(no subject)
Title: Watershed Divide
Pairing: Sam/Addison
Rating: PG-13
Summary: For escapismrocks , who wanted anything with this pairing. Launching off of 3.13.
A/N: I can't help myself, and since I like this ship that must mean it is absolutely doomed, yay! I'm sure half of this will mean nothing by tomorrow night, but I wanted to get it out before I could be swayed one way or another. Oh, also clues belong to The New York Times, not my insufficient brain. Enjoy-
~-~-~-~-~-~
Watershed Divide
- A Northern Chorus
~-~-~-~-~-~
Sheldon carefully weighs his options, jumping onto the elevator with one Dr. Montgomery who appears to be rather immersed in her morning reading, but he can't resist. "Morning."
"Morning," Addison replies without looking up, a pen between her fingers, arms laden with heavy bags.
"How are you today?" Sheldon baits. He's interested, and not just for himself. Call it unprofessional, call it being friendly, either way he wants to know.
"Fine," Addison quips, trying to figure out 15 Down. "1972 Pulitzer winner for Commentary," she says aloud, to herself.
"Royko," Sheldon answers, grinning when she looks up at him skeptically before trying to fit the solution into her puzzle. Normally, he wouldn't give in, but this isn't a normal event.
"You're right," Addison confirms, his offering fitting in nicely with all of the other clues she's figured out in the middle of traffic, and over her morning coffee.
"It's a pretty easy one today," Sheldon tells her, peeking over the turned edges to see that she's almost done anyway. "I like crosswords, they help me start my day."
"Yeah," Addison agrees skeptically as the bell chimes out loudly, signaling that they have arrived on his floor.
"Have a good day," Sheldon says wistfully, creeping away from her without the one question he wanted to ask being posed in their short ride.
She doesn't reply, but her half-glare, half-smile implies that it's an impossible feat anyway. And with that he has his unspoken reply.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Violet squints her eyes closed, trying to discern a difference in her two co-workers, really her two bosses. "Think something is up with them?"
"With who?" Cooper asks, following her line of sight to the oddly quiet kitchen. "No, nah. They're like...impenetrable," Cooper brushes off. "Naomi has flown the cuckoo's nest, but Sam is alright. And Addison, is Addison," he laughs uncomfortably at the mention of the redhead who he is yet to be on better-than-decent terms with in the last year.
"Something feels off," Violet notes, sipping at her tea, the soggy string getting caught up in her lips.
"Maybe it's the crazy talking," Cooper suggests, tapping her skull before jaunting away to his next patient with a marble stuck up their nose.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Are we going to talk about it Sam?" Addison asks worriedly, beyond done with her paper, her coffee, and her juice. It's time to get down to business.
"Talk about what?" Sam retorts, acting as though she's just plucked him from the lines of one of his charts.
"Fine," Addison nearly growls, slapping the front page to the counter and turning on her sharp heel.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Addison?" Naomi yells, following hotly on her trail into her own office. "Addie!" She frowns when she finds her friend wrist deep in her candy bowl, head in her hands as she chews. "What did you do?"
"Nothin'," Addison gulps. "Needed something sugary."
"You can tell me," Naomi encourages, pushing the ceramic purple bowl that Maya made when she was five closer to Addison's dangling white bracelet.
"Nothing to tell," Addison says between swallowing. The chocolate coats her throat in a thick saliva, promptly making her stand, wipe her hands hesitantly on her skirt and scamper off to her own bathroom to purge.
The tears follow shortly after round three, sniffles echoing into her private room, coldness coursing down her cheeks.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"I want this, I want this badly Addison and you said no...you said no! How do you expect me to react. You want me to...walk around and what? Pretend everything is fine? Everything is not fine." Sam dares, stumbling into her office after pacing his own and successfully managing to get nothing done.
"I don't know," Addison whispers to herself. She kind of just wanted to go back, but looking at him, trying to ascertain what he looks like under that damn vest, she can clearly realize that her dreams will never come to fruition. "Naomi-"
"Is out of my life," Sam finishes for her, not in the least bit concerned that their raising voices could cause a distraction. Or that the fact that the blinds are open may cause a bit of a show.
