A/N: Hello! Thanks for giving this fic a chance. It has one scene per calendar year, and spans from 1989 to 2005. It is told entirely from Mark's perspective. My *eventual* plan is to write a companion piece from Addison's perspective, but "December, Again" is only Mark's POV. It'll be no more than a couple of chapters—it's all outlined, and now it's just a matter of filling in the blank spaces. The first chapter is just the med school years.
1989.
The place looks different this time of year. That is the first thing Mark notices when he steps inside, scuffing the ice-dampened soles of his shoes against the mat as interior warmth begins to replace a cold winter evening. He has not been to Bear Tavern in over a month—none of the med students really did anything at the end of fall term besides hunker down with textbooks. So, the festivity in here is new to him. Large plastic ornaments are suspended from the ceiling. A wreath is occupying an empty space on the walnut-stained backbar. And lights have been strung lazily along the top shelf, casting a faint glow over the bottles on display.
His usual bar—because four months at Columbia is enough time for him to have established "usuals" in Washington Heights and Manhattan's surrounding neighborhoods—is different for another reason, too. Tonight it is just going to be him and Addison. It takes Mark a few seconds, and then he spots her at the bar, seated on the far right, almost hidden by an oddly-positioned artificial Christmas tree.
It was Derek's idea for the two of them to meet for a drink. You're like the only ones not going home until Christmas Eve. I don't want her to be alone the whole time. Just go get a drink on the twenty-third or something, he suggested.
It is not clear to Mark why Addison is waiting this long to return to Connecticut. He didn't think to ask Derek, and he isn't sure he'll ask Addison, either. It might be too intrusive. Maybe she just isn't close with her parents. That would be Mark's reasoning for delaying going home, too, except that isn't an option this year because his parents are at a resort town in Switzerland at the base of the Alps, which crosses out the possibility of Christmas with them anyway. He had dinner with them at Chanterelle before their flight, which was a mostly painless holiday substitute.
Mark has been invited to spend Christmas with the Shepherds. So, he won't actually be alone. Hell, he basically has a standing invite to all their gatherings. And it's far from the first time he has spent Christmas with them. He is "family" to them, that he knows for certain. How many times, after all, has Mark heard Carolyn say my sons, plural? But, he didn't want to tag along when Derek left for White Plains last week. Mark's connection is a made one, not a biological one, so he still feels like an intruder with the Shepherds sometimes. He reasoned that it would be best to give Derek's nuclear family time without him in the lead-up to Christmas, even though he knows Carolyn would have scolded him for having this kind of outlook.
You'll love Addie. That was the other thing Derek said. And Mark is mulling it over as he approaches the bar counter, making his way toward Addison. When he gets close to the vacant stool beside her, she twists in his direction, probably sensing his presence. You'll love her, Mark, once you get to know her.
It's not that Mark doesn't know Addison Montgomery, his best friend's girlfriend of three months; he just doesn't know her that well. He can count on a hand the number of times they've spoken one-on-one. When they interact, it's usually in a group setting, because who knew a cadaver would be a friendship-forming origin story—and relationship origin story, in the case of Derek and Addison—for the three of them, and Sam and Naomi. And Mark's other main chance to spend time with Addison would be when she comes over to the apartment that he shares with Derek, which has happened on occasion, but Derek usually goes to Addison's apartment instead. Mark understands. More privacy, for one thing. Derek said Addison has a roommate, but the roommate—Savvy—is usually with her boyfriend, so it's kind of like Addison lives by herself. And her apartment has more space, and better amenities. That much was obvious when Derek returned the morning after he slept at Addison's for the first time. You should see her place. I think her family is rich, he told Mark, who was forced to try his damndest not to roll his eyes. Okay, it had only been Derek's third date with the redhead, so he was still getting to know her, but Mark could tell from the very second he and Addison shook latex-gloved hands when introductions were made in gross anatomy that she came from money. The only question was whether it was old or new, but it didn't take much longer to deduce she is the opposite of him—Mark is new money, and she is old. He assumes that like any self-respecting individual with generational wealth and a certain degree of etiquette classes under her belt, Addison keeps tight-lipped about her financial advantages, but it's still mind-blowing to Mark just how obtuse Derek can be at times.
