Okay. I am not a writer. I am not even close. But my heart bleeds Addek so I tried something. I decided to keep it short and sweet, mostly because I do not think anyone will read. However, if anyone dares to give me a chance, here's a little blurb about my inspiration. I have read many Addek fics, and they all seem to focus on one thing: the aftermath of Addison cheating. I am tired of reading about the mistake Derek pushed her to, so I wrote about what happens before. The before where Derek is not being the best husband. The before where Addison is trying desperately to save her drowning marriage. The before where Seattle does not exist. The before when they lived in New York. The before where- well you get it, right? This is before Mark and could possibly even exist in a universe where Mark never happens. Maybe because Addek find their way back to happiness? Anyways, this is me (and Addek) trying.
The Before
Her plan was simple. Well, at least in theory. Have the ingredients ready, the alcohol cold, and her spirits high (but not too high). Could she cook? No. Did they ever cook? Absolutely not. However, some ridiculous magazine a resident left lying around said they should try.
"Has the fire all but left your marriage? Try these five tips!"
Addison read them all, and much to her disappointment, the only one she had not tried was cooking together. So, here she sat. Cross legged, in her gorgeous Manhattan kitchen she never used, gently tapping her nails on the granite countertop, trying not to think about the humiliation she would feel if Derek actually forgot. God, what had her life come to? She did everything right. She worked her ass off through medical school, focusing on her future, while ignoring the boys. That was until she found the right one. They took it slow. They studied together. They learned together. They graduated together. They started their careers together. They were always together. Even during their 80 hour workweeks that residency forced on them, they were together. After working ungodly shifts, they always found a way to be connected, but that was before. This was now. Now, she sat in her home, which she shared with Derek. They lived in the same home, they shared a last name, and a bank account. But she had not ever felt farther from him.
Her eyes zeroed in on the clock that seemed to be permanently stuck at 6:30. Then a haunting thought crept in.
What if he forgot? What if he didn't show? He had to show, right? Especially today?
If he didn't, it wouldn't be the first time. But he would. He said he would be home, and this time was different. Granted he did not say the last part, she added that for him. Maybe it was because she needed it, or maybe she was just being ridiculous. After all, Derek saying he would be home meant about as much as a politician promising to fix the economy during their run for president. It almost never happened, but it sounded good at the time. Then suddenly, she heard it. The key. Derek's key. It was turning in the lock at the front door.
"Honey," she called, with a hint of question in her voice, as if the idea of him being home was too good to actually be true. "Honey is that you?"
"Yeah," he halfheartedly called from the foyer.
She bit on her bottom lip, feeling the words in her throat that she so desperately wanted to say. Just say them Addison. Just say them. "Can you come in here," she forced out instead. She heard his steps and realized that he was already starting up the stairs when she summoned him. Great, he's going to be furious that I dared request his presence before he can even try to start working again.
"Yes," he said, peering into the kitchen. He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped when he saw the food.
She stood up anxiously and glanced at the counter where the food was sitting. "I, um well I thought that we could cook some dinner."
He made a noise. A noise that was not quite a laugh but only because he did not find her obvious joke funny. Then he realized by the look on her face that she was not joking. His wife, who could be very funny, was not making a joke. He shuffled his feet, not knowing quite what to say.
"We never cook, and I thought that we could," she added, feeling a little more confident with absolutely no reason. The look on his face quickly drained what little bit of confidence she developed, and she felt her cheeks turn the color of her hair. "Yeah, it's stupid, I know," she mumbled. "But I bought some stuff. Some actual ingredients, for some actual cooking, and alcohol-"
"For some actual drinking," Derek finished, causing her to look up from the floor. Her stomach flipped when she saw the small smile on his face. "So, we can forget that we are not actual chefs?"
"Something like that," she said, with a smile. "You know, I do not know much about actual cooking," and she stopped because of his raised eyebrow. "Okay, okay. I do not know anything about actual cooking, but I do know about drinking."
"Mmmm so I have heard," he said, lowering his brow.
She rolled her eyes at his obvious delight that she corrected herself so quickly. "Anyways, if we drink enough, we can maybe have an actual good time." He crossed the room and started looking into the bags. Her stomach tugged her back down into her chair as she realized this was going too smoothly. Derek did not cook. Derek, Dr. God, did not cut vegetables. He cut brains. That was it.
"Addison," his voiced said timidly, pulling her from her thoughts. "What exactly are you planning to make?"
A fool of myself. "Stuffed chicken with rice and asparagus. Then maybe I thought we could take it easy on ourselves with cookies for dessert."
He nodded and held up a bag of spinach. "Is this what we are stuffing the chicken with?"
"And cream cheese," she added. Her eyes stayed on his forehead. That's where his truth always existed. Right above his beautiful blue eyes. Those eyes that had recently lacked their signature sparkle she loved so much. She expected his forehead to crease, and his brows to pull together. That was how he questioned her. Not playful questioning. That always warranted an eyebrow raise. The brows together were silent disapproval. However, she saw no sign of either.
"That sounds," and his voice trailed off as he pulled the scotch from the brown bag at the end of the table. "Now this, is what I am talking about."
Of course. He stopped right before he was about to do what she thought was compliment her. Or at least approve of her choice. "Derek," she said softly.
"Addison," he said back, just as softly.
She walked over to where he was standing. "Do you want to help me cook dinner?"
He was silent for a second, but it seemed like an hour. "I have some charts I need to touch up."
There it went. The little bit of hope she allowed herself to have came crashing to the floor. He forgot, and she knew it. She let herself believe they were not there. They were not that couple. She lied to herself, and now she was devastated. Her face showed it. She could tell, and she was almost sure she let out a sigh. A defeated sigh. Before he could notice her face, she turned to the grocery bags and began taking the food out.
Derek walked to the kitchen door, back towards the stairs, but something stopped him. He turned around and watched her silently. He watched as she carefully placed everything on the table. Her shoulders, which were usually held high, hung almost to her ankles. The Addison he knew never let her shoulders hunch. Even after hours of standing in those monsters she liked to call shoes, her shoulders were high, and her footsteps deliberate. Perhaps it was because of Bizzy who always insisted that "a lady is never caught with her stance less than square." Either way, no amount of exhaustion could make her look anything less than perfect. But there she stood, shoulders far from broad, and feet shuffling. He did that to her. He made her feel the way a 48-hour shift in stilettos failed to make her feel. "Addison," her name came out of his mouth before he realized what he had said. "The charts, well they won't take long, and since we are going to do some actual cooking, I will try to hurry." He cringed, not knowing if that joke was still okay to bring back.
She turned quickly and the smile on her face answered his question. "Okay, I will look over the recipe and start on the scotch." He nodded and turned towards the stairs. "Thank you," she mumbled just quiet enough that he could hear.
"Well, it is our anniversary," he added before he exited the kitchen.
Her eyes filled with tears.
He remembered.
Maybe they were not that couple. Maybe there was still some hope.
…
Thank you for reading. I know it was short, but if you enjoyed, please let me know. The future just might hold some chaotic Addek cooking. I mean, it is their 12th anniversary after all. So, if anyone pushes hard enough, the story can continue. I was very nervous to post so I literally need reviews to keep me going. Please shoot me a message or leave a review. Again, thanks for reading. xx