"No," Addison disagrees. "She isn't. She's Maya's mother. She's your ex-wife-"
"Ex," Sam emphasizes once more. He wants to kiss her. Hell, he wants to back her up against that desk and have his way with her. And it's disappointing that it can't happen, that she won't allow it out of some sort of friendly duty.
"Still-" Addison shrieks, "she's in your life. She's in my life. I like her in my life, and I know you're mad at her, but you love Nae-"
"I am not in love with Naomi," Sam interrupts. He's not about to be baited into saying he's in love with Addison though, not yet, even if it is a distinct possibility for the future.
"I can't do this to her," Addison shakes her head, stepping into the couch as he presses forward. "You wouldn't do this to her either Sam, you're a good guy...you're mad."
"It's not about her," Sam repeats, pushing into her personal space, the tender skin of her bronzed shoulder catching his eye. "My being mad...my being a good guy- nothing to do with Naomi."
"Sam-"
"I'm mad at my daughter, because she did something inexplicably dumb. And I'm mad she forced me into this situation, but I'm dealing with it. I'm trying to wrap my head around it. And if I wasn't a good guy I would've killed Dink by now," Sam smiles, fingers aching to touch her jaw, tilt it just so.
"Sam," Addison pauses when he gives her an actual chance to say something, but it dies immediately when she finds his eyes. He's the kind of guy she's been hunting for. And he's damaged yes, but he understands, and he hasn't, until now, held her disabilities against her.
"Why can't you just let yourself be happy?"
~-~-~-~-~-~
She wavers between eating out of the palm of his hand, and alternating back toward knowing how wrong this is, but with three-quarters worth of wine in her, it doesn't much matter which way she's leaning as she storms into his house, interrupting the dinner process. "Naomi is...important to me. And...I want this," she gestures between them. "But I can't be happy if Naomi isn't with me."
"You're willing to sacrifice something...she's more important," Sam deduces, knife stilling in his hand as he accuses her.
"You aren't some guy from a bar Sam! There's no...awkward nights trying to figure out who you are. It's-"
"Perfect," Sam sighs, returning to his slimy carrots, fresh from the last washing.
"Serious," Addison corrects. "I need my friend," she pleads, hanging onto the door handle. But she needs him to understand, to approve, because there is literally no one else to talk to about this.
"You're loyalty is infuriating," Sam argues, not looking up, then suddenly dropping the cutlery. "If Naomi was half the friend you make her out to be-" he stops himself as his ravings become yelling and then stations himself behind the counter once more. "She would want you happy, even if it was as horrible as being with me."
She doesn't particularly care for this side of Sam, and though she's a notorious fighter, there's a bit too much truth in the words that leave her more stunned than anything else. "It's- you're not horrible," is all she manages to scrape together. "I can't pick between the two of you, it's not fair to ask."
"I'm not asking you to pick," Sam refutes. He's just asking her to give this a shot. He could give a care less if Naomi goes one way or another. He's getting under her skin, he can see the telling signs of tears beginning to creep in, can sense the way her breath is starting to hitch in her chest. He hit a nerve, and instead of being the nice guy, he goes for it. "What's so wrong with wanting this Addison?"
"It would hurt her!"
"You don't know that-"
"I do," Addison almost pouts, she knows nothing if not that, at least, after that little talk with Naomi.
"So...let's get this straight," Sam says, drawing in the air. "You aren't worth it to yourself...you can't place yourself in front of Naomi? Naomi who ran out on us? Naomi who hardly spoke to either one us? The same woman that drove our practice into the ground and then abandoned it? And when you tried to talk to her-"
"That was my fault!" Addison cries suddenly, angrily wiping her face, wanting to be stoic in this mess, because she is so sure that she's right.
"No," Sam sighs, leaning over the kitchen sink. Perhaps it's not a battle he's meant to win. He's done with words, they don't seem to be getting him anywhere anyway. Instead, he grabs her hand clutching the ajar door, slams it closed, and promptly leans in and kisses her soundly. He can feel her squirming, trying to get her trapped fingers free to wrap around his neck, but he breaks away first. "How can you deny that?"