"Sorry I'm late." He's not late. Addison is just early. Mark feels bad, however, when he notices that she has peeled away the label on her beer bottle—she clearly needed to do something with her hands to keep herself occupied while waiting for him. Little blue pieces have formed a half-wet pile on top of her napkin.
"It's okay." Addison scoops her parka off the stool beside her and then resettles it over her lap so Mark can sit down. "I didn't want to order for you," she says next. "I figured beer, but I wasn't sure what kind."
"It's fine. Did you want another…?" He cannot tell what she has been drinking, thanks to her label being ripped to shreds. Or how much she has already drunk, for that matter.
"Yes, please. And"—she looks a little sheepish—"it's Sam Adams."
"Two Sam Adams," Mark requests when he is able to flag down a bartender. He catches Addison reaching for her black handbag, mumbling something about not having opened a tab. "No, I've got it." He makes a waving motion with his hand. "It'll be my Christmas present for you. This way I've gotten you something, too," he adds, and this makes her smile. Addison gave him, Sam, and Naomi each a small box of assorted chocolates on the last day of class, tied with a peppermint-striped ribbon. Mark hadn't been expecting any presents from friends, so he definitely wasn't prepared to give anything in return. He had observed that Derek hung back while Addison distributed the chocolate boxes, so he assumed Addison informed Derek she was planning to get the three of them something. It occurs to Mark now—though it doesn't really matter, he supposes—that he never asked Derek what Addison got him, and what he got her, since they would have likely given each other presents before Derek returned home on the nineteenth.
He watches as Addison lifts her chin at the TV above the bar, which prompts his eyes to follow the same path and clock the details on the screen. The Rangers are playing the Capitals. The third period has just started.
"We tied it up at the end of the second," Addison shares as their beers are placed in front of them. "Broten scored. There've been a lot of penalties tonight. What?" She laughs when Mark arches a brow. "I'm not entirely hockey ignorant."
"Even if you were"—he cannot help but smirk—"your boyfriend would have made a dent in your ignorance by this point."
"True. Derek does love hockey. He said you guys played in a youth league together. You know, it's pretty amazing—like, unheard of, I feel—to have had the same best friend since you were in second grade." Addison gives him a warm look. "He talks about you a lot. And I guess you and I…well, we talk in class, and in group settings, and you're all too chatty"—there's another smile from her—"when it comes time for you to ask to see my Foundations of Clinical Medicine notes, but it's never really just us." She pauses, and Mark bobs his head in agreement. Great minds. This is exactly what he was thinking when he arrived at the bar. "I'm sure that was part of Derek's motivation for convincing us to come here. To like really get to know each other."
"Well. In that case." Mark raises his beer. "It's nice to meet you, Addison Montgomery."
She clinks her bottle against his. "It's nice to meet you too, Mark Sloan."
1990.
It was Naomi's idea to do a Secret Santa exchange. It'll be fun, she insisted as she held out an emesis basin containing slips of paper she had written their names on. But—she had added, giving Sam a wink, and then offering some sort of meaningful look at Addison and Derek, too—don't think if you get your significant other's name, it lets you off the hook for other stuff on Christmas Day. It made them all laugh, including Mark, who was probably the least enthused in their group about this gift-giving thing, but he still didn't entirely mind.
Mark made sure to keep his face neutral when he drew Addison's name. He knows her now. And he does like her as an individual, not just as Derek's girlfriend, not just as a fellow student who takes excellent notes during lectures, and not just as someone who is a part of the wider social circle he is in. He actually called Derek the morning after he got drinks with Addison at Bear Tavern—Carolyn would have let him have it if he didn't call ahead of time to say he was on his way, and, yes, he would drive safe—and he told Derek that his girlfriend was great. And, the thing is, Addison is great, and Mark does know her. But, knowing someone and knowing what to get someone for Christmas are different things. They just are.
