So, yes, there are ridiculously long periods of times between each chapter. I know, I'm sorry, but it's school holidays in the UK (not sure if it is in other places, too) and you'd think I wrote more when I didn't have as much work to do, but I was only less productive. And to be honest, it's not that I have trouble with writing, it's that I have trouble writing these beginning chapters, because I have to set foundations and etc., etc. And all the action starts later. Anyway, thank you all those who reviewed, as always. Hope you enjoy. Disclaimer previously stated.
Unchained Melody
Chapter 3: Brand New Sun
The sky was a deep burgundy, and the sun was only just coming into view; you could barely call the time of day morning.
Most of Seattle slept. But she didn't, and neither did he.
How can you not know what juju is?" Addison asked as she set to making the aforementioned beverage, Mark sat at the table eating cereal, his seat opposite from where Addison was stood.
It sounds like hot chocolate from what you've said," Mark told her, an amused expression on his face as he ate. "In which case I do know what it is.
She added marshmallows to what was currently hot chocolate but would soon become juju. "Don't talk with your mouth full," she chastised him.
He laughed at her and choked on a Froot Loop.
That'll teach you," she told him, finally finishing with the juju and setting a cup down before him on the table.
He nodded a thanks, his face red, and immediately took a gulp, effectively burning his tongue. She laughed as he started to choke again, and gulped down a glass of tap water.
"It's not funny," he told her once he'd downed a second glass. "I could have died, and then where would you be?"
"Oh, yes," she said. "I'm sorry, the world would fall into despair if you were no longer alive."
"Damn right," he nodded, taking a more cautious sip of the juju. "It is good," he said, genuinely surprised. "Even better than Ma Shepherd's Christmas hot chocolate. What the heck did you put in this?"
"A magician never shares their secrets," she smirked, eating a spoonful of his Froot Loops and ignoring his protest of 'Hey!'
"You probably drugged it," he joked, "and now you're going to take advantage of me and my brilliant body."
"You keep on dreaming," she laughed. "By round four, you're just kind of boring."
"Blasphemy," he gasped, making her laugh more.
"So," he continued slyly. "If I were to insinuate a round five you wouldn't enjoy it?"
"I don't know. Would I?"
"Challenge accepted."
And then they were kissing. And she smelt like talcum powder and cinnamon, and some kind of probably expensive, probably French perfume, and she tasted of hot chocolate and Froot Loops. And then they were kissing more, and she'd moved from across the table to against the counter, and-
"I am so sorry. I'll, just, uh, I'm just gonna… yeah, I'm gonna go, feed my turtle."
Godammit O'Malley.
She sighed, and he – somewhat reluctantly – stepped back so she could slip off the counter.
"I should probably go," she said, "you know, before my friends or your… weird intern roommates who I'm not even gonna ask about say something or do something, or… You'll probably want your shirt back."
She started to slip out of it, but he stepped closer again, trying to ignore their close proximity, and stopped her.
"No, uh, keep it," he said, even though the Columbia t-shirt was always a huge favourite of his. "And, uh, you should probably get dressed before you take it off. Because believe me, I'd love to see you naked again, but you probably wouldn't want my weird intern roommates seeing you naked too."
"Yeah," she murmured, blushing. It looked cute. "Bye."
"Bye," he told her.
He sat down at the table, finished his juju and cereal.
"Hey," Callie greeted her when she entered the house, her hair a mess and last night's clothes crumpled. "Long night?"
She poured herself a cup of coffee, already starting to feel the repercussions of staying up all night (because the nap between rounds three and four didn't count). "Kind of," she told Callie. "But in a maybe good way. What're you doing awake?"
"Late surgery," Callie told her. "Was he good?"
She sat down beside Callie, Mark's t-shirt still clutched in her hand, because he did say she could keep it. "Incredible. Where's Amy?"
"Passed out on the couch. She drank tit-for-tat with Taylor from Dermatology."
"Ouch," Addison winced.
"I know."
"Did she at least get something out of it?"
"Nah. Too drunk to do anything but flirt. But she'll learn. That's gonna be one killer hangover. Cwynar – you know, one of the new Plastics guys for the new wing, Webber's new project – says she was on her eleventh by the time Joe took her keys."
"At least she can hold her alcohol."
"At least there's that." Callie took a sip of Addison's coffee.
"You're charting?" she asked.
"Couldn't sleep. Adrenaline from the surgery, and way too much coffee. Derek moved in while you were out."
"Into the bedroom next door to mine, right? Because you know the one at the end of the corridor is strictly for guests, and we all know he isn't going to move out again for at least another year."