"I can't," Addison whimpers, body still too close to his, the heat trying to shred her lungs.
Sam can feel his teeth clench as she launches into another rant about cheating on Derek, and on Mark, and it takes everything in him to not reach up and knock some sense in her. But she looks terrified, justifiably so, and it stops him short. "What do you want?" Sam demands, running interference on her complete freak out.
"You!" Addison yells back without thought, her hips being drug into his as he presses his warm lips to her neck, shoulder, anywhere he can reach. "No, no, Sam, no," Addison moans, fingers wound in his belt loops. "Not like this-"
"Stop thinking Addison," Sam urges, before pushing the thin blue strap off her shoulder with his teeth.
"I can't tell her, I can't not tell her," Addison says softly, finally getting him to pull back.
"You would rather betray yourself-"
"I- maybe...we should see how this goes before...we decide anything," she grins. Sure, secrets are bad, but she reasons, alerting Naomi, devastating her over something that may be absolutely nothing, that's not worth the trouble.
"Ok," Sam nods, plucking the second button on her blouse from its hole, feeling the anticipation become palpable. He pats his pocket for his inhaler, just in case, to make sure its ready.
"You can pick me up at seven tomorrow night," Addison stipulates, fastening her shirt back, readying herself to leave. She catches his astonished look of exasperation. "One date. One date at a time."
"You realize we've had our first fight before our first date," Sam says doubtingly.
"We-'re," Addison stammers, testing it on her tongue, "a bit unconventional."
"Yes. And yes," Sam repeats, "to the date. Seven," he tells her, anxiety mounting again. It's been a while, it's been even longer since he dated someone he could actually see himself with. "One date at a time."
"Tomorrow," Addison says with a jump in her heart, a smile for the first time all week. Besides what's the point in being the worst person in the world if she can't even be momentarily happy.
"Tomorrow."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Argot," Sheldon greets, twirling his sharpened pencil, Addison stepping onto the elevator with him. "21 Down."
"Oh." She looks up from her warm coffee cup. "I finished mine at home today."
"I see."
~-~-~-~-~-~
Pairing: Sam/Addison
Rating: PG-13
Summary: For escapismrocks , who wanted anything with this pairing. Launching off of 3.13.
A/N: I can't help myself, and since I like this ship that must mean it is absolutely doomed, yay! I'm sure half of this will mean nothing by tomorrow night, but I wanted to get it out before I could be swayed one way or another. Oh, also clues belong to The New York Times, not my insufficient brain. Enjoy-
~-~-~-~-~-~
Watershed Divide
- A Northern Chorus
~-~-~-~-~-~
Sheldon carefully weighs his options, jumping onto the elevator with one Dr. Montgomery who appears to be rather immersed in her morning reading, but he can't resist. "Morning."
"Morning," Addison replies without looking up, a pen between her fingers, arms laden with heavy bags.
"How are you today?" Sheldon baits. He's interested, and not just for himself. Call it unprofessional, call it being friendly, either way he wants to know.
"Fine," Addison quips, trying to figure out 15 Down. "1972 Pulitzer winner for Commentary," she says aloud, to herself.
"Royko," Sheldon answers, grinning when she looks up at him skeptically before trying to fit the solution into her puzzle. Normally, he wouldn't give in, but this isn't a normal event.
"You're right," Addison confirms, his offering fitting in nicely with all of the other clues she's figured out in the middle of traffic, and over her morning coffee.
"It's a pretty easy one today," Sheldon tells her, peeking over the turned edges to see that she's almost done anyway. "I like crosswords, they help me start my day."
"Yeah," Addison agrees skeptically as the bell chimes out loudly, signaling that they have arrived on his floor.
"Have a good day," Sheldon says wistfully, creeping away from her without the one question he wanted to ask being posed in their short ride.
She doesn't reply, but her half-glare, half-smile implies that it's an impossible feat anyway. And with that he has his unspoken reply.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Violet squints her eyes closed, trying to discern a difference in her two co-workers, really her two bosses. "Think something is up with them?"
