Title: All the Difference: Tempering
Pairing: Alex/Addison
Disclaimer: They belong to Shonda and friends, not me.
Summary: An elaboration of the fight mentioned in the coda following part three of All the Difference proper

Despite the assurances of the fabulous sweetnarcosis, I'm still not sure that parts of this don't suck, but I've been wrestling with it for over a month, so here it is. Feedback would be most appreciated, especially since I'm unsure about the flow and characterization. I still hope you enjoy, though!

Cheers!

It must have been the pout that did it, Alex thinks. There's no other way she could have gotten him to agree to go to this fancy reception and dinner thing. Although he's learned how to counter most of her techniques, that pout, that wistful pout, is not something he's usually proof against.

He huffs out a breath as he pulls on his dress shirt. He'd forgotten how much he hates wearing a suit; he's never really felt like himself while wearing one, which is unfortunate, because he feels unsettled enough as it is. Although he's been acting fairly nonchalant, in truth the idea of this dinner makes him pretty damn nervous. It's for a bunch of Addison's colleagues from back east, many of them big name surgeons, in town for the same conference that Addison's been attending for the past three days. He's read their papers, envied their successes, and now he's showing up at their dinner, simply because he's with Addison.

That's what bothers him the most, really. He's just Alex Karev, former jock and second year resident from fricking Iowa. There's no way he'd be getting near any of these people for years if it wasn't for Addison. He knows it, and he's pretty damn sure they're going to know it, too. But he told Addison he'd go, and there's no way he could live with himself if he backed out now.

Stifling another sigh, he ducks into the bathroom to grab his cologne. He doesn't stay in there long, because Addison's makeup and other gorgeous-making paraphernalia seems to have taken over, and the last thing he wants to do is knock over some hundred dollar bottle of something.

Back in the bedroom, he slips into his jacket and studies himself in the mirror, wondering if he really has to wear a tie. He hates wearing ties. He thinks he looks okay without, but he doesn't know these people, so… "Addison?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Do I have to wear a tie to this thing?"

"No, you don't have to wear a tie, but…" She wanders into the room, screwing in an earring. She looks stunning, as usual, in a dress of bluish purple and a pair of her impressive heels. Looking up at him, she smiles, and then she stops. "God."

"What?" He shifts his weight nervously.

"You look so good."

"Yeah?" He puffs up a bit.

"You look like you belong in a Gucci ad."

He chuckles. "I can assure you, Dr. Montgomery, that this is definitely not Gucci."

"After staring at you for five minutes, who's going to care?"

He grins when he sees the heat in her eyes. Maybe this whole suit thing isn't so bad. "You sure you want to go to this thing tonight, gorgeous? We could stay here, I could peel off this suit real slow for you…"

"As tempting as that sounds, we're still going to go. It was a nice try, though." She rolls her eyes at him.

"Damn."

"Yup. Anyway, you might be surprised and actually learn something. Oh, hey," she says, rummaging around in her closet, "I have something for you."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Well, actually I just saw it the other day when I was out shopping. I was going to save it for your birthday, or something, but it actually goes really well with that shirt, so…here."

It's a tie. A really nice one, as far as he can tell, and much more expensive than he could ever afford, but…"You like it?" Addison asks.

"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, it's really nice. Thanks."

"Well? Try it on!" she urges.

"Okay." He loops the tie around his neck, but her watching makes him nervous, and he fumbles with the knot.

"Turn around." He does, and she fixes it for him. It should feel sexy, her standing so close and smelling so good, and in a way it does, but he can't shake the funny feeling at the back of his mind that something's just gone off balance.

Alex flings himself into the driver's seat, closing the door with an angry snap. Addison sits beside him, clearly uncomfortable, which is just fine with him at the moment.

"Alex…" She hesitates, then continues. "Are you sure you should drive? You had a lot to drink."

"I can manage to drive you home, Addison," he says tersely.

And that's all they say until they're up in her suite. Alex just paces as she begins to change, and tries to come up with a way to deal with the resentment that's churning around inside of him.

He can't believe she made him go to that damn reception, that she stayed there willingly, even after it became clear that they, or more specifically he, had been designated the main gossip topic for the evening. It made his skin crawl, all the smarmy smiles and knowing looks, the questions that seemed harmless but were actually designed to make him feel like an inferior idiot. So he sought refuge in whiskey, especially since Addison had seemed determined to act as though nothing was going on.

