I do Not Protest
Title: I Do Not Protest
Rating: NC-17; graphic language; graphic situations.
Pairing: M.Grey/A.Montgomery(Shepherd).
Summary: Confrontations=fights. Fights=being sent home early. Being sent home early=kissing Addison? Kissing Addison/Meredith= Realizing you've needed this all along.
A/N 2010: Totally... random thing I found written in 2008.
I do not protest when Izzie and Cristina leave the cafeteria bickering about how much morphine it will take to kill the three year old boy in ICU. I do not protest when George comes in to wail about his Callie woes and then rushes back out, not listening to a word I have to say. I do not protest when I see a halted Alex, turned off by all of the drama that surrounds him, spin on his heels and leave. I do not protest when Derek shoots me a wave with his hand wrapped around an apple before darting away from me to eat in seclusion. I'm left alone, and I'm okay with this. I pick over my sandwich, tearing off the crusts meticulously like I'm peeling back the skin of a cadaver to examine its cold entrails. Before taking another bite I survey the dry sandwich with disdain and push it aside. I wish work would leave me for a moment.
That's the thing about being an intern. Work never leaves you. It haunts you. Walking down the street you see a guy limping around. It makes you want to shout out a diagnosis based on the way he's turning his hips and the way he's putting his weight on his heel; or his toes; or the side of his foot. The words lurch out of your mouth, glancing around to make sure that you are the first of your intern-class to be correct in your observation, and then realize you are alone. Sleep never comes, your nails are broken to the cuticle, and when it comes time to pick out new shoes, you wonder which ones will be the most complementary to your scrubs.
Work doesn't leave your personal life either. I'm the poster-child for that. Derek and I, well...we're never going to sort our baggage out. And so, I'm always going to piss off someone. Whether it is Cristina, Izzie, George, Alex, or...
Addison?
I don't notice that she's staring from her table across the cafeteria, glancing over her glasses with that--way she has. One of her salon-shaped eyebrows raise and she offers me a small wave (barely). The other hand is over her mouth while it works around whatever's in there. Knowing Addison it's probably something chocolate, since she swears by it.
And, we're back at my sandwich. I don't remember if I wave back or not. But, I can't help my stare. She's reading a magazine, popping chocolate-y goodies into her mouth and chuckling to herself. Whatever bitterness she harbors toward me is hidden with some efforts of tact, or so I think. Mine is fizzled down and kept in check so much that I can barely look at her for long. My sandwich becomes the most interesting thing in my life. If I just focus on it long enough for her to...
"Meredith," She chews my name and spits it right out, "it’s a rarity to see you without the insane intern posse." She's smiling so the apples of her cheeks are pushed up, aiding in the sparkle of her slate-blue eyes.
"Yeah," I manage, stuffing the crusts of my sandwich into my mouth and chewing on the tasteless mass inside my cheeks.
She quirks up that eyebrow again and I wonder if she even knows she does it or if it’s just powered by a spring under there. She folds her arms. "Everything alright, Grey?" Her tone is questioning, but lacks concern and so I shrug again. I don't want to talk about Derek, again. I can barely form words that make any rational sense. I am a dirty mistress. I am in the club. My 'damn' panties tacked to the cork-board made me realize that I am the president. I know she hates my guts. I know she wishes I would disappear off of the face of this earth. So that's why I'm so surprised when she takes the seat across from me.
"Anything good up there?" Addison's gesturing that fiery over-done red head of hers toward the main food lines.
I shake my head, no. "The usual..." I'm tired all of a sudden. I just want to go to sleep. And sleep. And sleep.
"Hm...Glad I brought my Raisinettes" She waves the circus-yellow bag around like it's manna from heaven. I give her what I think is a smile.
"Look, Meredith..." She pops another one of the chocolate-raisins into her mouth and then chews it over. "I don't want you to think I hate you..."
Oh, no. Not here, not now. Where's my pager? Is it beeping? No, of course not. I check the time; still have ten minutes left in my lunch break, enough time for Addison to chew me out. I cover my eyes with my hands and wonder if she's still sitting there. When I take them away, she is. And... I'm sighing.
"I don't." Lies. "I just figured it might be a little...awkward...you don't have to do this, Addison."
That's when it happens. That venomous little smile. The kind that makes you recoil right in your seat and force the contents of your stomach to wonder if they've made the right choice in settling there. Maybe they'd be better off all over the table, leaving you hunched over and churning and begging for mercy.
"Oh, but I do..." Another chocolate-raisin is popped into her mouth. Those pearly whites don't even waste the time to chew it. She just swallows it. Like a snake. "I need to tell you that I don't hate you, Meredith Grey. No, I don't." She chuckles and takes the glasses from her face, tucking them away into the pocket of her white coat. "I despise you. I loathe you. I think you are nothing. You are a whore. You bring shame to the entire hospital community, Meredith Grey." She keeps saying my full name, and it's making me glad she doesn't also know my middle. "But, I'm sure you know all about whores, I mean...look at your mother." Her tone remains calm. Eerily calm. She really outdid herself now.
I sat there, for all of it. Taking it like her whipping boy. I sat there as she called me a whore; it was an old insult. I sat there as she told me she hated me; I'd known. But when she brought my mother into the equation, I couldn't stop myself from lunging at her from my side of the table.
Raisinettes went flying and sprinkling over the floor in a chocolate shower as my hands made their way around her neck. We hit the floor hard enough to dent it as far as I’m concerned. Her face was wild with rage and I imagined mine was similar. She worked on clawing at my arms. I tried to collapse her windpipe. We writhed on the dirty linoleum for a few extra seconds, battling for dominance. She spun me over on my back and I cracked my head hard off the tile. Her teeth were clenched. Her hands were cold. She was trying to suffocate me with her hands while I continued to wring her neck. I was gasping for air when we both heard that voice and stopped cold.
"YOU have two seconds to get up and offa each other before I come over there and give you the beating you failed to give each other." It was Bailey and she was pissed. My head dropped to look at my shoes. My nose was bleeding. I didn't have to see her to know she was standing with both fists at her hips. Such a small woman was so domineering that both Addison and I shot up, each trying to smooth down our hair in succession.
"Chief's office--NOW!" She spat. Her face was serious and her eyes were wide and I left my turkey sandwich to rot.
---
Chief Webber leans his back on his desk with his arms folded against the pristine white of the coat on his chest. We sit before him in two chairs. He gives both of us a hard glare and I'm suddenly glad for my ability to disappear in my own head. I'm trying to count the salt and pepper flecks throughout his hair and beard. Addison has her hands wringing in her lap. I take it she's never been to the principal's office. I have, so I sit and let the punishment roll. I feel so foolish with the wad of cotton up my right nostril, clotting the nose bleed that Addison gave me.