"With who?" Cooper asks, following her line of sight to the oddly quiet kitchen. "No, nah. They're like...impenetrable," Cooper brushes off. "Naomi has flown the cuckoo's nest, but Sam is alright. And Addison, is Addison," he laughs uncomfortably at the mention of the redhead who he is yet to be on better-than-decent terms with in the last year.
"Something feels off," Violet notes, sipping at her tea, the soggy string getting caught up in her lips.
"Maybe it's the crazy talking," Cooper suggests, tapping her skull before jaunting away to his next patient with a marble stuck up their nose.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Are we going to talk about it Sam?" Addison asks worriedly, beyond done with her paper, her coffee, and her juice. It's time to get down to business.
"Talk about what?" Sam retorts, acting as though she's just plucked him from the lines of one of his charts.
"Fine," Addison nearly growls, slapping the front page to the counter and turning on her sharp heel.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Addison?" Naomi yells, following hotly on her trail into her own office. "Addie!" She frowns when she finds her friend wrist deep in her candy bowl, head in her hands as she chews. "What did you do?"
"Nothin'," Addison gulps. "Needed something sugary."
"You can tell me," Naomi encourages, pushing the ceramic purple bowl that Maya made when she was five closer to Addison's dangling white bracelet.
"Nothing to tell," Addison says between swallowing. The chocolate coats her throat in a thick saliva, promptly making her stand, wipe her hands hesitantly on her skirt and scamper off to her own bathroom to purge.
The tears follow shortly after round three, sniffles echoing into her private room, coldness coursing down her cheeks.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"I want this, I want this badly Addison and you said no...you said no! How do you expect me to react. You want me to...walk around and what? Pretend everything is fine? Everything is not fine." Sam dares, stumbling into her office after pacing his own and successfully managing to get nothing done.
"I don't know," Addison whispers to herself. She kind of just wanted to go back, but looking at him, trying to ascertain what he looks like under that damn vest, she can clearly realize that her dreams will never come to fruition. "Naomi-"
"Is out of my life," Sam finishes for her, not in the least bit concerned that their raising voices could cause a distraction. Or that the fact that the blinds are open may cause a bit of a show.
"No," Addison disagrees. "She isn't. She's Maya's mother. She's your ex-wife-"
"Ex," Sam emphasizes once more. He wants to kiss her. Hell, he wants to back her up against that desk and have his way with her. And it's disappointing that it can't happen, that she won't allow it out of some sort of friendly duty.
"Still-" Addison shrieks, "she's in your life. She's in my life. I like her in my life, and I know you're mad at her, but you love Nae-"
"I am not in love with Naomi," Sam interrupts. He's not about to be baited into saying he's in love with Addison though, not yet, even if it is a distinct possibility for the future.
"I can't do this to her," Addison shakes her head, stepping into the couch as he presses forward. "You wouldn't do this to her either Sam, you're a good guy...you're mad."
"It's not about her," Sam repeats, pushing into her personal space, the tender skin of her bronzed shoulder catching his eye. "My being mad...my being a good guy- nothing to do with Naomi."
"Sam-"
"I'm mad at my daughter, because she did something inexplicably dumb. And I'm mad she forced me into this situation, but I'm dealing with it. I'm trying to wrap my head around it. And if I wasn't a good guy I would've killed Dink by now," Sam smiles, fingers aching to touch her jaw, tilt it just so.
"Sam," Addison pauses when he gives her an actual chance to say something, but it dies immediately when she finds his eyes. He's the kind of guy she's been hunting for. And he's damaged yes, but he understands, and he hasn't, until now, held her disabilities against her.
"Why can't you just let yourself be happy?"
~-~-~-~-~-~
She wavers between eating out of the palm of his hand, and alternating back toward knowing how wrong this is, but with three-quarters worth of wine in her, it doesn't much matter which way she's leaning as she storms into his house, interrupting the dinner process. "Naomi is...important to me. And...I want this," she gestures between them. "But I can't be happy if Naomi isn't with me."
"You're willing to sacrifice something...she's more important," Sam deduces, knife stilling in his hand as he accuses her.
"You aren't some guy from a bar Sam! There's no...awkward nights trying to figure out who you are. It's-"
"Perfect," Sam sighs, returning to his slimy carrots, fresh from the last washing.
