Colorblind
Title: Colorblind
Rating: PG
Summary: Oh, Derek. What are we going to do with you?
It really doesn’t bother you that Mark is still working at Seattle Grace. What you assumed would be a two-week stint has turned into some sort of actual move for the man who lived and breathed New York. He didn’t get chief, Washington does not exactly have a high demand for plastic surgery, and Addison apparently wants nothing to with him - but still, he sticks around. It really doesn’t bother you, because you’re with Meredith and you’re happy, and he’s nothing but a mere reminder of the life you used to have.
It really, really doesn’t bother you.
You’re over the whole thing. You don’t need him, you don’t care that he seems to be at every corner of the hospital flirting with some nurse or other, and you definitely don’t care that when he glances at you for a moment you don’t see the cocky asshole who fucked your wife, you see the kid who used to play football with you after school, who showed you how to skateboard, who silently sat next to you at your father’s funeral.
You definitely don’t care.
*
You don’t feel guilty kissing Meredith in front of Addison. At all.
It was just a quick peck goodbye - perfunctory, since you’d be seeing her once your shift was over. You touched your lips to hers and smiled as she walked into the parking lot. Then you turned and saw Addison walking out the doors of the hospital, with a trace of hurt flashing across her face before being replaced by a cool expression when she met your eyes.
Your lips feel like they’re stinging as you nod, “Addison.”
“Have a good night, Derek.” As she walks past you, head ducked, you get a whiff of Chanel. Along with the scent comes a flash of Egyptian cotton sheets, white wine on the veranda, laughter and red hair running through your fingers.
You tell yourself it’s not a big deal. You’re a doctor, and you know that smell is the strongest scent that conjures up memories.
It’s just science.
*
You are well-adjusted. This is not exactly how you imagined your life turning out, but you’re fine with it.
You once had the perfect city, the perfect house, the perfect wife, the perfect friends - and look how that turned out.
So maybe imperfection is a good thing. The trailer is cramped. Meredith wouldn’t swim. You’re not going to be chief. It always rains in Seattle. This is your new life, and it doesn’t bother you. At all.
“Hey, I’m back. Are you okay?” Meredith appears in the doorway of the trailer, soaking wet from the rain. “It’s pouring out there.”
You nod, as she shakes drops from her hair and gives you a hug.
You inhale the scent of her hair - lavender and the faint smell of hospital that never seems to subside.
You can feel Meredith’s bones through her frail back, but you’re not comparing.
*
It doesn’t bother you at all when you overhear the nurses gossiping that Mark and Addison are sleeping together again. Why should you care? You have a perfectly civil relationship with your ex-wife with no residual feelings, and as for your ex-best friend, well, you don’t care. You barely notice his existence.
Except it’s a little hard to ignore his existence when he walks into your surgery with lipstick on his scrub collar. Dark red on top of the bright blue material.
(Dark red, in a black Dior tube on the sink of the brownstone.)
You must have eaten something bad, because suddenly you taste bile in your mouth. You choke it down.
“What?” Mark smirks, and you realize that he knows you know.
You really don’t care, so you don’t take the bait.
“Are you scrubbing in or what?” you ask him sharply.
“Calm down, man. What, are you sexually frustrated or something?” He leans close to your ear. “Because I’m not.”
You glance down at the instrument table and seriously contemplate thrusting the scalpel into Mark’s throat, but Meredith softly calls your name from across the operating table and you realize that it would be a very, very bad idea to commit murder in your OR (although very gratifying).
Besides, you don’t actually care. Mark just rubs you the wrong way, that’s all it is.
And it’s not your fault that for the rest of the surgery, all you can picture is Mark and Addison in the on-call room, and it almost makes you lose the patient.
*
You finally give up and go see a shrink like Meredith’s been asking you to.
You don’t know why she’s so intent on it - you’re fine. You’re happy and you’re fine.
“I think you’re in denial,” the therapist tells you, and you roll your eyes.
“That’s ridiculous,” you say. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
She writes something down on her clipboard.
After the half-hour session you meet Meredith in the hallway and tell her that it was pointless. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.
“No, Derek, we’re not fine. Is this what happened with your marriage? Did you just go around pretending everything was okay?” she demands. “You walk away and hope the problems fix themselves?”