"Do either of you have any...IDEA of what you are doing? I mean, really! I--I'm dumbfounded. I'm outraged... Addison, I expected more of you. You are to be an influence to our interns, not a source of violence!" He's pacing. "And Meredith! I could wipe you out of this hospital faster than you can say 'boo'."Boo
"Sir, Meredith hit me first..." Addison says matter-of-factly. I would've hated her in nursery school.
"Is this true Grey?" He asks; heat off of Red for a moment and onto me.
"I never hit her, sir..." I was honest. I just lunged at her like a crazy person hungry for flesh and thirsty for blood. I bet his tune would change if I told him why I did act so rashly.
"Oh, bullsh--"
"Addison!" He shouts. "Now, whatever the hell happened out there, you two need to cool the hell off. Do you want me to call for a psychiatric evaluation of the two of you?" His tone is threatening.
"No!" We say in unison, then whip around to look at each other and glare. She must be pretty satisfied with herself. Forcing me to anger like that. I bet she thinks she's queen of the world.
"Now, you two are dismissed. Go home and think about your foolish behavior. I should suspend the two of you without pay, but we're short staffed as it is." He wipes a hand over his mouth. "Honestly, I don't know what to say...I'm severely disappointed...and if this ever, EVER happens again...ohhh..." He shakes his head and walks out the door, sure to slam it on the way out. I flinch. Addison grins that putrid, evil grin once more.
"After you, Doctor Grey..." Addison says from the chair closest to the door. I slowly get up from mine and begin to tread lightly.
I expect her to trip me or reach out and sucker punch me in the gut, but, she doesn't. I pass scott-free. She's right behind me. I can hear her angered breathing. As I leave the chief's office I see Bailey leaning against the opposing wall, arms folded in front of her. She shakes her head at me, but looks to Addison and opens her mouth to speak.
"Uh-uh...not so fast. Before you go, I need you to sign off on Miss Williams for discharge..." Addison nods soundlessly and follows after Bailey who's striding in front of her. I can hear her all the way to the lockers. "Honestly...scrappin' in the cafeteria! In front of doctors! In front of patients' families! The nerve!"
----
Miranda Bailey is a no-nonsense kinda gal and that's what I like about her, except for when I'm the nonsense she has no tolerance with. As we make our way to the Neo-Natal unit, she's cursing me, and Meredith, underneath her breath, but mostly out loud. I feel so stupid for letting her get to me that way and I'm seething too much to take Bailey's insults to heart. She hands me a chart which I quickly sign off on. "Remind her to take her pre-natal vitamins, and tell her I'll see her in two weeks." I add, and Bailey nods, taking it in.
"We'll see, you might be missin' an eye after another round with Meredith Grey," She huffs, pushes her way through the double doors deeper into the unit, and leaves me in the middle of the hall way.
I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. I hope I don't run into anyone. The gossip in this hospital spreads faster than forest fires. I didn't need the petty whispering in front of my face nonsense. And frankly, I probably would fight them, too. I did a lot of that lately. I cursed myself for being so confrontational. I cursed Meredith for being so...Meredith. The way she sat there and took the Chief's harshness as if she wasn't even listening. Probably not. The freak.
What the hell does he see in her?
"What, Doctor?" One of the nurses say to me and I groan, pushing past her to make it to the lockers. I still use the same one I did as an intern. I find it safe.
As I open the dimly-lit room door, I notice that it's relatively silent, and I'm glad for that. I sigh and shrug out of my coat. I make my way to my locker and quickly try for the combination. Damnit. I try again. Success. I'm stuffing my things in there with no real order and grabbing my bag, keys, and the coffee mug I'd brought in today. When I close it again; slam it, actually, Meredith is standing in its place to my left.
"What?" I say. "Please move, I'm leaving." I turn to pivot around her.
"Addison, wait..." She sounds petulant and I'm grinning at her again. Through my teeth. I want to bury her.
"What? What Grey? What? You're sorry? I don't want to hear it. Just leave me and my husband the... fuck... alone, okay?" The word husband feels strange on my tongue. I want to spit it out. I figure this is easier enough for her to understand. But her face screws up. She's at a loss for words.
And that's when she does it. When she reaches up and pulls my mouth to hers.
I am kissing Meredith Grey.
----
People are creative. People are ruthless. People are smart. And people are mostly conniving. I chose to be a combination of the list. I needed Addison's attention so I kissed her. The result was less than what I expected. She slammed me, hard, up against the lockers. I thought she might eat my entire face off in a moment. She drops her bag, her mug. It shatters.
"Who do you think you are, Grey? Hm?" She's pushing my shoulder so that it bounces off the metal with repeated bangs. "I mean really, who?"
"I just...I needed your attention!" I say, realizing just how tall she is. She dwarfs me with her imposing, Amazonian figure. I'm trying not to lose my resolve. "I'm SORRY!" I am shouting at her and she stops. She stops hitting my shoulder off the locker and just stares. Her eyes, so blue, look like they're hazed over and ready to storm.
Her hair, probably once-done today with elaborate curlers is now lying flat against her, coming around past her shoulders in an enviable shade of red. She's wearing a black blouse and a black skirt visible without her white coat and her toupe-colored tights have a runner up the side. My eyes find her shoes. I quietly wonder how she managed to wrestle me in heels like those.
Her face, once full of resolve, with elaborate intent to break me is now blank. Her lower lip is trembling and the small scrap of lipstick she was wearing is now smeared, against one side of her mouth. My fault. I watch as the tears begin to leak out of those wide eyes.
"Sorry?" She asks, mouth full of tears. "Sorry?" She chokes and then begins to sob. She's sobbing so hard that her forehead is resting against the locker. I feel awkward and huge, no longer dwarfed by this woman. I realize she’s shattered.
Very slowly I put a hand on her shoulder, very slowly her form moves to lean against me. Deep down she knows. She knows that Derek is hardly a perfect suitor for her. Deep down she knows she was just waiting for him to make this final folly before she could leave him with a reason. Deep down she feels free.
A funny thing happened then, I felt sorry for Addison, and I loathed Derek. I wanted to slap him for treating her this way. Addison. Who could cheat on Addison? She was so pretty, and smart, and bubbly. All of the things I was not. I was mostly hidden, bookish, and cloistered. On any other circumstance I would've probably taken her out for drinks to man-hate and peruse for other men. But now, I was helpless to her, to me. I didn't know what to do.
I held her.
----
I had to know. I had to. I wondered what would possess him to do this to me. To us. I raised my hand and she shuts her eyes tightly. Something sick inside of me enjoys watching her squirm. I use the hand she thought would slap her to cup her cheek. I bend down. She's staring at me. Though, I'm surprised she can see beneath those ridiculous bangs. I kiss her. Again. Letting myself go. I'm crying again, into her mouth. I’m unraveling. I’m scared, scared because I no longer care. No longer did I care what Derek Shepherd thinks. I was doing this, on my own, without him nagging my brain. I was doing this. I wanted to. I wanted to kiss Meredith.