"Yeah. Makes sense anyway, because that poster of his is still nailed to the wall."
"Idiot. Vandalising my walls. With The Clash of all things too."
Callie patted her arm comfortingly. "There, there," she said, and then they both jumped at the sound of a beeping pager, each reaching for her own.
"It's me," Callie said. "911. Sorry."
She was already gathering her things, heading for the door.
"It's fine," Addison said. "I'll film Amelia's hangover for you, and we'll use it to teach our kids not to drink one day."
"Deal!"
The door slammed behind her.
Looking around as though there were somebody else inside the room to judge her, Addison held the crumpled Columbia t-shirt to her nose and sniffed. It smelt like him, like coffee and leather and mints and aftershave.
She smiled.
Amelia's hangover was everything it had promised to be. The resident awoke, bleary-eyed and pale, and immediately ran to the kitchen where Addison had stayed with her own charts, retching into the sink.
"I hope you'll clean that up, Shepherd," Addison told her. "'Cause I sure as Hell am not."
"Sure," Amelia gasped, before retching again.
Derek smirked from where he was sat beside Addison, eating muesli and reading the New York Times. "Rough night?" he asked.
"You forgotten you live 3000 miles away from New York?" she replied, voice hoarse, before downing half a bottle of water.
"God," she moaned, retching again.
"Should I assume you won't be coming to work today?" Addison asked, eyebrows raised, as she put aside yet another chart.
"Nah," Amelia gasped. "I'll be fine. Nothing the Amelia Shepherd hangover remedy won't cure."
Derek snorted. Addison, with a sigh, stood and walked over to where Amelia continued to retch, holding back her hair.
"Thanks," Amelia muttered as she finally finished sometime later, leaning back against the counter. "You can pick the movie tonight even though it's my turn?"
"Yes," Addison said. "I will. But you're still cleaning that up."
"Fine," Amelia sighed, before beginning to rummage through the fridge.
"You can't seriously be hungry?" Derek asked, still munching on that rabbit food of his.
Amelia pulled out a slice of pizza, some left-over Chinese take-out, and a juicebox. There was little inside the fridge that wasn't take-out or a drink.
"Apparently I can be," she replied. "Besides, Amelia Shepherd hangover remedy, remember?"
"That pizza's been there at least four days," Addison told her. "And Derek's picked out all the shrimp in that Chinese food."
Amelia shrugged and stuffed an egg roll in her mouth. "Good for a cleanse then," she said with a full mouth.
"Table manners in this city," Addison muttered, exasperated, as she collected all her charts.
"I have an appointment with Mrs. Jones in half an hour," she told them as she left the room. "Thanks for the consult Derek, by the way. You'll be doing the surgery, too, right?"
"Yeah," he said, also with a full mouth.
Addison rolled her eyes and left.
Amelia threw up, and upon finishing and taking another sip of water continued with her pizza.
It was Derek's turn to roll his eyes.
"Want some?" Amelia offered.
If he rolled his eyes anymore, they'd make a 360 degree turn in their sockets.
"Suit yourself," Amelia shrugged. "Hey, the pepperoni here's going kinda green! Wanna see?"
He stood. "No thanks," he told her. "I think I'll ask Addison for a ride to the hospital. You know, save energy and keep the planet healthy and stuff."
She laughed once he'd gone, and then she threw up, but she threw up smiling because she didn't feel sick anymore. And they'd been so cynical.
Amelia arrived at the hospital just in time to catch a trauma.
The busty, blonde nurse – Mark vaguely remembered her saying she was peds, or maybe a scrub nurse – smiled coquettishly, twirling a lock of hair around her grinned back, working familiar charm. She giggled.
He was, after all, a free man now. A bachelor. And he had, what? Three, four years of catching up on manwhoring to do.
"So I'll see you in the OR, right?" Derek finished, looking at Mark expectantly. Mark obviously hadn't been listening to what he'd been saying. "Mark," he repeated.
"Relax, Shep," Mark said. "I'll be fine, the patient will be fine. I'm the damn best plastic surgeon on the east – west, whatever – coast."
They were sharing a patient, a two year old with Crouzon syndrome in for a cranial reconstruction. Mark couldn't say he'd missed the control freak side of his best friend.
"How can I relax when you've completely ignored everything I've told you about the patient's history and needs in the past ten minutes? We both know you aren't going to read through the chart," Derek damn near nearly shouted, before striding off in a huff.
"Dr. Shepherd?" a timid O'Malley tried to follow him. "I'm on your service today?"
"Check on Allie Gilbert, pre-op and post-op," Derek told him coldly, not even bothering to turn around.
