HOMG IT'S ME!
Eve tempted Adam. Eve tempted Adam to sin, and then they got thrown out of Paradise. Adam was tempted. He gave in.
Adam was tempted, by Eve, Adam was tempted by Eve.
So. Addison kissed Mark. Addison kissed Mark, not the other way around, and no matter what happened, that was the way it was going to stay.
Addison was Eve, Derek was the serpent, adultery was the fruit, and Mark. Mark was Adam.
Somewhere along the line, a Bible story had gotten into the already screwed up mix.
Okay; so. Addison kissed Mark, once, before she’d ever been remotely attracted to Derek, but that was a friends kiss, an I’m-drunk-and-you’re-hot kiss, a forget-about-it-tomorrow-here-have-more-shitty-vodka kiss.
That was not this kiss. This was a flaming adulteress kiss, an I’m-drunk-but-that-doesn’t-matter kiss, a let’s-have-sex-and-damn-the-consequences kiss.
A kiss that Mark Sloan would have easily accepted, had it been from anyone besides Addison.
But, because fate hated people like Mark, she wasn’t, and he tensed, she stopped, and that was almost the end of it until she opened her mouth.
“Mark...” He looked at her, wide-eyed in shock. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it ever happened, I just. I’m sorry.” She put her hands over her face, exhaled angrily. “Thank you, Mark. For being here.” Still palming half her face, Addison reached out and pushed the half-empty bottle of vodka his way. “Here. Have some more shitty vodka.”
“Are you?” he asked, half-accusingly.
“Am I what?”
“Sorry. Are you sorry?”
“Mark, what are you-”
“Because it sounds to me,” he went on, half-horrified by the anger in his words, “like you’re willing to cheat on your husband with his best friend.”
“Mark, I-”
“Are you trying to send me to Hell?” He took the bottle and drank straight from it. “And I hate Popov,” he said, pulling a face after he’d swallowed.
“Then don’t drink it.” Addison sighed heavily. “I suck.”
“You do.”
“Hey, you know what? You don’t get to judge me like that.”
“But you just said-”
“No.” Addison pointed a wavering finger at him, turning the motion into a bid for the Popov. Mark leaned back possessively. “No, you don’t. You are not allowed to judge me when you get to manwhore yourself out the way you do, okay? I...I am a good wife, and a devoted one, and I try, I just...I just wish that sometimes I got some credit, okay? And it’s not something you would understand, Mark, so you’re not allowed to judge me.”
He glared at the bottle in his hand for a second before deciding to take another swig. “So what do you want me to do?” he asked loudly.
“Drink my shitty vodka. And um...don’t judge me.”
“Why?”
“Because nothing is better than waking up feeling like a cat has slept in your mouth,” Addison deadpanned.
Mark shrugged. “Why?”
“Because it’s your fault.”
“What’s my fault?”
“It’s your, your fault, okay? It’s your fault that I want credit, it’s your fault that I suck, it’s your fault that I’ll wake up tomorrow feeling like a cat has slept in my mouth. It’s your...stupid...fault,” Addison enunciated with her empty shot glass. “It’s your fault. And stop looking at me.”
Mark stared steadfastly at the bar top. “Look, can I just leave?”
“Can you even stand?”
He glared at her for a few seconds, and she burst out laughing. “Oh great,” Mark muttered.
“God, I’m so drunk.”
“Lightweight.”
“God, I’m...” she reached out and took his free hand. “I really am sorry.” He resumed looking at her, and she giggled some more. “I dunno, I just...I’m so damn drunk.”
He repeated, “Lightweight.”
“Shut up.” And Addison kissed him again, and even if it was his fault, even if she was drunk, even if Popov was the bane of all existence, Mark kissed her back.
He was going to Hell anyway.
“God, what are we doing?” she mumbled against his mouth. “God, I can barely feel my lips.”
And he kissed her again, and again, and again, trying to get her to feel again, because he was suddenly afraid that she would always be this numb.
“No more God,” he whispered back, hands shaking at the hem of her shirt. “Just me.”
“Mark, help me,” Addison said, barely conscious of the fact that she was asking him for help, a paradox of too many things.
And because he didn’t know how to help, he tried everything he knew.
Some people say that Adam tasted the fruit, like Mark trailing his mouth down Addison’s throat, because Adam was tempted by Eve.
But Milton said that Adam consciously followed Eve to damnation, like Mark followed Addison to her bedroom, because Adam loved her.