At first she doesn't move, but soon warms up to me. Her hands reach out to grasp my arms, feeling for biceps that a man would have. When the feeling is less toned and more lean, she moves her hands to my waist. I remember kissing a girl in medical school. It was nothing like this. Meredith was softer, more inviting. Her tongue slides into my mouth. I rip myself away, gather my things, and walk out the door.
I pretend not to hear her scream.
----
I scream, so loudly that Izzie comes rushing into the lockers. She looks frantic and sleepless. Like everyone else in this God-forsaken place.
"What happened? Did she hit you? I heard about the fight. Are you okay? Did you really break her nose?" Izzie's eyes are wild and the tone in her voice reminds me of middle school drama.
I smirk at the hospital gossip and its inaccuracy. I shake my head, zip my jacket, and move past her.
"Meredith?" She asks.
"I'm going home..." I wave her off.
----
I don't know what possessed me to kiss that woman and enjoy it. I don't know what possessed me to sit and think about it for two hours over a bottle of wine. I don't know what possessed me to eat ice cream out of the container as I cried. I don't know what possessed me to call the taxi. I don't know what possessed me to ride halfway across town. I don't know what possessed me to ring the doorbell. I don't know what possessed me to ask O'Malley to let me in.
"Doc...doctor Montgo-Shep...Addison!" He says, standing in the doorway, looking dumbfounded at my presence. "Look, Meredith's...not here...we don't want anymore trouble from you." He sticks out his chest, acting like the confident older brother. I shake my head at him. He tries so hard.
"I just would like to talk to Meredith." I say, eyes roaming past him. I’ve been thinking about her for hours and I want to know if she’s doing the same. I want to know what she thinks. I just want to be near her. I see Izzie gaping at me over a Styrofoam container of take-out. Cristina slowly follows, looking genuinely damaging. George looks back to the rest of the pack and they nod to him.
"Let her in, George..." Izzie says through mouthfuls of some sort of pasta. I step into the hall way. I'm wearing what I wore to work and feel highly overdressed amongst the pajama-clad interns.
Cristina steps forward. "You hurt her. I hurt you." She pauses and gestures toward the stairs. I know she is serious. "Third door on your left."
I climb toward my demise.
---
When I hear the knock at my door, I instinctively say "go away..." I'm too busy wallowing in self-pity to entertain company. I sip from the large forty-ounce beer that Cristina picked up from me at the convenience store. I hate beer, but she refused to get me another bottle of tequila, and besides it's numbing me just fine. I've drunk a good eighteen ounces of it and wonder how much further I can go without vomiting.
At the next knock I'm sure it's George. He's probably going to try to bribe me with Chinese again.
"George, I mean--"
"Meredith!" I hear the voice, but it cannot be true. She's harassing me at home now? She opens the door. I can’t stop my heart from hammering in excitement.
Standing in a long, tan trench coat and those same ripped stockings and shoes is Addison. She looks ruffled. Her make up is smeared beneath her eyes. I sit up on the bed. I feel grossly under-dressed. I'm wearing flannel pajama pants and a sports bra. I felt like being in the dark place, and I needed the proper attire for it. Luckily, I didn't wear make up because it would be all over my face, streaking down my cheeks from my onslaught of crying all day. I set my beer on the table beside my bed. She takes off her coat, still in the same blouse and skirt.
I pat a spot at the end of the bed in the tousled covers and she complies, taking an awkward seat. She could probably burn holes through me with that gaze. She wets her lips, and then speaks to me.
"I'm not sorry." Is all she says.
"For bloodying my nose?" I ask. "Or trying to kill me?"
"For anything. For anything I said." Her gaze is still attached to my eyes.
"Oh," I remark, picking up my beer again. The monstrosity. I drink some of it and grimace.
"Or...for kissing you." I stop, everything. I don't want to look at her, but I do. Her face fixed on mine now. I move closer to her. I want to see her face when I tell her off.
"Oh, of course you aren't, Addison. You're too busy walking around with your fountains of wisdom about what makes people whores to worry about that. You're too busy persecuting me...when...when you know damn well you've never been happy with him! You've just been looking for an excuse to cut yourself free!" I'm crying. "I'm not happy either." I explode, panting.
She's crying again. The woman could rival me with all of the tears she's shed in my presence. This time, it's quiet sobs that shake her entire form. I move closer and wrap a tentative arm around her. She cries brazenly against my chest, staining it. I feel the tears at the straps of my sports bra. I cry into her hair.
I do not protest when she wraps her arms around me in response. I do not protest when she begins pounding my back with her fists. I do not protest when she kisses the side of my neck. I do not protest when she throws me on my back. I do not protest when she takes her shoes off. I do not protest watching her remove her shirt button-by-button. I do not protest her sliding her skirt and stockings down her legs. I do not protest when she kisses me with a hunger I have yet to experience.
----
Meredith's words resound in my head as I kiss the life out of her. She's experienced, tongue sliding out to taste my lips. I let her in. I don't want to, but I do. I pin her hands above her head. She smells like beer. I smell like wine. I know this, she knows this, I'm sure of it. I've never slept with a woman before, especially not my husband's mistress. I see why he touches her. I see why he fucks her. I see why I want her. I'm diving into the side of her neck, kissing it, biting it, sucking it. I hope it leaves a mark that she has to explain to her friends tomorrow. I hope she feels it for days to come. I want her to feel me.
I can hear her hiccupping sobs as I bite her neck again. I know I'm not hurting her. She's fighting in her head. I let go of her hands. She grabs my head, pulling me by the hair back to her mouth. Her mouth tastes like tears and beer. Her tongue examines me skillfully. I press against hers in an almost rebellious fashion. She fights me. She fights me like she did in the hospital. I pull her sports bra up, exposing her breasts. My hands cover them as I shake, nervously. I pinch one of her nipples and she moans out my name. She’s so small beneath my hands.
"Addison..." It's pleadingly uncertain. She's undone my bra with one hand. I wonder if she's done this before.
I grab her hair, bunching it in my fist; those dirty blonde locks were so impossibly soft. "Say it, again..." I grit through clenched teeth, watching her eyes roll back in her head.
"Addison..." She sounds like a tamer version of every lover I've ever had. And yet, so much…hotter.
I collapse against her and bite her earlobe. "Again..."
"Addison..."
I could've come right there.
---
"Addison..." I say again, watching the reaction I'm eliciting. I like it.