He buys a candle for Addison. It's a nice candle though, an ivory-shaded pillar one with canella berries and wispy-looking, flattened juniper folded inside the wax. It winds up being a little more than twenty dollars—the price limit Naomi imposed—but none of his friends will know. He thinks Addison will like the candle, and he also thinks it fits her apartment style, which is very, very girly. Mark has only been to her apartment once, but that was his immediate takeaway. Addison lives alone now, because Savvy moved in with Weiss last summer. And Naomi and Sam—who met in undergrad at Georgetown—also live together. Mark figures it is only a matter of time before Derek and Addison get a place of their own. He is not sure how long it is "normal" to date before taking this step, but Derek and Addison are so solid as a couple. Marriage—even if it is a long way off—just seems inevitable.
It is an odd feeling for Mark, to witness his friends moving what is arguably considered forward, while he is just…not. He had plenty of girlfriends in high school and college, but he's never had anything long-lasting, and certainly nothing that has felt significant. Which is okay, because being single and unencumbered is more fun, and Mark doesn't want to be in a relationship anyway right now. He's not trying to lock a girl down while at Columbia. But, it can still be lonely and isolating to feel like you are being left behind. Even when that's your own choice.
On the last night before exams, the five of them take a break from studying to pass out the presents Naomi lugged across campus in a canvas tote. She had gone the extra mile earlier in the week by having a classmate collect their gifts one-by-one, and the classmate also took care of the name tags so there would be no immediate signs—recognizable handwriting or otherwise—of who brought what. And now Naomi positions each present in the center of the library table they are huddled around, and tells them to go ahead and open the presents at the same time, and then they can reveal who had who.
Mark skims one of his fingers along a plaid gift-wrapped box with his name on a tag tucked beside a bow. He quickly narrows it down to Naomi or Addison. Never mind how good Derek and Sam are with medical instruments; neither of them could have the patience to wrap a present this neatly, nor would they have thought to add a bow. But, Mark resists unwrapping his present for now—which goes directly against Naomi's request—because he finds himself wanting to watch Addison. It's just a candle that he bought her, yeah, but it's not like he grabbed the first one he saw. Mark knows what he's like, and how he behaves, and he is aware that the version of himself he shows to the world isn't usually the most respectable one, but he's not an outright asshole. He might not be a great person, but he wouldn't say he's a bad one, either. And he truly did try to find a candle that felt like Addison, if a candle can feel like someone. He wonders, if she winds up being the one who drew his name, if she put some thought into his gift, too. Probably. She's nice like that.
"Now, let's guess…" Naomi prompts. Their chatter is loud enough that a student trying to study at a nearby table throws a disgruntled look their way—something about being this tired has made their conversation both funnier and more exuberant. They quiet then, but they have already determined by this point that Derek got Sam, Sam got Naomi, Naomi got Derek, and Mark got Addison. Which, by process of elimination, means that Addison got Mark. "So…" Naomi continues with an amused look, keeping her voice down. "Thanks for not listening to the instructions, Mark." She makes an ahem noise while staring pointedly at his still-wrapped gift, which makes them all laugh.
"Sorry." Mark shakes his head. He is able to quietly chuckle along with his friends as he begins to peel back the plaid paper. It was worth it to watch Addison's face, because even though he is sure she is polite enough to feign enthusiasm, he still caught her expression when she saw the candle, and it seemed like she liked it. "I got distracted." He shrugs, and then fixes his gaze on Addison, becoming more serious, which is a contrast to the playful, laughter-filled mood around the pair of them. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't hate my gift."
Addison smiles at him. "I definitely don't hate it. Thank you for the candle. I love it. It's so pretty. And I guess now you know"—she points to the present he is continuing to unwrap, but not too fast—"that I got you, too."
1991.
They do not make the Secret Santa an annual thing. This decision comes about in the early days of December. It's not that they aren't feeling the holiday spirit; they are just too tired, too busy, and too stressed. Major Clinical Year will do that to a person.
Mark still assumes they will buy each other presents though. Maybe? Probably? This is new for him. The subject comes up one afternoon while he, Derek, and Addison are prepping for the boards—their first certifying exam will be here before they know it. And Addison is practically scandalized when the guys admit they have never gotten each other anything for Christmas before. Birthdays, yes, when they were kids, but never Christmas. Mark has exchanged Christmas presents with girlfriends—not that he's had many who have been around long enough to necessitate a holiday-specific purchase—but never with just a friend. And what friend would he have even been interested in giving a gift to besides Derek, anyway? I don't think it's something that guys do, Mark tells Addison, but his statement sounds more like a question, and from the way that he sees Derek sort of nod but then abruptly stop nodding, it seems like his friend isn't clear on the rules for this either.
