AN: There is a sexual scene at the end of this chapter, so please be warned. It's nothing too explicit though. The title of the chapter comes from the song I Wish I Never Met You by Victoria Monét. She's a brilliant singer/songwriter. You should check her out.
Also, I just wanted to let y'all know that I update this story much faster over on AO3, by the same pen name. So, it's probably worth checking on there before here.
I hope you enjoy. Please review. :) LT.
part eight
look at all the weapons that you're killing me with
..
"There's that Montgomery spirit…"
Addison gasped into the kiss as she heard a familiar voice, wrenching her hands from Mark's hair and dropping them to his shoulders, pushing him away. She turned quickly, face flushing brightly at the sight of Archer smirking by the wooden doors, a scotch hanging from his fingertips. She could see Mark turning away quickly, his back to Archer as she put some space between them.
"Archer!" Addison exclaimed, flustered at being caught doing something she absolutely shouldn't have been doing. "This...this isn't what it looks like," she insisted lamely, gesturing between her and Mark.
Archer simply smirked, ignoring her words. "I always wondered about you three you know. Always so close, always together. A nice little ménage à trois," Archer teased, chuckling as Addison's face turned even redder than before. "Good for you, sis."
"Shut up Archer," Addison hissed, angry and embarrassed.
"What? At least I'm not Bizzy or the Captain. You know Bizzy would have a field day about this," Archer continued, still highly amused. "I was starting to think there wasn't much Montgomery in you at all, Addie," he teased.
Addison was flustered but before she could find something to say Mark was turning around. She glanced between her brother and her...and Mark warily, unsure about what was about to happen.
"I'm sorry, Addison. Archer," Mark said quietly, glancing briefly to her brother and then back again. He stalked off quickly, mumbling something about getting a drink. Addison wanted to follow him desperately.
"Mark," she called after him but he simply disappeared back inside without a word or a look back.
Archer watched the exchange with curiosity. He'd assumed he'd just stumbled on a drunken mistake of a kiss and decided to tease them. But seeing both of their reactions, he was starting to think otherwise.
"Addison, are you screwing the best friend?" He asked seriously, lips quirked up in amusement, eyes tracking her features curiously.
"Shut up, Archie," Addison snapped, lips pursed as she glared at her brother. "I'm not screwing Mark. Nothing is going on," she insisted, shaking her head. "Just...just don't say anything. Please Archer," Addison continued, hands pressed together worriedly.
Addison couldn't believe she could be so stupid and reckless. She could feel the panic prickling under her skin and her heart was still racing. She couldn't let Derek find out; she knew that he'd view the kiss as cheating and she couldn't do that to him. Even if she didn't feel like she'd done anything wrong. Which she realised was worse then the actual kiss that had taken place.
"Oh, come on Addison," Archer laughed, grinning as he stepped closer, slung an arm around her shoulders and offered her his glass of scotch. It was the equivalent of a peace offering between the siblings. "I'd never tell anyone, you should know that. You're my little sister."
Addison scoffed, swiping the glass from his hand easily and downing it in one go. Scotch wasn't usually her liquor of choice and it burnt her throat on the way down but it was certainly taking some of the edge off. Archer simply laughed as he guided her back inside, her eyes immediately scanning the room to catch some glimpse of Mark. It surprised her to realise that he'd somehow blended himself in to the rest of the party guests. The rest of the night transpired in an anxious blur for Addison.
It wasn't until they were on their way home, both with a little too much alcohol in their systems to be driving but it was clearly the night to be a little reckless, that Addison finally addressed the impromptu kisses.
"It can't happen again," Addison said quietly, teeth gnawing at her lower lip as her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. They were almost to his building, almost home and Addison knew if she didn't say anything now, it'd be too hard to bring up later. "What happened between us tonight, it can't happen again Mark. It was just a kiss but...but Derek would be furious and I'm not a cheater. Okay? Just a little drunken mistake," Addison babbled nervously, barely able to glance at Mark from the corner of her eye.
Mark nodded though he remained quiet for a moment. He knew Derek would be angry if he were to find out; he loved his best friend but he also knew that Derek saw things in a very black and white way. There was no room for mistakes or errors with Derek and even if there was, he certainly wouldn't see his best friend kissing his wife as a simple mistake. "Don't worry Addison. I'm not about to tell Derek. It was just the alcohol and the night air getting to us…" he replied, glancing over at her and giving her a small smirk. "Besides, what's a friendly peck between friends?" he teased, the alcohol slurring his words a little. He knew he was rewriting history a little but he didn't have it in him to call their kiss a mistake.
"A friendly peck?" Addison echoed, eyebrows high on her forehead as she glanced at Mark in the passenger seat. He was slumped and dishevelled in his seat but still so devastatingly handsome Addison didn't think it was fair. Especially when he turned that devilish smirk on her, the kind she'd watched women fall for, for years.