Despite the gender, sex is all the same. It's about giving and taking. It's about pushing and pulling. It's about feeling. It's about contact. It's about sweat and grit and sometimes blood. Tears. Passion. Compassion. In this case; curiosity, lust, carnal desire, and need. Need to fill the gaping void in the other.
I squeeze her breasts, pushing and rolling her nipples with a reverence to her lithe body. I no longer felt short underneath her. We were eye level as she lifted her chest off of me to give me better access. She's panting. Her physique is enviable-- smooth and toned, perfect. Her head is tipping back and that hair is spilling over her pale shoulders and back some. I squeeze her breasts and lean forward to take a nipple into my mouth. I bite it. She pushes me back down on the bed, chest rising and falling in heaves.
I get a glimpse at her choice of undergarments and feel my face grow hot. I couldn't believe she wore such a sexy pair of underwear to work. They were lacy and red, cupping each butt cheek in the most sinfully complementary way. I reached down to pull them off of her and she grabs my wrists, pinning them against the bed again. Clearly, this night was going to be Addison's way of showing me who was boss. And frankly, at this point, I did not care to protest.
She claws my pants and underwear off, leaving angry red marks over my hips and stomach. She gets me naked though. She's staring at me. I close my eyes so she can move through me as she pleases. When I open them she's still staring at me. I look anywhere but her eyes until she grabs my chin, forcing me to look at her. The other hand has abandoned my still-captive wrist and is heading for the apex in between my thighs.
When she touches me I think I will start crying again.
----
Meredith is wet. Wetter than I've ever felt myself to be. I assumed it was from all the roughhousing. She looks like she's about to cry again, and I put my knowledge of a woman’s anatomy to good use. Two fingers slip inside of her, beginning the mounting of pleasure. I finger-fuck her hard. Hard enough to physically move her. Harder than I've ever done to myself. Hard enough so that the heel of my palm is slapping against the woman's clit. She's all but screaming and I know her roommates are perched outside the door to listen in. I slide another finger inside of the woman at my mercy.
Let's give them something to listen to...
----
When I feel Addison's fingers disappear inside of me I figure I must've gotten drunk and blacked out and was now having a confusing dream. Very confusing. It wasn't until I felt her grab my chin again and warn me to look at her that I knew I wasn't dreaming. She's fucking me. Addison Montgomery-Shepherd is fucking me. I groaned. I watched the face of the woman on top; it’s so concentrated, so serene. I’ve seen it before. I writhed. Addison had a wonderful idea of how to please me. I pleaded. A woman. I wondered if she'd done this before. I cried out. I know I will feel this tomorrow. I know I will feel this for days.
When I come, I'm screaming into the sports bra balled in my hand. She's grinning at me, not ceasing her hand as I spasm around her fingers.
Fuck you, Addison.
"What was that?" She smiles coyly. She's anything BUT coy.
I wordlessly reply to her, gathering all of my strength and pushing her over, getting her out of me. She goes with little protest. I nearly tear off the underwear she is wearing, tossing them over my shoulder as my head dips down to show her up.
----
It's quite a show when Meredith comes. I've never heard a woman other than myself come. And then it’s usually hushed and restrained, mostly a necessity. Hers is delicate and fluttery, but throaty as well. It dizzied me; it allowed her to gain the upper hand, something I didn't want her to have. As she pushes me onto my back I struggle for control. Two hands are at my hips as she kneels between my knees, holding me down. I'm wiggling. I'm trying. Meredith bites my thigh. I know she's done this before. Either that or she was a very good faker. Or just good at having sex. She seemed to have a lot of it.
When her mouth comes in contact with my desire, I cry out. I could feel through her probing tongue just how...aroused I'd become. Sopping, was more like it. Meredith wordlessly slung both of my legs over her shoulders and devoured me. She licked my clitoris with a skill I'm sure she had to have picked up. Her fingers make headway inside of me while her tongue does its own dance around me. I'm pulling her hair, scratching her back. But she does not stop. She does not even falter. Her eyes flick up to look at me and I'm short of breath.
When I come, I'm screaming out my profession to a God who is probably confused to why I'm also calling him Meredith.
Unlike me, Meredith stops when she knows I've finished. She rests her head against my thigh and stares away from me. I pull her up into my lap. She fits in it effortlessly, and nakedly. I kiss her, tentatively at first and then fully. I slide my tongue past her lips. I taste myself so strongly that I'm not sure what to make of it. Meredith's shaking so hard that she has to settle her hand at my shoulders. When the kiss is broken, I lay my head on her shoulder and cry, and cry, and cry. She holds me. I've never felt more comforted. Or whole.
----
At the end of the day, all we want to do is be close to somebody. Whether that somebody is our colleague's husband, or our colleague’s wife. We yearn for the closeness of another human body, for someone who will help us fill the empty space in our beds. I held Addison as she cried against my chest. Tucked her in as she fell asleep in a puddle of her own tears. I lay there, in the dark, with her in my arms. She was tall. I was not. She was smart. I was not. She was breathtaking. I was not. I sighed as I repeatedly kissed her head. She had cried so hard that her breath rifted even in sleep.
I tried to close my eyes to sleep but instead was faced with searing images at the back of my eyelids. Hours pass as I lay like this, unable to move in fear of waking Addison. It is then she stirs and wakes, eyes adjusting to a room she has never been in. She reaches up to touch my face. I kiss her thumb. She smiles. I'm startled at the sight. Her hair is an absolute mess, but she’s…beautiful. I can only imagine what mine looks like.
"Meredith?" She questions.
"Yeah?" I smooth over one of her wickedly-arched eyebrows.
"Please don't leave me..." Her voice is cracked from crying.
"I won't." I nod in promise.
----
It is weeks later when I know that Meredith is good at keeping her word. As she pushes me up against the closed door of the on-call room and reaches up my skirt to finger me into a lazy three-am orgasm, I know that she will not leave my side. As I release for her, I hold her to me. She kisses me so tenderly all over my face that I'm sure I will break. That I will melt underneath the door into a puddle of my former self. I thought this for the weeks to come, each time we met in those rooms. And each time we had the same conversation.
"Addie?" She asks, lips pressed against my temple.
"Yeah, Meredith?" I inhale her scent; Ivory Soap and Pantene Pro-V.
"Please don't leave me..."
"I won't..." I kiss her forehead.
----
I do not protest when Derek threatens to sue me, or kill me. I do not protest when Izzie begs me for all the juicy details. I do not protest when Cristina smiles at me on her way to bed. I do not protest when George and Alex ask me embarrassing questions about sleeping with women. I do not protest when I wait outside Derek’s trailer for Addison, listening to the shouts behind the aluminum walls. I do not protest as we unload her suitcases full of pretty, pretty things into my bedroom. I do not protest when she begs me to pitch in on rent. I do not protest her picking out new curtains for the kitchen. I do not protest when she whispers "I love you" into the shadows of our bedroom.