Addison shakes her head, disappointed. "You're doing it wrong."
"I bet that's not the first time you've had to say that," Mark quips, with an exaggerated tilt of his head in Derek's direction.
"Shut up." Addison is laughing though, in that throaty sort of way that Mark notices she does when he makes a comment like this. And Derek gives him a playful shove, too. "At least get each other a six-pack, or some food or something, and call it even," she says to them both. "You can't not get each other something. Men can give men gifts, because men have feelings too, you know. And it's a really good feeling to give and receive at Christmastime. Mark"—he could see the warning in her eyes then—"don't even say it."
Mark allows himself to think more about presents later when they take a well-deserved break so that they can order food, and just clear their heads of potential microbiology and pathology-related test questions for a bit. Derek is on the phone, looping a finger distractedly around the coiled cable while waiting for someone at their favorite Chinese restaurant to answer. Addison is propped on the other side of the couch, reading, because of course she would use her free time to read, but Mark has to consider that reading for fun right now is probably more bearable than watching the Knicks try to hang in there with the Bulls, which is how he (and Derek, too, when he gets off the phone) is choosing to pass the time while they wait for their food to get here.
His eyes track what is happening on the court at Chicago Stadium while he muses about what he could get Derek and Addison for Christmas. Addison is right: a six-pack and call it even. Neither he nor Derek are particularly sentimental. So, that works. But what about Addison? A gift certificate is the first thing that comes to mind for Mark, but it's not like she can't afford to buy anything she wants, and it feels too impersonal anyway. And not just impersonal. Lazy. Mark thinks a gift certificate would be acceptable for Naomi, but not for Addison. He is closer to Addison than Naomi, and maybe closer to Addison than he is to Sam, too. He likes Sam a lot, but Sam will always be the tiniest bit on the outside just by virtue of how bonded Mark and Derek already are. Plus, Mark hasn't seen as much of Sam and Naomi lately anyway—there are a lot of wedding-related things they have been attending to.
Today is a perfect example: Sam and Naomi aren't studying with the rest of them at Derek and Mark's apartment because they are busy writing out their Save the Dates. They are getting married in July, in the window between their third and final year of med school. I could never do that, Addison said a few minutes ago. I don't think I could plan a wedding while in school. Derek had given her a cheeky smile in response and said, Then I guess I'll wait until after we graduate before I propose. And Mark had simply held his textbook closer, trying to focus on the list of enzymes. He felt like he was interrupting a private moment. It was interesting—he is not sure this is the right word, but it's the one that comes to mind—to hear their dialogue though. Mark has been certain for a long time now that Derek and Addison will eventually get married. But this is the first time they have ever hinted at it in front of him.
Because Addison is Derek's girlfriend, and because Derek is Mark's best friend, it is like there is increased pressure to get her a decent Christmas gift. It is like if Mark lets Addison down, he is also letting Derek down. Or something. It all sounds weird and muddled and frankly too cheesy in Mark's head, but he can't coax the train of thought away. This is something he has never had to contend with before—and maybe that's what is leading to this feeling of pressure? This is the first real relationship of Derek's that Mark has borne witness to. His best friend was far too shy and awkward to date in high school—he could barely even talk to girls. And while Derek did become more confident around the fairer sex in college, thanks to his skin clearing up and him finally getting the right hair products, there were over eight-hundred miles that separated Bowdoin from UNC. It wasn't until they started at Columbia together that Mark really obtained a front row seat to Derek's romantic life.
"Everything okay…?"
Mark startles at Addison's question, but then he realizes that she is not looking at him. She is focused on Derek, who is returning from the kitchen with a frown at the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah," Derek answers, his features resetting. "Everything's fine. They're short on staff today though, so they're not doing any deliveries." He shakes his head when Mark's hands drop to his sides, preparing to push off the couch. "No, stay," Derek says before Mark can offer to go with him. "It's just three blocks. No sense in all of us going out there."
