guys do on Christmas Eve again," she requests when she gets resettled.
It feels like a combination of a bedtime story and a lullaby for Derek, both statements and susurrations as he rubs away a few lingering tears from Addison and walks her through what all of Christmas Eve usually looks like for the Shepherds. It's okay to sleep in, he tells her—his mom would probably be upset if they don't. Christmas music starts playing once everyone is awake; they have about ten different albums they cycle through throughout the day. Everyone who isn't already here comes over around lunchtime. They all help his mom a little bit, but she usually insists she has everything under control; she likes getting to dote on them all, and this is the time of year when that happens. They eat a light lunch—soup and sandwiches, though appetizers and treats are at the kitchen table pretty much all day. The grandkids open their presents from Carolyn after lunch—Grandma-to-grandkids only, because everything else is saved for Christmas morning. The afternoons are relatively low-key. They talk, go outside for a bit, and sometimes play games…anything to keep the kids entertained. They eventually put everything on pause to take pictures with a combination of a disposable (his mom always has those in bulk) and Max's EOS-something camera (Derek realizes that will be the moment his family appears less Walton-ish, because posing for family pictures almost always leads to bickering, but he just smiles when Addison interrupts him and says that they should get a picture of just the two of them, too).
They also decorate sugar cookies, which is a decent reward for the kids for getting through pictures. They each eat one (okay, sometimes more than one), and then save the rest for Christmas Day. More of the same happens entertainment-wise after pictures and cookies. They try to limit the TV if they can; they aren't always successful at this, but they reason that things like How the Grinch Stole Christmas! and A Charlie Brown Christmas are both pretty short, and since they're Christmas-themed, aren't they…sort of educational, in a way? This makes Addison giggle. And then he tells her about the early dinner they have: roast chicken, herb-cheese rolls, salad (Kathleen handles this, and usually mixes it up each year), and garlic and chive mashed potatoes. They have cannoli and his mom's famous ("famous" in Derek's eyes, at least) cheesecake bars after dinner, and then they walk around the neighborhood and look at Christmas lights. Once they come back inside, the kids change into their Christmas pajamas ("So I'll fit right in," Addison jokes), and Carolyn reads The Night Before Christmas to the little kids, who are usually exhausted by this point—there is always at least one who conks out mid-story—while the adults listen, too. Then they take all the stockings off the living room wall, and put the fire out. Liz carts her bunch home, and usually someone goes with her—this year, Nancy and John—and then they'll return the next morning.
It all sounds cliché, Derek thinks…but it is not necessarily unique, or over-the-top, the things his family does. They are not trailblazers for family devotedness at Christmastime…most families have a thing, or things, and he doesn't want Addison to believe his family is perfect—if she thinks that—or that this is the Right Way to do Christmas. The things the Shepherds do are ordinary, really. But, then, Derek considers that that is probably exactly what Addison wants, what she has wanted and been looking for her entire life.
"Addie…" he whispers. She is heavier in his embrace now, and he can hear the subtle shift in her breathing, signaling that she is about halfway towards sleep. "Guess what Pat told me when I was helping him get the kids in the car."
"Either 'screw the Red Sox' or something about him being a heroic, self-sacrificing soldier and paving the way for you to be able to sleep with your girlfriend in your childhood bed."
"No." Derek quietly laughs into her hair. "Both things track, but what he actually said was that he thinks we're really good together."
"He's right."
All is calm, all is bright. The lyrics are swishing through Derek's head as the Shepherd family reaches their "usual" cross street and then turns around to head back, but this time on the neighboring sidewalk so that they can get a closer look at the houses that are on the opposite side of the street. All is calm, all is bright is accurate. The night sky above them is clear, a stunning blue-black swath with pin-pricked stars that seem just as shiny as the earrings Addison has on that are currently obscured by a ribbed cashmere beanie. No snow is expected for a few more hours, the last they heard.
They have seen some truly beautiful decorations during their after-dinner-and-dessert walk around the neighborhood. Christmas lights are stretched snugly around rooflines—large bulb sets in a host of colors, and thinner, simpler ones in either solid red or white. Frost-feathered wreaths and bells are hanging from front doors. There is a glittery reindeer pulling a sleigh in one yard that the kids squeal over. There are snowman and elf and penguin yard stakes. One house has an entire "Santa's Workshop" on their front yard—it has been here every December for at least ten years now—that looks like a blown-up version of the one Carolyn has in her winter village set. And there are Christmas trees looming large in front windows (I like the trees with the colored lights best, Addison whispered in Derek's ear at one point) that offer a peek into each warm, light-filled home.
Derek looks over at his girlfriend. They are walking a bit behind everyone else, which means they are hardly moving at all, because the kids love to stop to examine the decorations from a distance, and they are slow walkers even when they actually are in motion. Addison senses Derek staring, and when she gazes back at him, she smiles broadly. Her nose and cheeks are faintly pinkened from the cold, and Derek knows that his are too, but it looks cuter on her. She slept fitfully in his arms last night, and she seems happier today. Well. That does not seem to be the right way to put it, Derek thinks. She was happy yesterday, too. Maybe freer is the right word to use. It is like Addison was maybe able to let go of some of the lonely, painful Christmases past that still had a vise-like grip on her, because now she knows that she will never have another Christmas like any of her past ones again. She will never have another season like that again. She and Derek will experience each season side-by-side.
"You know what Hemingway said once?" Derek asks, and he watches the smile on Addison's face start to quirk into a different shape—a different kind of smile—when her lips thin out. He knows he set her up with an opener like that. Derek can still remember the first time they went out for drinks together, and they were asking typical What's your favorite…? questions to get to know each other, and the subject of books came up. They had both been so nervous. But even then, Derek swears he knew that she was it for him. When he told Addison what his favorite book was, she had raised an eyebrow, looking a little amused. "Is The Sun Also Rises actually your favorite book though, or is that just what you tell people your favorite book is?" She asked, and Derek had laughed. He hoped that she would always keep him on his toes like that.
"He probably said that his writing style is self-indulgent, and that he knows his works go on for chapters and chapters without anything really happening." Addison is still smiling as she shares this with Derek, her tone lightly teasing as it often is, and he finds himself thinking, I will love you every day of my life, Addie Montgomery. "Not all thoughts need to wind up on the page, you know."
"He also said in A Moveable Feast to 'never go on trips with anyone you do not love.' So." Derek squeezes her hand a little tighter. "I'm glad that when we decided to take a trip to spend Christmas here, that we loved each other. Love each other."
"You're sappy on Christmas Eve, Derek Shepherd."
"I guess so." Their footsteps are even slower now, and when he goes to say something else, a squeal from up ahead cuts him off. "What are they…?" He asks softly. Two of his nieces are jumping up and down.
"They're saying snow." Addison holds her palm up so that he can see a fresh flake now sticking to her black glove. "It's snowing," she tells him.
"It's snowing," he echoes.
All is calm, all is bright.
As they resume walking, this time putting in a little more effort to catch up to the rest of the Shepherds, Derek thinks more and more about the fact that Christmas honestly would be a good time to propose. Addison loves Christmas. He loves Christmas. And they love each other. What could be better? Definitely in private though—even if his mom hadn't recommended that, he would have done it that way anyway. It's more Derek and Addison, to have it just be them, and to celebrate with loved ones later.
The thing is though…Addison deserves nice winters just as much as she deserves nice Christmases. Maybe even more so. Derek keeps a smile to himself as a plan begins to formulate. Next December, on the twenty-first, when the first day of winter arrives: that is when he will propose.
. .
. .