Rating: NC-17; graphic language; graphic situations.
Pairing: M.Grey/A.Montgomery(Shepherd).
Summary: Confrontations=fights. Fights=being sent home early. Being sent home early=kissing Addison? Kissing Addison/Meredith= Realizing you've needed this all along.
A/N 2010: Totally... random thing I found written in 2008.
I do not protest when Izzie and Cristina leave the cafeteria bickering about how much morphine it will take to kill the three year old boy in ICU. I do not protest when George comes in to wail about his Callie woes and then rushes back out, not listening to a word I have to say. I do not protest when I see a halted Alex, turned off by all of the drama that surrounds him, spin on his heels and leave. I do not protest when Derek shoots me a wave with his hand wrapped around an apple before darting away from me to eat in seclusion. I'm left alone, and I'm okay with this. I pick over my sandwich, tearing off the crusts meticulously like I'm peeling back the skin of a cadaver to examine its cold entrails. Before taking another bite I survey the dry sandwich with disdain and push it aside. I wish work would leave me for a moment.
That's the thing about being an intern. Work never leaves you. It haunts you. Walking down the street you see a guy limping around. It makes you want to shout out a diagnosis based on the way he's turning his hips and the way he's putting his weight on his heel; or his toes; or the side of his foot. The words lurch out of your mouth, glancing around to make sure that you are the first of your intern-class to be correct in your observation, and then realize you are alone. Sleep never comes, your nails are broken to the cuticle, and when it comes time to pick out new shoes, you wonder which ones will be the most complementary to your scrubs.
Work doesn't leave your personal life either. I'm the poster-child for that. Derek and I, well...we're never going to sort our baggage out. And so, I'm always going to piss off someone. Whether it is Cristina, Izzie, George, Alex, or...
Addison?
I don't notice that she's staring from her table across the cafeteria, glancing over her glasses with that--way she has. One of her salon-shaped eyebrows raise and she offers me a small wave (barely). The other hand is over her mouth while it works around whatever's in there. Knowing Addison it's probably something chocolate, since she swears by it.
And, we're back at my sandwich. I don't remember if I wave back or not. But, I can't help my stare. She's reading a magazine, popping chocolate-y goodies into her mouth and chuckling to herself. Whatever bitterness she harbors toward me is hidden with some efforts of tact, or so I think. Mine is fizzled down and kept in check so much that I can barely look at her for long. My sandwich becomes the most interesting thing in my life. If I just focus on it long enough for her to...
"Meredith," She chews my name and spits it right out, "it’s a rarity to see you without the insane intern posse." She's smiling so the apples of her cheeks are pushed up, aiding in the sparkle of her slate-blue eyes.
"Yeah," I manage, stuffing the crusts of my sandwich into my mouth and chewing on the tasteless mass inside my cheeks.
She quirks up that eyebrow again and I wonder if she even knows she does it or if it’s just powered by a spring under there. She folds her arms. "Everything alright, Grey?" Her tone is questioning, but lacks concern and so I shrug again. I don't want to talk about Derek, again. I can barely form words that make any rational sense. I am a dirty mistress. I am in the club. My 'damn' panties tacked to the cork-board made me realize that I am the president. I know she hates my guts. I know she wishes I would disappear off of the face of this earth. So that's why I'm so surprised when she takes the seat across from me.
"Anything good up there?" Addison's gesturing that fiery over-done red head of hers toward the main food lines.
I shake my head, no. "The usual..." I'm tired all of a sudden. I just want to go to sleep. And sleep. And sleep.
"Hm...Glad I brought my Raisinettes" She waves the circus-yellow bag around like it's manna from heaven. I give her what I think is a smile.
"Look, Meredith..." She pops another one of the chocolate-raisins into her mouth and then chews it over. "I don't want you to think I hate you..."
Oh, no. Not here, not now. Where's my pager? Is it beeping? No, of course not. I check the time; still have ten minutes left in my lunch break, enough time for Addison to chew me out. I cover my eyes with my hands and wonder if she's still sitting there. When I take them away, she is. And... I'm sighing.
"I don't." Lies. "I just figured it might be a little...awkward...you don't have to do this, Addison."
That's when it happens. That venomous little smile. The kind that makes you recoil right in your seat and force the contents of your stomach to wonder if they've made the right choice in settling there. Maybe they'd be better off all over the table, leaving you hunched over and churning and begging for mercy.
"Oh, but I do..." Another chocolate-raisin is popped into her mouth. Those pearly whites don't even waste the time to chew it. She just swallows it. Like a snake. "I need to tell you that I don't hate you, Meredith Grey. No, I don't." She chuckles and takes the glasses from her face, tucking them away into the pocket of her white coat. "I despise you. I loathe you. I think you are nothing. You are a whore. You bring shame to the entire hospital community, Meredith Grey." She keeps saying my full name, and it's making me glad she doesn't also know my middle. "But, I'm sure you know all about whores, I mean...look at your mother." Her tone remains calm. Eerily calm. She really outdid herself now.
I sat there, for all of it. Taking it like her whipping boy. I sat there as she called me a whore; it was an old insult. I sat there as she told me she hated me; I'd known. But when she brought my mother into the equation, I couldn't stop myself from lunging at her from my side of the table.
Raisinettes went flying and sprinkling over the floor in a chocolate shower as my hands made their way around her neck. We hit the floor hard enough to dent it as far as I’m concerned. Her face was wild with rage and I imagined mine was similar. She worked on clawing at my arms. I tried to collapse her windpipe. We writhed on the dirty linoleum for a few extra seconds, battling for dominance. She spun me over on my back and I cracked my head hard off the tile. Her teeth were clenched. Her hands were cold. She was trying to suffocate me with her hands while I continued to wring her neck. I was gasping for air when we both heard that voice and stopped cold.
"YOU have two seconds to get up and offa each other before I come over there and give you the beating you failed to give each other." It was Bailey and she was pissed. My head dropped to look at my shoes. My nose was bleeding. I didn't have to see her to know she was standing with both fists at her hips. Such a small woman was so domineering that both Addison and I shot up, each trying to smooth down our hair in succession.
"Chief's office--NOW!" She spat. Her face was serious and her eyes were wide and I left my turkey sandwich to rot.
---
Chief Webber leans his back on his desk with his arms folded against the pristine white of the coat on his chest. We sit before him in two chairs. He gives both of us a hard glare and I'm suddenly glad for my ability to disappear in my own head. I'm trying to count the salt and pepper flecks throughout his hair and beard. Addison has her hands wringing in her lap. I take it she's never been to the principal's office. I have, so I sit and let the punishment roll. I feel so foolish with the wad of cotton up my right nostril, clotting the nose bleed that Addison gave me.