"You sure?" Mark asks while Derek heads to the small closet near their front door to retrieve his coat and the warmest boots he has. It's not too bad outside, thankfully. Low forties and windy, but the snowfall has been light so far this month. "I could—"
"I'm sure. I'll be back soon with the food." Derek grins and then adds, "Try to wheedle out of her what she's getting me for Christmas, Mark."
"So…what are you going to get him, Red?" Mark asks when he can no longer hear the echoing tap of Derek's footsteps in the sixth floor hallway. He'd rather just watch the game, honestly, and Addison seems perfectly content with whatever she is reading, but he doesn't want to be rude. Well, not entirely rude, anyway. Addison had told him before that she doesn't like the name Red, but he can't resist calling her that every once in a while.
Mark is surprised when she glances up from her book with a worried look in her eyes, and a mouth that is stretched into a tight seam. This is different from how she looks when she is stressed, because that look he knows, because all med students look stressed almost all the time. This is just…different, somehow. Is she really that concerned about Derek's present?
"Addison…" he continues when her lips haven't parted to try to offer an answer. It is like she has completely seized up. "You know he's not picky. Plus, it's you." It's not a lot to go off of, but Mark presumes that Addison understands what he means. The whole world sees how Derek Shepherd looks at his girlfriend, said girlfriend included. And Mark knows better than most, since he's known Derek for seventeen years. It's strange, in some ways, to think that no matter how close someone else becomes to Derek though—Addison, for example—they will never know Derek as long as he has. "You could give him a used paper towel and he'd still be thrilled."
"I know he'll like what I got him." She does not become more specific than that though. "I finished all my Christmas shopping last month."
Mark smirks. "Of course you did."
"Except Carolyn." Addison breathes in deeply. "Sorry. I just…I've been getting all worked up about it. I'm still trying to figure out what to get her. Derek said if I want to get his mom something, we can just go in on it together—he hasn't started Christmas shopping yet—but I sort of want to get her something that's just from me. I actually bought her a pair of snowflake earrings." Addison tucks a thick strand of hair back behind one of her ears, which makes visible to Mark a diamond earring with sparkling edges that have been shaped into a snowflake. "A pair just like the ones I have on," she explains, and he nods. "But—the thing is—I don't think Carolyn will like them. It's not like you would wear earrings like this year-round, so it's just…kind of impractical. She'd probably rather have something useful or just…I don't know." Addison shrugs limply. "It needs to be perfect though, because I'm really hoping to win her over."
"I'm sure you've already won her over," Mark says. This will be Addison's first time spending Christmas with the Shepherds—and his fourth—but she has met Carolyn and also Derek's sisters a couple times now. And Mark hasn't heard any negative reports from Derek.
"No, I haven't. Carolyn doesn't like me. She's perfectly nice to me, but…also dismissive. And cold. Just in subtle ways. She doesn't think I'm right for her son. But, I can't tell Derek that. I mean, I told him once before that I thought that maybe his mom didn't like me, and he said that she did, and I was just over-analyzing things. He'll just think I sound crazy, especially because I don't have any proof. And I don't want to keep pestering him about it. I know I'm right though."
"Addison…" Mark isn't sure what to say. This is a new development. He knows that Addison can be hard on herself, but she has always appeared confident. He doesn't like to think there are med students in his year who have an edge on him, but she does. There is no denying it or pretending otherwise: Addison is brilliant. And she seems to carry herself just as confidently outside of lab and hospital settings, too.
You need to date someone smarter than you. That's the problem. You need someone who can challenge you. Mark can recall Derek saying this to him once when they were in high school. The memory has returned to him now, for some reason. Who is actually smarter than me though? Mark had said back, and although he laughed, he was quite serious. And his feelings have not changed with time. He is dumb—spectacularly dumb—about a lot of things, yeah, but he's also incredibly intelligent. And this isn't about him just being sexist. Not really. He has zero romantic interest in men, but he'd be pretty hard-pressed to find a guy that's smarter than him. The reality is, Mark is smarter than most people. Smarter than Derek, too, even though Derek would never admit it.