Feedback makes my life.
x-posted to my FFN account.
Adam was tempted, by Eve, Adam was tempted by Eve.
So. Addison kissed Mark. Addison kissed Mark, not the other way around, and no matter what happened, that was the way it was going to stay.
Addison was Eve, Derek was the serpent, adultery was the fruit, and Mark. Mark was Adam.
Somewhere along the line, a Bible story had gotten into the already screwed up mix.
Okay; so. Addison kissed Mark, once, before she’d ever been remotely attracted to Derek, but that was a friends kiss, an I’m-drunk-and-you’re-hot kiss, a forget-about-it-tomorrow-here-have-more-shitty-vodka kiss.
That was not this kiss. This was a flaming adulteress kiss, an I’m-drunk-but-that-doesn’t-matter kiss, a let’s-have-sex-and-damn-the-consequences kiss.
A kiss that Mark Sloan would have easily accepted, had it been from anyone besides Addison.
But, because fate hated people like Mark, she wasn’t, and he tensed, she stopped, and that was almost the end of it until she opened her mouth.
“Mark...” He looked at her, wide-eyed in shock. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it ever happened, I just. I’m sorry.” She put her hands over her face, exhaled angrily. “Thank you, Mark. For being here.” Still palming half her face, Addison reached out and pushed the half-empty bottle of vodka his way. “Here. Have some more shitty vodka.”
“Are you?” he asked, half-accusingly.
“Am I what?”
“Sorry. Are you sorry?”
“Mark, what are you-”
“Because it sounds to me,” he went on, half-horrified by the anger in his words, “like you’re willing to cheat on your husband with his best friend.”
“Mark, I-”
“Are you trying to send me to Hell?” He took the bottle and drank straight from it. “And I hate Popov,” he said, pulling a face after he’d swallowed.
“Then don’t drink it.” Addison sighed heavily. “I suck.”
“You do.”
“Hey, you know what? You don’t get to judge me like that.”
“But you just said-”
“No.” Addison pointed a wavering finger at him, turning the motion into a bid for the Popov. Mark leaned back possessively. “No, you don’t. You are not allowed to judge me when you get to manwhore yourself out the way you do, okay? I...I am a good wife, and a devoted one, and I try, I just...I just wish that sometimes I got some credit, okay? And it’s not something you would understand, Mark, so you’re not allowed to judge me.”
He glared at the bottle in his hand for a second before deciding to take another swig. “So what do you want me to do?” he asked loudly.
“Drink my shitty vodka. And um...don’t judge me.”
“Why?”
“Because nothing is better than waking up feeling like a cat has slept in your mouth,” Addison deadpanned.
Mark shrugged. “Why?”
“Because it’s your fault.”
“What’s my fault?”
“It’s your, your fault, okay? It’s your fault that I want credit, it’s your fault that I suck, it’s your fault that I’ll wake up tomorrow feeling like a cat has slept in my mouth. It’s your...stupid...fault,” Addison enunciated with her empty shot glass. “It’s your fault. And stop looking at me.”
Mark stared steadfastly at the bar top. “Look, can I just leave?”
“Can you even stand?”
He glared at her for a few seconds, and she burst out laughing. “Oh great,” Mark muttered.
“God, I’m so drunk.”
“Lightweight.”
“God, I’m...” she reached out and took his free hand. “I really am sorry.” He resumed looking at her, and she giggled some more. “I dunno, I just...I’m so damn drunk.”
He repeated, “Lightweight.”
“Shut up.” And Addison kissed him again, and even if it was his fault, even if she was drunk, even if Popov was the bane of all existence, Mark kissed her back.
He was going to Hell anyway.
“God, what are we doing?” she mumbled against his mouth. “God, I can barely feel my lips.”
And he kissed her again, and again, and again, trying to get her to feel again, because he was suddenly afraid that she would always be this numb.
“No more God,” he whispered back, hands shaking at the hem of her shirt. “Just me.”
“Mark, help me,” Addison said, barely conscious of the fact that she was asking him for help, a paradox of too many things.
And because he didn’t know how to help, he tried everything he knew.
Some people say that Adam tasted the fruit, like Mark trailing his mouth down Addison’s throat, because Adam was tempted by Eve.
But Milton said that Adam consciously followed Eve to damnation, like Mark followed Addison to her bedroom, because Adam loved her.
Feedback makes my life.
x-posted to my FFN account.