"Do either of you have any...IDEA of what you are doing? I mean, really! I--I'm dumbfounded. I'm outraged... Addison, I expected more of you. You are to be an influence to our interns, not a source of violence!" He's pacing. "And Meredith! I could wipe you out of this hospital faster than you can say 'boo'."Boo
"Sir, Meredith hit me first..." Addison says matter-of-factly. I would've hated her in nursery school.
"Is this true Grey?" He asks; heat off of Red for a moment and onto me.
"I never hit her, sir..." I was honest. I just lunged at her like a crazy person hungry for flesh and thirsty for blood. I bet his tune would change if I told him why I did act so rashly.
"Oh, bullsh--"
"Addison!" He shouts. "Now, whatever the hell happened out there, you two need to cool the hell off. Do you want me to call for a psychiatric evaluation of the two of you?" His tone is threatening.
"No!" We say in unison, then whip around to look at each other and glare. She must be pretty satisfied with herself. Forcing me to anger like that. I bet she thinks she's queen of the world.
"Now, you two are dismissed. Go home and think about your foolish behavior. I should suspend the two of you without pay, but we're short staffed as it is." He wipes a hand over his mouth. "Honestly, I don't know what to say...I'm severely disappointed...and if this ever, EVER happens again...ohhh..." He shakes his head and walks out the door, sure to slam it on the way out. I flinch. Addison grins that putrid, evil grin once more.
"After you, Doctor Grey..." Addison says from the chair closest to the door. I slowly get up from mine and begin to tread lightly.
I expect her to trip me or reach out and sucker punch me in the gut, but, she doesn't. I pass scott-free. She's right behind me. I can hear her angered breathing. As I leave the chief's office I see Bailey leaning against the opposing wall, arms folded in front of her. She shakes her head at me, but looks to Addison and opens her mouth to speak.
"Uh-uh...not so fast. Before you go, I need you to sign off on Miss Williams for discharge..." Addison nods soundlessly and follows after Bailey who's striding in front of her. I can hear her all the way to the lockers. "Honestly...scrappin' in the cafeteria! In front of doctors! In front of patients' families! The nerve!"
----
Miranda Bailey is a no-nonsense kinda gal and that's what I like about her, except for when I'm the nonsense she has no tolerance with. As we make our way to the Neo-Natal unit, she's cursing me, and Meredith, underneath her breath, but mostly out loud. I feel so stupid for letting her get to me that way and I'm seething too much to take Bailey's insults to heart. She hands me a chart which I quickly sign off on. "Remind her to take her pre-natal vitamins, and tell her I'll see her in two weeks." I add, and Bailey nods, taking it in.
"We'll see, you might be missin' an eye after another round with Meredith Grey," She huffs, pushes her way through the double doors deeper into the unit, and leaves me in the middle of the hall way.
I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. I hope I don't run into anyone. The gossip in this hospital spreads faster than forest fires. I didn't need the petty whispering in front of my face nonsense. And frankly, I probably would fight them, too. I did a lot of that lately. I cursed myself for being so confrontational. I cursed Meredith for being so...Meredith. The way she sat there and took the Chief's harshness as if she wasn't even listening. Probably not. The freak.
What the hell does he see in her?
"What, Doctor?" One of the nurses say to me and I groan, pushing past her to make it to the lockers. I still use the same one I did as an intern. I find it safe.
As I open the dimly-lit room door, I notice that it's relatively silent, and I'm glad for that. I sigh and shrug out of my coat. I make my way to my locker and quickly try for the combination. Damnit. I try again. Success. I'm stuffing my things in there with no real order and grabbing my bag, keys, and the coffee mug I'd brought in today. When I close it again; slam it, actually, Meredith is standing in its place to my left.
"What?" I say. "Please move, I'm leaving." I turn to pivot around her.
"Addison, wait..." She sounds petulant and I'm grinning at her again. Through my teeth. I want to bury her.
"What? What Grey? What? You're sorry? I don't want to hear it. Just leave me and my husband the... fuck... alone, okay?" The word husband feels strange on my tongue. I want to spit it out. I figure this is easier enough for her to understand. But her face screws up. She's at a loss for words.
And that's when she does it. When she reaches up and pulls my mouth to hers.
I am kissing Meredith Grey.
----
People are creative. People are ruthless. People are smart. And people are mostly conniving. I chose to be a combination of the list. I needed Addison's attention so I kissed her. The result was less than what I expected. She slammed me, hard, up against the lockers. I thought she might eat my entire face off in a moment. She drops her bag, her mug. It shatters.
"Who do you think you are, Grey? Hm?" She's pushing my shoulder so that it bounces off the metal with repeated bangs. "I mean really, who?"
"I just...I needed your attention!" I say, realizing just how tall she is. She dwarfs me with her imposing, Amazonian figure. I'm trying not to lose my resolve. "I'm SORRY!" I am shouting at her and she stops. She stops hitting my shoulder off the locker and just stares. Her eyes, so blue, look like they're hazed over and ready to storm.
Her hair, probably once-done today with elaborate curlers is now lying flat against her, coming around past her shoulders in an enviable shade of red. She's wearing a black blouse and a black skirt visible without her white coat and her toupe-colored tights have a runner up the side. My eyes find her shoes. I quietly wonder how she managed to wrestle me in heels like those.
Her face, once full of resolve, with elaborate intent to break me is now blank. Her lower lip is trembling and the small scrap of lipstick she was wearing is now smeared, against one side of her mouth. My fault. I watch as the tears begin to leak out of those wide eyes.
"Sorry?" She asks, mouth full of tears. "Sorry?" She chokes and then begins to sob. She's sobbing so hard that her forehead is resting against the locker. I feel awkward and huge, no longer dwarfed by this woman. I realize she’s shattered.
Very slowly I put a hand on her shoulder, very slowly her form moves to lean against me. Deep down she knows. She knows that Derek is hardly a perfect suitor for her. Deep down she knows she was just waiting for him to make this final folly before she could leave him with a reason. Deep down she feels free.
A funny thing happened then, I felt sorry for Addison, and I loathed Derek. I wanted to slap him for treating her this way. Addison. Who could cheat on Addison? She was so pretty, and smart, and bubbly. All of the things I was not. I was mostly hidden, bookish, and cloistered. On any other circumstance I would've probably taken her out for drinks to man-hate and peruse for other men. But now, I was helpless to her, to me. I didn't know what to do.
I held her.
----
I had to know. I had to. I wondered what would possess him to do this to me. To us. I raised my hand and she shuts her eyes tightly. Something sick inside of me enjoys watching her squirm. I use the hand she thought would slap her to cup her cheek. I bend down. She's staring at me. Though, I'm surprised she can see beneath those ridiculous bangs. I kiss her. Again. Letting myself go. I'm crying again, into her mouth. I’m unraveling. I’m scared, scared because I no longer care. No longer did I care what Derek Shepherd thinks. I was doing this, on my own, without him nagging my brain. I was doing this. I wanted to. I wanted to kiss Meredith.