"Yeah. That's all it was Red. It...it doesn't have to mean anything more than that," he told her as she stopped in front of his building, pushing open the door and exiting the car quickly. "Goodnight Addison. Drive safe," he continued abruptly before nudging the door closed and turning his back on her. Addison watched him for a moment, thinking; he was right it didn't have to mean anything, except that...it did. How good it felt to have Mark's body pressed against hers, how happy she'd been about kissing him, how right it had felt to be kissing him - it all meant something, whether Mark said it did or not. And the very thought of it all terrified Addison as she drove home to the empty brownstone she shared with her husband.
..
"I'm disgusting," Mark murmured lowly, head tilted upwards and his eyes tracing the hexagonal pattern of the ceiling.
"And what makes you say that?" Dr. Andrew Abrams asked, peering curiously over at Mark. It had taken 15 minutes for Mark to utter two simple words and Dr. Abrams had been starting to think the other man wasn't going to talk.
Mark sighed, lifting his head to meet the therapists gaze. He'd only seen Dr. Abrams a few times before but the man certainly wasn't the first psychologist he'd ever seen; the others, before this, had all been women though and Mark hadn't had any qualms about getting them into bed instead of actually doing the work. Lately though, he'd realised, that the only way he'd be able to sort out the shit going on in his head would be therapy and so he'd made the decision to get serious about it. Hence, Dr. Abrams, a male therapist. Mark didn't trust himself not to give into temptation otherwise.
Temptation however had been coming more and more in the form of a certain redheaded neonatal surgeon and OB-GYN.
Which was how he'd come to the conclusion that he was disgusting. Because truly, what kind of man lusted after and fantasised about his best friends wife? That alone was enough of a violation of his friendship with Derek but then to go ahead and actually kiss Addison? It was unforgivable. And if Archer hadn't interrupted them...Mark didn't even want to contemplate what he'd have been tempted to do with Addison.
"Mark?" Dr. Abrams prompted, a carefully blank expression on his face and Mark sighed. "What makes you say that?" he asked again, genuinely curious about what had prompted the statement.
"I did something I shouldn't have and...and betrayed my best friend while I was at it," Mark told him gruffly, shaking his head. "I kissed my best friends wife. My best friend that I've known since grade school. I kissed his wife...and she kissed me back but...that doesn't mean anything," Mark stressed, arms crossing tightly against his chest.
"And you feel guilty? Is that why you think you're disgusting?"
Mark's lips pressed together tightly and he avoided Dr. Abrams gaze. He didn't exactly know how to answer that. It was more complicated then that.
Dr. Abrams sighed. "You know, Mark, this doesn't work if you don't talk. So, talk or not but this is really just wasting your time if you don't," Abrams informed him lightly, giving him a slight shrug.
"It's complicated Doc. I don't feel guilty for kissing Addison…" he said slowly, cringing a little at using her name. He'd been careful to avoid actually naming anyone in his life, the medical social scene was rather small in New York, especially when he'd found Dr. Abrams through Kathleen Shepherd. "I feel guilty for violating my friendship with my best friend. He trusts me with his wife and I broke that trust. Even though he doesn't know it. That's why I'm disgusting."
"That doesn't make you disgusting Mark and I think you know that, deep down. But it does seem like you're disgusted with your own actions. Was it just a kiss or do you have feelings for...Addison?" Dr. Abrams asked.
Mark shook his head, ready to deny any and all feelings he may be feeling for Addison. But then his mouth was moving before he could get it in line with his head. "I can't stop thinking about her. Even before the kiss. I've never really looked at her like that before...all this. We've been flirting for months, I've held her while she's cried, I let her get jealous over some girl flirting with me. Things have been happening...happening underneath the surface I suppose. But she's...she's Derek's girl…" Mark trailed off, suddenly angry at himself for not realising the extent of what had been going on with him and Addison until now. He'd been so wilfully goddamn blind. He was a bastard.
He stood abruptly then, a hand running roughly through his hair as he looked at Abrams. He didn't want to think about this or talk about it. He was getting dangerously close to admitting something he absolutely didn't want to admit. He needed to get out of there he decided as he shrugged his leather jacket back on and headed for the door.
"You still have 20 minutes left Mark," Dr. Abrams said, though he knew Mark didn't care about that. He knew the hotshot surgeon didn't care about the money he'd be wasting walking out on a session.
"I'm done for the day," Mark insisted gruffly, shooting Abrams a look and closed the door behind him. He headed for the exit, deciding that what he needed, instead of a therapy session, was most definitely a drink and a pretty young blonde to go with it.
..
Something was going on and Derek couldn't quite figure out what it was. It had been over a week since his MassGen surgery and Addison's parents' anniversary party and things had felt off since then. He'd thought for a few days that she might still be angry with him for cutting out on the party but she wasn't acting angry and that's what was confusing him. He'd expected the silent treatment or passive aggressiveness, instead she'd been reasonable and affectionate and even solicitous towards him - which wasn't uncommon for Addison but it had been a long time since she'd been like that with him.