You storm out to the car before you say something you’ll regret.
*
You’re sitting at Joe’s that night, nursing a scotch, when she walks in.
She’s wearing a short black dress, hair swept up with tendrils framing her face, and you try really hard to ignore the increase in your heartbeat.
“Hey,” she says politely, nodding as she slides onto the barstool next to yours.
“Hi,” you reply. “You look great, Addie.”
“Thanks,” she says, and you wonder if she’s meeting Mark. “Did something happen with Meredith?”
“No,” you lie, “why?”
“Because I don’t know why else you’d be drinking by yourself on a Friday night.”
“Just felt like it.”
“Right.” She clearly decides to leave it at that.
You call Joe over and order a martini for her.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.
“It’s the least I could do,” you reply, staring into your scotch to avoid looking at her legs.
She’s your ex-wife. Satan. Adulterous sociopath who ruined your life.
She’s nothing to you now. Really. What a relief.
“Derek?” she asks softly, as if picking up your melancholy tone. “Are you happy now?”
You look at her face for some sign of sarcasm but find none. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
She nods, looking unconvinced. “Good. I hope you are.”
You’re glad the two of you can be honest with each other.
Suddenly Addison glances towards the door. “I, um, I’m meeting someone. So I’ll see you around, okay?”
You watch her gracefully slip off the stool and your gaze unconsciously travels to her bare left hand. “Okay. Have fun,” you force your voice to be polite.
You follow her form as she makes her way through the crowded bar to the door, where a familiar figure in a leather jacket is leaning against the wall.
Mark catches your eye and raises his hand as if to wave.
You quickly look away.
You don’t miss Mark, and you sure as hell don’t miss Addison.
You don’t care that the two people who’ve known you inside and out for most of your life are currently in some kind of fake relationship that is clearly destined for failure.
They’re both just twisted fuck-ups. You don’t need either of them.
You don’t miss having a best friend to sail in the Hamptons and go to Yankees games with.
And you definitely don’t miss having a wife who helped you study during residency exams and set up the tree to surprise you on Christmas and remembered the birthdays of every single one of your nieces and nephews.
No, you don’t miss Addison.
You don’t miss her at all.
Rating: PG
Summary: Oh, Derek. What are we going to do with you?
It really doesn’t bother you that Mark is still working at Seattle Grace. What you assumed would be a two-week stint has turned into some sort of actual move for the man who lived and breathed New York. He didn’t get chief, Washington does not exactly have a high demand for plastic surgery, and Addison apparently wants nothing to with him - but still, he sticks around. It really doesn’t bother you, because you’re with Meredith and you’re happy, and he’s nothing but a mere reminder of the life you used to have.
It really, really doesn’t bother you.
You’re over the whole thing. You don’t need him, you don’t care that he seems to be at every corner of the hospital flirting with some nurse or other, and you definitely don’t care that when he glances at you for a moment you don’t see the cocky asshole who fucked your wife, you see the kid who used to play football with you after school, who showed you how to skateboard, who silently sat next to you at your father’s funeral.
You definitely don’t care.
*
You don’t feel guilty kissing Meredith in front of Addison. At all.
It was just a quick peck goodbye - perfunctory, since you’d be seeing her once your shift was over. You touched your lips to hers and smiled as she walked into the parking lot. Then you turned and saw Addison walking out the doors of the hospital, with a trace of hurt flashing across her face before being replaced by a cool expression when she met your eyes.
Your lips feel like they’re stinging as you nod, “Addison.”
“Have a good night, Derek.” As she walks past you, head ducked, you get a whiff of Chanel. Along with the scent comes a flash of Egyptian cotton sheets, white wine on the veranda, laughter and red hair running through your fingers.
You tell yourself it’s not a big deal. You’re a doctor, and you know that smell is the strongest scent that conjures up memories.
It’s just science.
*
You are well-adjusted. This is not exactly how you imagined your life turning out, but you’re fine with it.
You once had the perfect city, the perfect house, the perfect wife, the perfect friends - and look how that turned out.
So maybe imperfection is a good thing. The trailer is cramped. Meredith wouldn’t swim. You’re not going to be chief. It always rains in Seattle. This is your new life, and it doesn’t bother you. At all.