At first she doesn't move, but soon warms up to me. Her hands reach out to grasp my arms, feeling for biceps that a man would have. When the feeling is less toned and more lean, she moves her hands to my waist. I remember kissing a girl in medical school. It was nothing like this. Meredith was softer, more inviting. Her tongue slides into my mouth. I rip myself away, gather my things, and walk out the door.
I pretend not to hear her scream.
----
I scream, so loudly that Izzie comes rushing into the lockers. She looks frantic and sleepless. Like everyone else in this God-forsaken place.
"What happened? Did she hit you? I heard about the fight. Are you okay? Did you really break her nose?" Izzie's eyes are wild and the tone in her voice reminds me of middle school drama.
I smirk at the hospital gossip and its inaccuracy. I shake my head, zip my jacket, and move past her.
"Meredith?" She asks.
"I'm going home..." I wave her off.
----
I don't know what possessed me to kiss that woman and enjoy it. I don't know what possessed me to sit and think about it for two hours over a bottle of wine. I don't know what possessed me to eat ice cream out of the container as I cried. I don't know what possessed me to call the taxi. I don't know what possessed me to ride halfway across town. I don't know what possessed me to ring the doorbell. I don't know what possessed me to ask O'Malley to let me in.
"Doc...doctor Montgo-Shep...Addison!" He says, standing in the doorway, looking dumbfounded at my presence. "Look, Meredith's...not here...we don't want anymore trouble from you." He sticks out his chest, acting like the confident older brother. I shake my head at him. He tries so hard.
"I just would like to talk to Meredith." I say, eyes roaming past him. I’ve been thinking about her for hours and I want to know if she’s doing the same. I want to know what she thinks. I just want to be near her. I see Izzie gaping at me over a Styrofoam container of take-out. Cristina slowly follows, looking genuinely damaging. George looks back to the rest of the pack and they nod to him.
"Let her in, George..." Izzie says through mouthfuls of some sort of pasta. I step into the hall way. I'm wearing what I wore to work and feel highly overdressed amongst the pajama-clad interns.
Cristina steps forward. "You hurt her. I hurt you." She pauses and gestures toward the stairs. I know she is serious. "Third door on your left."
I climb toward my demise.
---
When I hear the knock at my door, I instinctively say "go away..." I'm too busy wallowing in self-pity to entertain company. I sip from the large forty-ounce beer that Cristina picked up from me at the convenience store. I hate beer, but she refused to get me another bottle of tequila, and besides it's numbing me just fine. I've drunk a good eighteen ounces of it and wonder how much further I can go without vomiting.
At the next knock I'm sure it's George. He's probably going to try to bribe me with Chinese again.
"George, I mean--"
"Meredith!" I hear the voice, but it cannot be true. She's harassing me at home now? She opens the door. I can’t stop my heart from hammering in excitement.
Standing in a long, tan trench coat and those same ripped stockings and shoes is Addison. She looks ruffled. Her make up is smeared beneath her eyes. I sit up on the bed. I feel grossly under-dressed. I'm wearing flannel pajama pants and a sports bra. I felt like being in the dark place, and I needed the proper attire for it. Luckily, I didn't wear make up because it would be all over my face, streaking down my cheeks from my onslaught of crying all day. I set my beer on the table beside my bed. She takes off her coat, still in the same blouse and skirt.
I pat a spot at the end of the bed in the tousled covers and she complies, taking an awkward seat. She could probably burn holes through me with that gaze. She wets her lips, and then speaks to me.
"I'm not sorry." Is all she says.
"For bloodying my nose?" I ask. "Or trying to kill me?"
"For anything. For anything I said." Her gaze is still attached to my eyes.
"Oh," I remark, picking up my beer again. The monstrosity. I drink some of it and grimace.
"Or...for kissing you." I stop, everything. I don't want to look at her, but I do. Her face fixed on mine now. I move closer to her. I want to see her face when I tell her off.
"Oh, of course you aren't, Addison. You're too busy walking around with your fountains of wisdom about what makes people whores to worry about that. You're too busy persecuting me...when...when you know damn well you've never been happy with him! You've just been looking for an excuse to cut yourself free!" I'm crying. "I'm not happy either." I explode, panting.
She's crying again. The woman could rival me with all of the tears she's shed in my presence. This time, it's quiet sobs that shake her entire form. I move closer and wrap a tentative arm around her. She cries brazenly against my chest, staining it. I feel the tears at the straps of my sports bra. I cry into her hair.
I do not protest when she wraps her arms around me in response. I do not protest when she begins pounding my back with her fists. I do not protest when she kisses the side of my neck. I do not protest when she throws me on my back. I do not protest when she takes her shoes off. I do not protest watching her remove her shirt button-by-button. I do not protest her sliding her skirt and stockings down her legs. I do not protest when she kisses me with a hunger I have yet to experience.
----
Meredith's words resound in my head as I kiss the life out of her. She's experienced, tongue sliding out to taste my lips. I let her in. I don't want to, but I do. I pin her hands above her head. She smells like beer. I smell like wine. I know this, she knows this, I'm sure of it. I've never slept with a woman before, especially not my husband's mistress. I see why he touches her. I see why he fucks her. I see why I want her. I'm diving into the side of her neck, kissing it, biting it, sucking it. I hope it leaves a mark that she has to explain to her friends tomorrow. I hope she feels it for days to come. I want her to feel me.
I can hear her hiccupping sobs as I bite her neck again. I know I'm not hurting her. She's fighting in her head. I let go of her hands. She grabs my head, pulling me by the hair back to her mouth. Her mouth tastes like tears and beer. Her tongue examines me skillfully. I press against hers in an almost rebellious fashion. She fights me. She fights me like she did in the hospital. I pull her sports bra up, exposing her breasts. My hands cover them as I shake, nervously. I pinch one of her nipples and she moans out my name. She’s so small beneath my hands.
"Addison..." It's pleadingly uncertain. She's undone my bra with one hand. I wonder if she's done this before.
I grab her hair, bunching it in my fist; those dirty blonde locks were so impossibly soft. "Say it, again..." I grit through clenched teeth, watching her eyes roll back in her head.
"Addison..." She sounds like a tamer version of every lover I've ever had. And yet, so much…hotter.
I collapse against her and bite her earlobe. "Again..."
"Addison..."
I could've come right there.
---
"Addison..." I say again, watching the reaction I'm eliciting. I like it.
Despite the gender, sex is all the same. It's about giving and taking. It's about pushing and pulling. It's about feeling. It's about contact. It's about sweat and grit and sometimes blood. Tears. Passion. Compassion. In this case; curiosity, lust, carnal desire, and need. Need to fill the gaping void in the other.