Still, Derek couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that was going on. And there was something going on with Addison, he may have been absent and neglectful but he was around enough to realise the perturbing Stepford act she had going on. He loved Addison but she was no Stepford Wife. He wondered whether something had happened at the party with her family; he certainly wouldn't put it past her parents to be the reason behind her sudden change in attitude. He wanted to ask her about it, to know what had happened but selfishly, a part of him was enjoying her change in attitude. He figured if it was something serious or bad she'd have told him herself by now.
Derek however was three hours late for a dinner he'd promised Addison he'd be home in time for and he expected Addison wouldn't be happy and their tentative new situation would explode.
"Derek?" Addison called out as she made her way into the foyer, leaning against the open threshold that lead to the rest of their home. She bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from getting angry; Derek hadn't even called to tell her he was going to be late. Mark wouldn't have...but no, she wasn't thinking about Mark. "I already ate. I tried to wait but it's been a long day. I left you a plate in the microwave, just take the foil off before you heat it up," Addison told him, determined to keep her tone light and her expression neutral.
Derek looked at her in surprise as he shrugged his coat off and hanging it up and running a hand through his dark hair as he frowned at his wife. He expected passive aggressive sniping, a fight, not this...subdued acceptance he was getting. "I'm sorry I'm late, Addie. I meant to call but I got caught up," Derek told her and it was the truth, he had meant to call but the thought had been a fleeting one and then he'd been focused on the emergency he'd been called into.
"That's fine, honey. I know how it is. I'm heading up to bed though," she said, her own words sounding strange to her ears as she stepped forward and plastered a smile on her lips. "Goodnight," she said, pressing a stilted kiss to his cheek and heading for the stairs.
Derek watched her go, his frown deepening. Everything that had happened in the last two weeks had felt off but that interaction had been the most uncanny of all. She hadn't made any fuss at all - she wasn't acting like herself and though he could do without the arguments and fights they had, it just wasn't Addison. Deciding that dinner could wait, Derek made his way upstairs, following in his wife's footsteps.
She was getting ready for bed, standing in only her underwear as she rifled through the closet looking for something to wear to bed, just as she said she would be. Her back was towards him and he simply stood in the doorway, watching her curiously for a moment. She looked tense, even when she thought she was alone and Derek frowned.
"Are you okay?" Derek asked, letting his voice announce his presence.
Addison jumped at the sound, whipping around with wide eyes, an old band t-shirt of his in her hands as she pressed them to her chest in surprise. "Shit. You scared me Derek," Addison gasped, shaking her head a little. "I thought you were eating?" she questioned, folding the t-shirt over her now crossed arms.
"I will. But, you didn't answer my question," Derek replied, not missing the fact that she'd completely ignored his question.
"What question?" she tossed back, dropping the shirt over the end of the bed, running a hand through her long hair.
Derek sighed, coming further into the room and sitting down on the edge of their bed. "I asked you if you're okay. You haven't seemed yourself lately," he said, blue eyes watching her intently.
"I'm fine," Addison said, her eyes avoiding his guiltily. Despite Mark's insistence that it was just a friendly peck Addison knew better and the guilt had been eating away at her ever since.
Derek scoffed at her words, shaking his head. "If that were true, we'd be in the middle of a fight right now. I was three hours late for dinner Addison, any other time and we'd be having a screaming match and slamming doors and plates," he said incredulously. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside his wife's head right now.
Addison nodded at his words, absorbing them for a moment before realising he was right. If this had been before they'd be in the middle of an argument or he'd be walking out and slamming the door right about now. But Addison didn't have it in her anymore, not after what she'd done.
"I don't want to fight with you Derek," she told him softly, moving around the end of the bed to stand in front of him, a hand settling on his shoulder. "I'm sick of fighting. But I promise, I'm fine. Everything is fine," she continued, giving him a soft smile and leaning in closer, letting her body press between his spread thighs. "Don't worry okay?" she murmured, leaning down to press a heated kiss to his lips.
"Addison," Derek murmured into the kiss, even as his hands settled on her waist. He wanted to make sure everything truly was okay with her but he was also realising how long it had been since he'd had his wife this close to him and half naked to boot.
"I don't want to fight," Addison insisted between kisses as she trailed them over his jaw and down his neck.
He watched with hazy eyes as Addison lowered herself to her knees, her nimble hands unbuttoning his dress shirt in a flash and moving on quickly to his belt buckle. "Addie," he insisted, a hand settling over hers with a squeeze, intending for her to stop. But she pressed a wet kiss just above the hemline of his pants before looking up at him with a seductive smile.
"I want to. Let me," she whispered huskily, reaching a hand up to pull him into a passionate kiss.
Derek groaned into the kiss, skimming his hands up her sides and losing himself in the lust that had been threatening to overtake him. Addison made quick work of his belt and pants, pushing them down his thighs eagerly, her actions punctuated by kisses. All Derek could do was let her take the lead and as her mouth eagerly wrapped around him and he threaded his fingers through her hair; he forgot about the fact that he'd been worried about her.