He's pissed at her, but he's not sure exactly what for or how he wants to articulate it. He's fine with the pacing and the not talking, though. He really doesn't want to talk right now.

"So, that was…"

Or not. "Educational?" he sneers. "You betcha." Hey, if she's gonna expect him to talk then she has to deal with him being pissed.

"Oh, come on, Alex…"

"Wait, I'm sorry, I forgot that they didn't treat you like the gum on the bottom of their shoe all night."

Her voice rises to match his. "Well, maybe if you'd actually contributed something, instead of sitting there like a stone, they would have had a reason not to."

"Hey, I tried, okay? But most of the night they were talking about places I can't afford to go to and surgeries I haven't even seen. What exactly was I supposed to say?"

"Opinions? Questions? Anything?"

"And give them another excuse to be condescending and send each other those looks across the room? No thanks. Anyway, why the hell do you care if I talked or not?"

"I just wanted…"

"You just wanted me to impress them, right? To not embarrass you? To prove to yourself and to them that being with me isn't a huge mistake?"

"Alex, that's not…"

"They were eyeing me all night, you know. All damn night. Staring at 'Addison's intern,' her latest screw up. That's all I was to them. I guess that having your name on a few big publications gives you permission to be a pretentious jackass and treat everyone else like shit, though, right?"

"I don't know why you're so surprised, Alex, since you perfected the art of being a total jackass long before you ever had any publications. Oh, wait. Silly me. I forgot that you still don't." Her voice breaks a little, but her eyes are still hard and angry.

He's so not staying for this. "You know what? Screw this. Whatever." He heads for the door but suddenly whirls back around. "You know what? I really, really did not want to go tonight, but I did, because you asked, and I wanted to try. For you. I guess I must really be stupid, because I thought you wanted me, Alex. But you don't, do you? All you want is some boytoy you can hide behind to convince yourself and everyone else that you aren't a lonely, bitter woman whose life is a total fucking mess. That who you want? Be my guest, I don't care. But it won't be me." He stares at her coldly and then, with a jerk, wrenches the expensive tie off his neck. "And you can keep the fucking tie," he snaps.

As the door slams, Addison feels herself begin to shiver. Not because she's angry, although she guesses she should be after some of the things he said, and not because of the way he left, although she suspects that will begin to bother her later, but because she's not sure if some of the things he said aren't true.

She flops down into an armchair and stares off into space. She did want to impress people by bringing him to the reception, God help her. She knew that the gossip-hungry must have been feasting on the details of the collapse of her "storybook marriage,", and she had wanted to show them that not only was she not sad and alone, but that she had managed to catch a hot young thing as well.

She winces. Put that way, it really does sound awful, and exactly like those horrible friends of her mother's who used to boast of their dalliances with some instructor or waiter twenty years their junior. At eleven, Addison had vowed never to engage in something that demeaning. But, as with most things, real life was proving her eleven year-old ideals to be pretty damn hollow.

Even worse, she had known what Alex would be faced with tonight, the snobbery and the condescension. So why in hell had she asked him, encouraged him to go? Why hadn't she been able to put her damned good breeding aside and told all those snobs to go to hell? Why had she just stood by and watched them treat him so poorly? You just didn't do that to someone you cared about.

For all of her encouraging, she had been surprised, even shocked, when he agreed to go. The Alex Karev she knew wouldn't have hesitated to tell her to take her party and shove it, if he felt so inclined. With a start, she realizes that his agreement had actually scared her.

He was trying. And the very fact that he, Alex Karev, was trying meant that whatever the two of them were doing had gone beyond fun and amusement to something approaching a relationship. In spite of all of her yearning for commitment, Addison feels petrified, because she's been burned too many times. Abandoned first by her mother, then Derek, and finally emotionally if not physically by Mark, she's not sure she could stand someone else leaving her.

And Alex's leaving her is inevitable. Isn't it? He's young, well young-er anyway, and gorgeous; those bedroom eyes are irresistible, and only become more so once you learn what's behind them. There's no way he'd really want to shackle himself to a woman several years his senior, forget one who's his superior in the workplace; it's practically guaranteed to end badly. Isn't it?

So. Her course is obvious. She has to end it, for both their sakes. But as she tries to reconcile herself to her decision, she finds that the idea of no longer having Alex in her life is a decidedly bleak one.