Addison's voice is barbed with a warning when she says, "Don't tell me I'm wrong."
"Okay." Mark thinks that maybe she is just asking for him to listen then. And maybe for feedback on her present. "The earrings sound nice," he reports, but he can see Addison's point about Carolyn considering them impractical. "I'm sure Derek's mom would like them."
He really doesn't know what to do. Or what else to say. Addison is staring at the TV now. She looks genuinely pained, and now Mark is afraid that she might start crying. His stomach feels tight. He doesn't think he'll be able to stand it if she cries. Yeah, he knows she is sensitive—a feeler is the description that he heard an instructor once use to talk about doctors who get too attached to their patients—but he has never seen Addison cry before. She probably doesn't let anyone other than Derek or her closest girlfriends see her cry. And there's no reason for her to let him see her cry, at any rate. Probably because she suspects he'd be completely helpless to do anything to support her. And Mark isn't convinced that her suspicion would be incorrect.
Addison's words come out hollow when she asks, "How did you win her over?" She is smiling a little, so Mark knows it's a joke, but she is too sad for it to actually be funny to him.
"Not sleeping with her favorite child was a good start." This gets more of a smile out of Addison, albeit a blush-filled one. "Wait here."
It does not take Mark long to locate in one of his dresser drawers the porcelain music box he purchased a few months ago. He had been dragged into Henri Bendel by Veronica, a classmate who was in the same primary care clerkship block as him in September. He had been following her around the department store, trying to act invested—a means to an end to finally get her to give it up—as she hemmed and hawed over what to buy her grandmother for the woman's upcoming birthday. Veronica had briefly examined the music box before moving on to something else in the home section, but Mark stayed where he was. Carolyn. Her name popped into his head as he stared at the pair of red cardinals cuddling on a smattering of blossoms at the top of the hand-painted lid. He usually just brings a bottle of wine and chocolates for Carolyn whenever he goes to her house for Christmas (even though she always insists Mark only needs to bring himself), but…this music box was really nice. It was her, in the same way that silly candle last year was Addison.
And, well. It's not like Mark was being a saint about the whole matter. He figured it would be a good way to impress Veronica, to show her the "nice, sensitive side" that some women apparently like to see in men when they are toying with the idea of whether or not to get into bed with them. Veronica's whole expression had softened when she doubled back to find Mark and he explained that he thought this would be a perfect gift for his mom (it felt wrong to mention Carolyn, since that was sort of like co-opting a piece of Derek's life, but Mark wasn't really lying anyway, because Carolyn has always been like a mom to him). But, yeah. It impressed Veronica, and she turned out to be pretty enthusiastic with her mouth later that night. Except that same mouth was screaming all sorts of obscenities at Mark a few weeks later when he screwed everything up.
"That's gorgeous," Addison murmurs when he sets the music box on the coffee table in the main room. She crouches down to get a better view, and Mark observes as she lightly runs a finger over the scrolled edges and the watercolor-pale embellishments on the box. "The pattern of the birds and flowers on the sides reminds me of those pillows Carolyn has in her den."
"Yeah, exactly." Mark feels proud that Addison has recognized this. That was why the music box caught his attention. The pattern, and that he knows for a fact that Carolyn likes anything bird-related. Addison probably knows that by now as well. And, although the music box was a bit pricey, it does not look like it, which is a bonus. Carolyn could probably just as easily find something similar at a Hallmark store or JCPenney. "So, this is what I was going to bring to the Shepherds' for Christmas," Mark says, and Addison rises back to her full height, looking a little confused. "But, nothing says that I need to be the one to give it to Carolyn."
"No." Addison shakes her head fiercely. "I can't take this, Mark. It's really sweet of you to offer, but no. It's your gift for her." But you need it more, Mark thinks as Addison continues to state that she could not possibly accept this. "And what would you—"
"I'll get her something else," Mark finishes, shrugging to convey nonchalance. He doesn't want Addison to feel guilty. "I usually just go with Merlot and chocolate anyway. This was kind of overkill for me. I only got it to impress a girl who made me go shopping with her." He decides not to say Veronica. Addison and Veronica are not friends, and he does not believe they have any classes or rotations in common this year, but Addison is not going to forget any time soon—maybe not ever?—that when they were all at Bear Tavern on Halloween, Veronica threw a drink in Mark's face. And then once Veronica explained to the bartender why, the guy told Mark to leave. Thankfully, his friends came with him, even though it was obvious—well, more than obvious, since Addison and Naomi didn't mince words about the situation—that they were upset with him for cheating on Veronica.