I squeeze her breasts, pushing and rolling her nipples with a reverence to her lithe body. I no longer felt short underneath her. We were eye level as she lifted her chest off of me to give me better access. She's panting. Her physique is enviable-- smooth and toned, perfect. Her head is tipping back and that hair is spilling over her pale shoulders and back some. I squeeze her breasts and lean forward to take a nipple into my mouth. I bite it. She pushes me back down on the bed, chest rising and falling in heaves.
I get a glimpse at her choice of undergarments and feel my face grow hot. I couldn't believe she wore such a sexy pair of underwear to work. They were lacy and red, cupping each butt cheek in the most sinfully complementary way. I reached down to pull them off of her and she grabs my wrists, pinning them against the bed again. Clearly, this night was going to be Addison's way of showing me who was boss. And frankly, at this point, I did not care to protest.
She claws my pants and underwear off, leaving angry red marks over my hips and stomach. She gets me naked though. She's staring at me. I close my eyes so she can move through me as she pleases. When I open them she's still staring at me. I look anywhere but her eyes until she grabs my chin, forcing me to look at her. The other hand has abandoned my still-captive wrist and is heading for the apex in between my thighs.
When she touches me I think I will start crying again.
----
Meredith is wet. Wetter than I've ever felt myself to be. I assumed it was from all the roughhousing. She looks like she's about to cry again, and I put my knowledge of a woman’s anatomy to good use. Two fingers slip inside of her, beginning the mounting of pleasure. I finger-fuck her hard. Hard enough to physically move her. Harder than I've ever done to myself. Hard enough so that the heel of my palm is slapping against the woman's clit. She's all but screaming and I know her roommates are perched outside the door to listen in. I slide another finger inside of the woman at my mercy.
Let's give them something to listen to...
----
When I feel Addison's fingers disappear inside of me I figure I must've gotten drunk and blacked out and was now having a confusing dream. Very confusing. It wasn't until I felt her grab my chin again and warn me to look at her that I knew I wasn't dreaming. She's fucking me. Addison Montgomery-Shepherd is fucking me. I groaned. I watched the face of the woman on top; it’s so concentrated, so serene. I’ve seen it before. I writhed. Addison had a wonderful idea of how to please me. I pleaded. A woman. I wondered if she'd done this before. I cried out. I know I will feel this tomorrow. I know I will feel this for days.
When I come, I'm screaming into the sports bra balled in my hand. She's grinning at me, not ceasing her hand as I spasm around her fingers.
Fuck you, Addison.
"What was that?" She smiles coyly. She's anything BUT coy.
I wordlessly reply to her, gathering all of my strength and pushing her over, getting her out of me. She goes with little protest. I nearly tear off the underwear she is wearing, tossing them over my shoulder as my head dips down to show her up.
----
It's quite a show when Meredith comes. I've never heard a woman other than myself come. And then it’s usually hushed and restrained, mostly a necessity. Hers is delicate and fluttery, but throaty as well. It dizzied me; it allowed her to gain the upper hand, something I didn't want her to have. As she pushes me onto my back I struggle for control. Two hands are at my hips as she kneels between my knees, holding me down. I'm wiggling. I'm trying. Meredith bites my thigh. I know she's done this before. Either that or she was a very good faker. Or just good at having sex. She seemed to have a lot of it.
When her mouth comes in contact with my desire, I cry out. I could feel through her probing tongue just how...aroused I'd become. Sopping, was more like it. Meredith wordlessly slung both of my legs over her shoulders and devoured me. She licked my clitoris with a skill I'm sure she had to have picked up. Her fingers make headway inside of me while her tongue does its own dance around me. I'm pulling her hair, scratching her back. But she does not stop. She does not even falter. Her eyes flick up to look at me and I'm short of breath.
When I come, I'm screaming out my profession to a God who is probably confused to why I'm also calling him Meredith.
Unlike me, Meredith stops when she knows I've finished. She rests her head against my thigh and stares away from me. I pull her up into my lap. She fits in it effortlessly, and nakedly. I kiss her, tentatively at first and then fully. I slide my tongue past her lips. I taste myself so strongly that I'm not sure what to make of it. Meredith's shaking so hard that she has to settle her hand at my shoulders. When the kiss is broken, I lay my head on her shoulder and cry, and cry, and cry. She holds me. I've never felt more comforted. Or whole.
----
At the end of the day, all we want to do is be close to somebody. Whether that somebody is our colleague's husband, or our colleague’s wife. We yearn for the closeness of another human body, for someone who will help us fill the empty space in our beds. I held Addison as she cried against my chest. Tucked her in as she fell asleep in a puddle of her own tears. I lay there, in the dark, with her in my arms. She was tall. I was not. She was smart. I was not. She was breathtaking. I was not. I sighed as I repeatedly kissed her head. She had cried so hard that her breath rifted even in sleep.
I tried to close my eyes to sleep but instead was faced with searing images at the back of my eyelids. Hours pass as I lay like this, unable to move in fear of waking Addison. It is then she stirs and wakes, eyes adjusting to a room she has never been in. She reaches up to touch my face. I kiss her thumb. She smiles. I'm startled at the sight. Her hair is an absolute mess, but she’s…beautiful. I can only imagine what mine looks like.
"Meredith?" She questions.
"Yeah?" I smooth over one of her wickedly-arched eyebrows.
"Please don't leave me..." Her voice is cracked from crying.
"I won't." I nod in promise.
----
It is weeks later when I know that Meredith is good at keeping her word. As she pushes me up against the closed door of the on-call room and reaches up my skirt to finger me into a lazy three-am orgasm, I know that she will not leave my side. As I release for her, I hold her to me. She kisses me so tenderly all over my face that I'm sure I will break. That I will melt underneath the door into a puddle of my former self. I thought this for the weeks to come, each time we met in those rooms. And each time we had the same conversation.
"Addie?" She asks, lips pressed against my temple.
"Yeah, Meredith?" I inhale her scent; Ivory Soap and Pantene Pro-V.
"Please don't leave me..."
"I won't..." I kiss her forehead.
----
I do not protest when Derek threatens to sue me, or kill me. I do not protest when Izzie begs me for all the juicy details. I do not protest when Cristina smiles at me on her way to bed. I do not protest when George and Alex ask me embarrassing questions about sleeping with women. I do not protest when I wait outside Derek’s trailer for Addison, listening to the shouts behind the aluminum walls. I do not protest as we unload her suitcases full of pretty, pretty things into my bedroom. I do not protest when she begs me to pitch in on rent. I do not protest her picking out new curtains for the kitchen. I do not protest when she whispers "I love you" into the shadows of our bedroom.