Because learning all the little things about him, things that she suspects few others actually know, has been fun. She knows that he loves MASH, especially Radar, and that his humming "Suicide is Painless" means he's happy. He sings off-key classic rock songs in the shower, and he always calls his mother on Sunday. She knows that he drove a battered red pickup of his grandfather's in high school that he named Dora. He hates doing laundry, and is adamant that yes, washing machines really do eat socks. She knows that he can cook surprisingly well, and that he learned because he was responsible for getting his sister fed when his mother worked late. He never minded watching her, apparently. Addison has discovered that Alex is like that; he's the first one to call himself a selfish jackass, yet he can be extraordinarily giving to those few that he actually allows himself to care about. To Addison, who's been fulfilling expectations all her life, he's fascinatingly unpredictable; she never knows what she'll find out next. He's her own personal never-ending scavenger hunt.

He'll take her on scavenger hunts of a sort, too. The week after he overheard her telling Callie she used to be a pretty good pool player in college, he takes her to his favorite slightly disreputable pool hall. After that they go fairly often, and he watches, amused, as she struts around the table in her tight jeans and little t-shirts, and trades insults and innuendo with the onlookers. He doesn't mind her flirting, as long as she saves the steamiest glances for him, and he only steps in when someone's getting too friendly for her taste. She loves that she can reclaim the daring, impetuous parts of herself with him, and loves it even more that he doesn't expect her to be daring and impetuous all the time.

Alex, refreshingly, has very few expectations of her… outside of work, that is. He's just as happy spooning on the couch as he is having raunchy sex (or at least he does a damn fine job of pretending it). When they do have sex, he's just as eager to get her out of boxers and a t-shirt as he is to get her out of lingerie. He doesn't mind when she wants to spend a lazy morning in bed; he'll either join her or go for a run. He doesn't expect her to be witty or charming or sexy or strong. He'll call her on her crap, sure, and make it clear when he disagrees, but he rarely dismisses her out of hand.

With him she can just be Addison. She realizes now that she's really missed that, being Addison, with no one to please or impress, with nothing magnificent to accomplish. It's such a…well, such a relief.

Suddenly, Addison's jolted out of her reverie by a drop of moisture hitting her bare leg, and she realizes with a start that she's been crying, maybe even for a while. It's not a dramatic lightbulb moment or anything; she doesn't suddenly realize that she's passionately in love with Alex and go rushing out to find him, but she's aware of how empty the suite feels without him, how the memory of his scornful stare and hasty exit makes her stomach hurt. She's not ready to say those three terrifying words, she thinks as she steals the t-shirt from his side of the bed, but someday, maybe someday, she might be.

Only now she doesn't have the right to hope, she realizes with a sinking heart, because there's one expectation that even Alex has: not to be treated like a cheap accessory by the one person who's supposed to care about him the most.

Alex lets himself quietly into the suite using the extra keycard Addison gave him. He tried knocking first, but getting no response this early in the morning left him a little uneasy. Of course, when he gets into the living area he knows immediately why Addison didn't answer the door.

She's asleep in the big armchair, her long limbs somehow tucked in around her, with an assortment of empty minibar bottles at her feet. She's wearing nothing but his old green t-shirt and mascara tracks made by tears.

Seeing the evidence of what she must have gone through last night, he feels a pang of remorse. He meant what he said, and he doesn't regret it, but he didn't want her to suffer quite this much. Carefully, he squats down in front of the chair and gently shakes her shoulder. "Addison. Hey, Addison."

Her eyes flutter open. "Alex?" She blinks at him blearily and slowly begins to stretch. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. Why else would I be here?"

"Uh, no reason, I guess. I just thought, after last night…"

"Last night I was pissed. I'm not as pissed anymore."

"Oh." She seems alarmingly close to tears. "I just thought…"

"What?"

"Derek. When Derek left, it was like that, with the door slamming and everything. He never came back. I guess I was afraid of that happening all over again."

He frowns. "Addison, I'm not Shepherd."

"I know. I know, Alex."

"I thought last night would have made that obvious to you," he points out dryly

"It did. And thank God," she says wryly.

Now he's confused. "What?"