"I'm sure there were indeed girl-related reasons that I don't need to hear about. But…" Addison smiles again. Mark feels like she has so many different kinds of smiles—there must be more he hasn't seen, but it already feels like he has seen so many from her over the past few years. "I know that's not the only reason you got it. I know Carolyn means a lot to you."
"She does. But, that doesn't change the fact that this gift would be better coming from you. It's the perfect gift to give a mother-in-law." Mark might as well say that part. Derek and Addison felt comfortable earlier bringing up the thing about a future engagement, so it's not like this is different. "Addison, I insist. And if you decline," he teases, "you're being rude to me."
"Okay. Then…I accept. Thank you so, so much, Mark. What did it cost though? I can—"
"It's fine," he says. "Don't worry about it. Actually, you can consider it my Christmas gift to you. I haven't had time to stop by the candle store yet." Addison giggles a little. "And don't tell Derek." Mark means for that to be a joke, not serious, but he does kind of instinctively know Addison won't say anything to Derek about this. "You'll get extra brownie points when that little mama's boy sees what you got Carolyn without any help."
Addison comes forward and circles her arms around Mark next. He has been hugged a few times before by her—usually when alcohol has been consumed—but never this tightly, or with this much affection. She hangs onto him for a few moments, and when she finally pulls away, Mark's chest still feels full of warmth. Addison was right about what she said to him and Derek earlier. As cheesy as it is—because that's what this feeling Mark is feeling is, right?—it does feel good to give someone a gift at Christmastime.
1992.
Addison's Yale sweatshirt gives Mark an idea for her next Christmas gift. He isn't sure why it took him this long to consider that she might like to have something Columbia-related, given that the sweatshirt that represents her prior university has been a staple in her wardrobe for as long as Mark has known her. He and Derek once joked that they actually had more custody of the Yale sweatshirt than Addison did; it was one of the items she tended to leave at their apartment, because it was such an easy thing to throw on in the morning after spending the night with Derek. Mark supposes it's also one of her more memorable clothing choices simply because Addison doesn't repeat outfits very often.
That sweatshirt was a good icebreaker for him and Addison, too. It happened a few weeks before they had drinks at Bear Tavern, back when most of their means of communication were still happening in a group, or with Derek between them. That morning though, when Mark had wandered into the kitchen, only Addison was there—Derek had always been impossible to wake up on weekends. And Addison had greeted Mark in a shy, embarrassed sort of way while she was getting the coffee started. Embarrassed, even though this was probably the third or fourth time she had slept at their apartment, and it was pretty damn clear that this thing she and Derek were wrapped up in wasn't a fling or a one-night stand. There wasn't any reason for her to be averting her gaze from Mark. And he didn't think it had anything to do with her appearance either. Yes, Addison looked like she had just gotten out of bed, but she was one of those women—though Mark knew better than to say this aloud to any woman ever—who looks just as great without makeup. There was something cute that morning about the messy pile her hair had been swept into, and something just as cute about her bare face.
"Hmm." Mark came to stand next to her by the coffee pot. "I have to say, I actually had you pegged for Brown."