"Serious," Addison corrects. "I need my friend," she pleads, hanging onto the door handle. But she needs him to understand, to approve, because there is literally no one else to talk to about this.
"You're loyalty is infuriating," Sam argues, not looking up, then suddenly dropping the cutlery. "If Naomi was half the friend you make her out to be-" he stops himself as his ravings become yelling and then stations himself behind the counter once more. "She would want you happy, even if it was as horrible as being with me."
She doesn't particularly care for this side of Sam, and though she's a notorious fighter, there's a bit too much truth in the words that leave her more stunned than anything else. "It's- you're not horrible," is all she manages to scrape together. "I can't pick between the two of you, it's not fair to ask."
"I'm not asking you to pick," Sam refutes. He's just asking her to give this a shot. He could give a care less if Naomi goes one way or another. He's getting under her skin, he can see the telling signs of tears beginning to creep in, can sense the way her breath is starting to hitch in her chest. He hit a nerve, and instead of being the nice guy, he goes for it. "What's so wrong with wanting this Addison?"
"It would hurt her!"
"You don't know that-"
"I do," Addison almost pouts, she knows nothing if not that, at least, after that little talk with Naomi.
"So...let's get this straight," Sam says, drawing in the air. "You aren't worth it to yourself...you can't place yourself in front of Naomi? Naomi who ran out on us? Naomi who hardly spoke to either one us? The same woman that drove our practice into the ground and then abandoned it? And when you tried to talk to her-"
"That was my fault!" Addison cries suddenly, angrily wiping her face, wanting to be stoic in this mess, because she is so sure that she's right.
"No," Sam sighs, leaning over the kitchen sink. Perhaps it's not a battle he's meant to win. He's done with words, they don't seem to be getting him anywhere anyway. Instead, he grabs her hand clutching the ajar door, slams it closed, and promptly leans in and kisses her soundly. He can feel her squirming, trying to get her trapped fingers free to wrap around his neck, but he breaks away first. "How can you deny that?"
"I can't," Addison whimpers, body still too close to his, the heat trying to shred her lungs.
Sam can feel his teeth clench as she launches into another rant about cheating on Derek, and on Mark, and it takes everything in him to not reach up and knock some sense in her. But she looks terrified, justifiably so, and it stops him short. "What do you want?" Sam demands, running interference on her complete freak out.
"You!" Addison yells back without thought, her hips being drug into his as he presses his warm lips to her neck, shoulder, anywhere he can reach. "No, no, Sam, no," Addison moans, fingers wound in his belt loops. "Not like this-"
"Stop thinking Addison," Sam urges, before pushing the thin blue strap off her shoulder with his teeth.
"I can't tell her, I can't not tell her," Addison says softly, finally getting him to pull back.
"You would rather betray yourself-"
"I- maybe...we should see how this goes before...we decide anything," she grins. Sure, secrets are bad, but she reasons, alerting Naomi, devastating her over something that may be absolutely nothing, that's not worth the trouble.
"Ok," Sam nods, plucking the second button on her blouse from its hole, feeling the anticipation become palpable. He pats his pocket for his inhaler, just in case, to make sure its ready.
"You can pick me up at seven tomorrow night," Addison stipulates, fastening her shirt back, readying herself to leave. She catches his astonished look of exasperation. "One date. One date at a time."
"You realize we've had our first fight before our first date," Sam says doubtingly.
"We-'re," Addison stammers, testing it on her tongue, "a bit unconventional."
"Yes. And yes," Sam repeats, "to the date. Seven," he tells her, anxiety mounting again. It's been a while, it's been even longer since he dated someone he could actually see himself with. "One date at a time."
"Tomorrow," Addison says with a jump in her heart, a smile for the first time all week. Besides what's the point in being the worst person in the world if she can't even be momentarily happy.
"Tomorrow."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"Argot," Sheldon greets, twirling his sharpened pencil, Addison stepping onto the elevator with him. "21 Down."
"Oh." She looks up from her warm coffee cup. "I finished mine at home today."
"I see."
~-~-~-~-~-~