“Hey, I’m back. Are you okay?” Meredith appears in the doorway of the trailer, soaking wet from the rain. “It’s pouring out there.”
You nod, as she shakes drops from her hair and gives you a hug.
You inhale the scent of her hair - lavender and the faint smell of hospital that never seems to subside.
You can feel Meredith’s bones through her frail back, but you’re not comparing.
*
It doesn’t bother you at all when you overhear the nurses gossiping that Mark and Addison are sleeping together again. Why should you care? You have a perfectly civil relationship with your ex-wife with no residual feelings, and as for your ex-best friend, well, you don’t care. You barely notice his existence.
Except it’s a little hard to ignore his existence when he walks into your surgery with lipstick on his scrub collar. Dark red on top of the bright blue material.
(Dark red, in a black Dior tube on the sink of the brownstone.)
You must have eaten something bad, because suddenly you taste bile in your mouth. You choke it down.
“What?” Mark smirks, and you realize that he knows you know.
You really don’t care, so you don’t take the bait.
“Are you scrubbing in or what?” you ask him sharply.
“Calm down, man. What, are you sexually frustrated or something?” He leans close to your ear. “Because I’m not.”
You glance down at the instrument table and seriously contemplate thrusting the scalpel into Mark’s throat, but Meredith softly calls your name from across the operating table and you realize that it would be a very, very bad idea to commit murder in your OR (although very gratifying).
Besides, you don’t actually care. Mark just rubs you the wrong way, that’s all it is.
And it’s not your fault that for the rest of the surgery, all you can picture is Mark and Addison in the on-call room, and it almost makes you lose the patient.
*
You finally give up and go see a shrink like Meredith’s been asking you to.
You don’t know why she’s so intent on it - you’re fine. You’re happy and you’re fine.
“I think you’re in denial,” the therapist tells you, and you roll your eyes.
“That’s ridiculous,” you say. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
She writes something down on her clipboard.
After the half-hour session you meet Meredith in the hallway and tell her that it was pointless. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.
“No, Derek, we’re not fine. Is this what happened with your marriage? Did you just go around pretending everything was okay?” she demands. “You walk away and hope the problems fix themselves?”
You storm out to the car before you say something you’ll regret.
*
You’re sitting at Joe’s that night, nursing a scotch, when she walks in.
She’s wearing a short black dress, hair swept up with tendrils framing her face, and you try really hard to ignore the increase in your heartbeat.
“Hey,” she says politely, nodding as she slides onto the barstool next to yours.
“Hi,” you reply. “You look great, Addie.”
“Thanks,” she says, and you wonder if she’s meeting Mark. “Did something happen with Meredith?”
“No,” you lie, “why?”
“Because I don’t know why else you’d be drinking by yourself on a Friday night.”
“Just felt like it.”
“Right.” She clearly decides to leave it at that.
You call Joe over and order a martini for her.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.
“It’s the least I could do,” you reply, staring into your scotch to avoid looking at her legs.
She’s your ex-wife. Satan. Adulterous sociopath who ruined your life.
She’s nothing to you now. Really. What a relief.
“Derek?” she asks softly, as if picking up your melancholy tone. “Are you happy now?”
You look at her face for some sign of sarcasm but find none. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
She nods, looking unconvinced. “Good. I hope you are.”
You’re glad the two of you can be honest with each other.
Suddenly Addison glances towards the door. “I, um, I’m meeting someone. So I’ll see you around, okay?”
You watch her gracefully slip off the stool and your gaze unconsciously travels to her bare left hand. “Okay. Have fun,” you force your voice to be polite.
You follow her form as she makes her way through the crowded bar to the door, where a familiar figure in a leather jacket is leaning against the wall.
Mark catches your eye and raises his hand as if to wave.
You quickly look away.
You don’t miss Mark, and you sure as hell don’t miss Addison.
You don’t care that the two people who’ve known you inside and out for most of your life are currently in some kind of fake relationship that is clearly destined for failure.
They’re both just twisted fuck-ups. You don’t need either of them.
You don’t miss having a best friend to sail in the Hamptons and go to Yankees games with.
And you definitely don’t miss having a wife who helped you study during residency exams and set up the tree to surprise you on Christmas and remembered the birthdays of every single one of your nieces and nephews.
No, you don’t miss Addison.
You don’t miss her at all.