"Oh." Addison peeked down at her sweatshirt, in the way people often do when someone acknowledges something they are wearing. "Yeah. I got in there. And a few other places, too," she added. Mark didn't want to disrupt the flow of the conversation, but he was tempted to tell her: You don't have to say other places; you can just say you also got into Harvard and Princeton. "But, Yale is kind of a family thing. My dad went there, and he actually still teaches there. So…" Addison raised one of her shoulders and gave Mark a hasty look before facing forward again. "It was kind of expected that my brother and I would go to school in New Haven. But, I really enjoyed my time there"—her voice took on more of an upbeat quality when she said this, but it seemed genuine to Mark—"so it was definitely the right choice. Anyway…"
"Addison. Look, I assume that you guys fuck." That made her blush hard, which somehow made Mark feel awful and pleased at the same time for not finding a gentler way to broach the subject. It was sort of amusing to throw Addison off like that though. "I mean, I don't know." It's not like Mark was trying to hear what was going on in the room across the hall from where he slept—he definitely was not—but common decency when living with someone else is to keep the volume down, so he was sure Addison and Derek—well, probably more Addison than Derek—were doing everything they could to be quiet. "But I'm drawing a reasonable conclusion here," he continued. "So. I'm just saying…"
Addison turned to face him, resting a hip against the counter. "What are you just saying, Mark?" Her voice was sassier that time, and it made him grin. Good. She could hold her own.
"I'm just saying you don't have to act weird and be all embarrassed when we run into each other in the kitchen the next morning. It's God's judgment you have to be concerned with." This was definitely a joke. Mark wasn't religious, and he was pretty sure she wasn't either. Derek hadn't said anything to the contrary, at least. "Not mine."
"I'll keep that in mind." Addison's eyes narrowed playfully, and Mark realized that he hadn't known before then that in certain lights, her eyes looked more green than blue. "So…" she smiled broader. "Can I get you some coffee?"
Something Columbia-related would be kind of perfect for Addison this Christmas. But, it's not like Mark can say that he intentionally went to the campus bookstore in search of a Columbia sweatshirt. His reason for Addison's gift also has to do with trying to avoid Emily Abrams. It kind of sucks, because it's like everything nice Mark tries to do also has a shitty side to it. He had been lost in his thoughts though—Match Day is only three months away now—so he didn't have much time once he looked up and saw a nursing school student he had a brief thing with walking in his direction. And Emily was dangerously close to noticing him, too. So, Mark had no choice but to abandon the South Lawn, turn onto Broadway, and then duck into the campus bookstore.
It is more crowded than usual—a campus tour for prospective undergrad applicants is going on, probably—so Mark walks over to the apparel section, where there is a bit more space. And that is when it dawns on him that something that represents their time at Columbia would be a good Christmas present for Addison. And maybe he could get something similar for Derek, rather than going with beer again. This would also be the ideal Christmas to go this route, since they will be graduating in the spring. Nostalgia has already started to set in, whether they want to admit it or not.
But is a sweatshirt the best idea? Mark can't decide if buying one for Addison is weird or not. It's the size component that is tripping him up. He doesn't know her size, but he can guess, because it's not like the clothes she wears hide her shape. And, although Mark isn't a plastic surgeon yet, he is capable of eyeballing a pair of tits and correctly guessing the woman's bra size. It's a skill. And yet. Is guessing Addison's sweatshirt size…creepy? Or weird? Would playing it on the safe side and going up a size for a baggier fit offend her? And what would Derek think? It's not weird, Mark doesn't feel, but could it maybe seem weird to his best friend?
He is suddenly overcome with an urge to scream. This is not the kind of shit he needs to waste time pondering. This is not the kind of shit Mark has ever wasted time on. But, this is, apparently, what happens when a certain redhead discusses ad nauseam the importance of giving presents at Christmas.
Mark chooses a Columbia knitted scarf for Addison, and a Columbia baseball cap for Derek. And he can throw in beer or a bottle of wine for them, too. He is not sure Addison will ever wear the scarf. It is blue and white, with a small lion emblem and shield sewn at the bottom. It's not the kind of scarf that Addison would declare fashionable. But, surely she will appreciate the gesture? Mark felt like the candle was right. And he felt like giving her the music box was right. And the scarf…it's not like it feels wrong. It just doesn't feel all that inspiring as he approaches the counter to pay for it. Or maybe seeing Emily Abrams fucked him up more than he thought. He decides to stop obsessing about presents, and busies himself with finding two simple red gift bags: one for the scarf and one for the hat.
"I don't think this is a candle," Addison says a few days later when she raises the bag that Mark has just handed her, experimentally testing its lightness.
"No, it's not." He tries to smile. "But, hopefully you'll like it anyway."