"After you left last night, Alex, I thought about a lot of things, about what you said, and what I said, about what we're doing." She pauses. "You're so brave, Alex. You can say 'screw you' and mean it, and have no regrets. You have no idea how much I envy that. Nearly every single thing I've ever done in my entire life has been to please other people, fit in, meet expectations. It's really hard to break that pattern after nearly forty years." She takes a deep breath. "I think that's part of the reason why I let last night happen."

"And the other part?"

"The other part is, and I hate myself for this, so much, is that I'm afraid the things those idiots were saying, that you said, well…maybe they're not so far off base. You are much younger than I am, Alex, and I guess I'm just afraid that that distance, and what it means both personally and professionally, will make what we're doing impossible. No matter how long we're together, there's always going to be people who stare and make asides. How do we know that I won't start listening one day, or that you won't hate me for it?"

Although her confession stings, he admires her honesty. The least he can do is answer in kind. "We don't," he says simply.

"I don't want to hurt you, Alex, and I don't want myself hurt. I've had enough of that, even if most of it was my own fault."

"Addison, I can't promise I won't ever hurt you, okay? We'll end up hurting each other whatever happens. I can promise to always be straight with you." He smiles a bit. "You know I'm cool with doing that, right?" At her answering, if watery, smile, he continues. "Look, I know I've always said I hate it when chicks want to do that whole talking thing, but I'd rather you be straight with me about stuff like this, too. Hiding it isn't going to do either of us any favors. He swallows. "But hey, if you think that's too much, if you want to end this, you just say so, and I'll go back to just being the guy who gets your labs. Well, eventually, anyway," he amends, with a small, crooked grin.

"I don't want that, Alex."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure of much, but I'm sure I don't want that."

"Well, okay then." He looks around, and his eyes fall on the tie pooled on the carpet. "Hey, look what I found," he says.

"Oh, God," Addison half-groans, resting her head in her hands, "that tie. Seriously, Alex, just get rid of it."

"Nah, might need it sometime. Thing is, though, I'm not generally a tie kind of guy."

"Yeah, I know. It was a stupid impulse buy, Alex, nothing more. No ulterior motive, I swear. At least not when I bought it," she cringes, opening one eye to peer at him. "God, I hate myself," she mutters.

"Hey, now, honesty takes balls, Dr. Montgomery. And it's much sexier than that spazzy avoiding thing you used to do."

"Well, that's a relief."

"I thought it might be," he says smugly, just for the sake of her reaction; at the sight of her half-amused, half-indignant gaze his lips quirk upward. But then he sobers. "Look Addison," he begins, moving a tad closer. "At work, you're my boss, and I respect that; you're supposed to critique, advise, make me better. Outside of the hospital, you don't have to do any of that. Well, not as much, anyway," he amends. "And it's not on you if I screw up. I didn't start this thing with you because I wanted some extra tutoring, you know. I just wanted you. And your extremely hot bod," he smirks.

"Very funny. But seriously Alex, it's going to be really hard just to check our work dynamic at the hospital exit."

"Nah, it'll be easy. You smack me when I'm being a smug, annoying pain in the ass and I'll smack you when you're being a superior, elitist, you know, bitch. Problem solved." He sends her a teasing grin.

"Huh." She makes a show of considering that, then gives him a lopsided smile. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"

"I guess so."

They're both quiet, and then, seemingly out of nowhere, she says, "You know what I found out last night, Alex?"

"What?"

"Your not being here sucks."

He laughs at her vehemence, and decides that she hasn't quite slept off all the alcohol yet. "I can see that. You've got a nice collection of bottles here, Dr. Montgomery."

"Oh, God. So that's why it feels like someone is tap dancing around in my head."

"Yup."

"Well, at least there's an explanation."

She struggles to her feet, staggering a bit, and Alex decides there's no point in her falling and hurting herself. "You want a ride?" he offers.

She stares at him, uncomprehending, so he just picks her up and carries her into the bedroom. After he deposits her on the bed, there's silence for a bit, and then: "Did you just carry me to bed?" she asks wonderingly.

"I did."

"Nobody does that. I'm all huge and Godzilla-like."

"Nah, babe. You're much hotter than Godzilla. Even with mascara all over your face," he adds with a smirk.

She immediately tries to shoot out of bed, but he gets to her first. "Relax, it'll wait. You should sleep."

"Sleep," she purrs, sinking back into the pillows. Then, "Will you stay?"

He smiles a bit. "Sure," he says, and climbs into bed beside her.