The tall blonde intern – the model one, her – came up to him, wringing her hands nervously. "Dr. Sloan?" she asked.
"I'll have a bone dry cappuccino," he told the intern, still looking flirtatiously at the blonde. "And hop to it, Sanders. I don't have all day."
"It's Stevens actually… remember, I'm your roommate?"
"That's nice, Sullivan. The coffee." He shook his head to the nurse, "Interns," he said with a 'what can you do' smile. "Hopeless, you know?"
He winked and she followed him into the nearest supply closet.
When he exited twenty minutes later, Blonde Intern – he needed to find a name for her – was waiting for him.
"Your coffee," she told him, disapproval clearly written on her face as she handed him the cup.
He took a sip. "Lukewarm," he told her. "You can do better than that, Blondie." The nurse – Emma, Emily? Began with an 'E' – exited the supply closet, smoothing down her hair and giggling as she caught his eye. "Next time you bring me a hot coffee, I'll consider allowing you to scrub in with me. For now, Sanders, you can go down to the pit and practice your stitching. I'll be in OR 5 if you need me."
The blonde intern glared at him. "It's Stevens," she muttered under her breath as she left. It took a lot of self-control for him not to make a sexual comment toward her, and by the time he was completely in control of his mouth, he'd realised he was late for surgery and was on his way.
He celebrated a successful surgery with Monica-or-Mandy from downstairs and sent Stevens/Sanders/Sullivan/whatever to manage the patient post-op in the ICU, make herself useful.
They met for lunch in the coma ward. Derek still wasn't comfortable with eating in the cafeteria, where he could bump into Rose or a vindictive nurse friend of hers at any moment, and the idea of eating without him there appeared absurd to his friends.
So they sat around Beth Tanner's bed, eating and waiting for Callie. Derek told them all about a craniotomy he performed and Addison was moaning about Dr. Chamberlain, the current Head of Obstetrics, also known as Hitler and The Bane of Addison Montgomery's Existence. Amelia was smug about her hangover having already passed, and boasting freely about it.
By the time Callie did arrive, topics had shifted and the three of them were in the midst of a heated debate on whether or not braindead, five months pregnant Ella Wilson should be kept on life support on her husband's orders for the next three months until the baby is viable.
"Hey," Callie greeted them, plopping herself down beside Addison. "The circulation in John Meyer's legs is too weak; he's developing gangrene in his toes and we're chopping off his legs."
"Damn," Derek sighed, before looking up again in surprise. "What are you doing here, Mark?" he asked.
Mark grinned from where he was stood behind Addison and Callie. He was in a good mood, because he managed a quickie with Hollie the scrub nurse before catching Callie. "What, why so sad to see my handsome face?" he asked. "Hi, Red."
"Don't call me Red," she told him. "Hi Mark. Your shirt's missing a button."
He didn't mind, even relished wearing shirts missing buttons after four years of monogamy.
"I found him by the coffee cart, harassing interns," Callie said. "I took pity on the poor Scrooge and took him to see his li'l buddy."
"Thanks for abandoning me before the end of my first week, Shep," Mark said, sitting down on Addison's other side. "Really feeling the love."
"Please," Derek replied. "You've probably tricked at least four women into giving you 'tours' around the hospital by now."
And then the topic was changing again, and they were discussing the case of some John Meyer, and he did love getting tours from different women four times a day and walking around in shirts missing buttons and slipping into supply closets with nurses whose names he couldn't remember – he loved being free after so long - but just her presence beside him gave him the thrill of freedom, and he leaned over and whispered in Addison's ear anyway.
"Dinner, Red. You and me, tomorrow night. I'll even pick you up after your shift."
And she said, "Yes," and she smiled.
And he could get any woman to go out on a date with him. It was no big deal. But his face still broke into a smile.
Reviews! Or review replies? Whatever!
Hushedgreylily – thanks! I do like the parallel thing, maybe a tad too much. I hope this ends up being one of those AU's for you.
Patsy/Guest – I'm glad you're giving this a chance! No, Meredith doesn't know she has a sister; she hasn't heard from or of Thatcher since Ellis left him some what? twenty six years ago? It'd make things too complicated, because- wow, thank you, I just realised Meredith slept with her sister's husband, I'm dedicating the chapter that comes into the plot to you. I think we all wanted Derek to walk on the wedding, really. Thanks!
Guest (1) – gracias!
Patsy (2?) – sorry if your reviews aren't posting, and sorry about the lengthy one you left a while ago. I have no idea what's wrong with the reviews if it isn't the sight; I've tried to do something about it, but nothing seems to have any effect on it all. Thanks anyway!