I’m Not What You Came For
Jan. 2nd, 2012 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flipflop_divaTitle: I’m Not What You Came For
Pairing: Addison/Meredith
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,556
Summary: After Derek leaves her, Meredith turns to an unlikely source for comfort. AU from somewhere before all the Zola stuff happened.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use.
Author’s Note: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
safertohateher (who requested no fluff) for the GA Secret Santa. I’ve never written Addison/Meredith before, but I gave it my best shot. I hope you like it!
“What are you doing here, Meredith?”
There is such a tone of loathing in her voice and a look of annoyance in her eyes that Meredith immediately regrets every single part of this rash decision. Which really wasn’t even a decision. Or not a conscious decision anyway. Just a phone call to Mark and words spilling out and then, now, standing on Addison’s doorstep.
So definitely not a decision. But also definitely not a good choice.
But instead of turning around and slinking away, climbing back into the little red rental car and pretending this never happened ever, Meredith finds words spilling out of her mouth that she never intended to say.
“Derek left me.”
Addison doesn’t say a word, merely arching one of those amazingly high eyebrows of hers. Meredith feels her face flush.
“I thought you would understand,” Meredith mumbles.
She isn’t sure what she’s expecting, but Meredith doesn’t really think she was expecting Addison to step back and gesture her in. Meredith hesitates, but Addison is still looking at her with that expression of annoyance, so Meredith adjusts the strap of her one piece of luggage over her shoulder and hurries inside.
Neither woman says a word as Meredith follows Addison into a perfectly decorated living room. Meredith instantly notices the collection of empty wine bottles and a half-full wine glass, but she doesn’t say anything, just glances at Addison, who ignores her, sits on the couch, picks up her glass and offers Meredith a bottle of wine.
“I have tequila,” Meredith says.
“Of course you do,” Addison answers.
They drink in a silence that is awkward and uncomfortable, until it isn’t. Side by side, drowning unspoken demons in tequila and wine, the room growing blurry, eyelids getting heavy. Meredith has no concept of how much time has passed when the words slip past her lips.
“Are you okay, Addison?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Her answer comes immediately and harshly. Meredith just lifts the glass to her mouth again. She isn’t sure why she cares anyway. Maybe it’s simple curiosity. After all, Addison is wearing gray sweatpants with holes in them and a gray Yale sweatshirt that looks much too big on her, and the way her hair is clumped around her head, it almost looks like she maybe hasn’t showered in days.
But Meredith doesn’t press it. She has her own problems to deal with.
They fall into silence again. This time it’s Addison who breaks it.
“I’m sorry,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate.
Meredith turns her head to look at her. Addison is staring into her wine glass but she must see the question in Meredith’s eyes because she says, “About Derek. I know what that’s like.”
Meredith nods. “We’re better off without him.”
She’s not sure if she really believes that, but she says it anyway.
“Yeah,” Addison says darkly, but Meredith thinks she sees Addison’s shoulders slump a little more and she finds herself wondering again what exactly is wrong with the redhead beside her.
But neither one says another word as more minutes and hours pass, and the sky turns from blue to black. Finally, Addison shows Meredith to a guest room and Meredith falls into bed, letting the blissfulness of a dreamless sleep overtake her.
Meredith wakes up once when it’s still dark and thinks for a second that she hears the sound of crying, but decides she must be imagining things and falls back to sleep.
She wakes up for good around seven, head pounding, slightly groggy, a bit disoriented by the cream-colored silk sheets surrounding her. Images flash through her head — Derek’s angry words, a slamming door, a hastily packed suitcase, a drive she can’t remember, a call to Mark to see if he would give her Addison’s address for reasons she can’t even explain even to herself, the redhead in question answering the door, bottles of tequila and glasses of wine — and it all comes tumbling back. She thinks she should feel weird and uncomfortable, she thinks she should be sneaking out the door and getting into her car and pretending she was never here, but she doesn’t feel weird, and if she’s being honest with herself, she doesn’t really want to leave.
Instead, she trudges downstairs. She finds Addison sitting on the couch, already through a half bottle of wine.
“It’s seven in the morning,” Meredith says.
“So?” Addison answers and takes another sip. Which is more a gulp than a sip, and that’s when Meredith spots another empty bottle clutched in Addison’s hand.
“Maybe you should slow down,” she says.
“Maybe you should leave,” Addison snaps. She turns her head to glare at Meredith. There’s venom in her eyes.
“You’re not okay,” Meredith says.
Addison’s eyes darken even more. “I told you it’s none of your business. And I also told you to leave.”
Meredith doesn’t move. “And what if I don’t?”
Addison is shooting daggers at her by now, but Meredith isn’t intimidated. Which, if she would think about it, would strike her as a bit odd. Four years ago, she would have been running for cover if Addison looked at her the way she was looking at her right this second. But then again, four years ago, Derek leaving her would have turned her into a zombie who walked around the hospital looking like her life was over. Now, she’s almost more angry that she didn’t see his true colors earlier and instead wasted so much time on him than she is heartbroken and depressed.
“I can call the cops,” Addison says. “You’re trespassing.”
Meredith shrugs. “Go for it.”
She has no intention of backing down. Apparently, neither does Addison.
Addison’s eyes don’t leave Meredith’s face as she struggles to her feet, a half-full glass and an empty bottle still clutched in her hands. But whether it’s the combination of the objects in her hands or the amount of alcohol in her system, Meredith doesn’t know, but before Addison is even all the way upright, she sways and pitches forward.
Meredith reacts instantly, darting forward, but she’s not fast enough. Addison hits the ground hard, her hands out to catch herself, but she doesn’t let go of either the bottle or the glass, and they both shatter in her hands.
The blood appears instantly. So do the tears.
In the few seconds it takes Meredith to reach her, the blood has seemingly covered her hands and she’s sobbing, a combination of pain, fear and whatever it is that is haunting her.
Meredith takes hold of her arm, to try and assess the damage, but Addison isn’t having it. She pulls away from Meredith, fighting her off every time Meredith makes contact with her. She’s sobbing so hard she’s approaching hyperventilation.
Meredith kicks into doctor mode. She leaves Addison on the ground, ignoring the red stain that’s spreading across the carpet, and races to the kitchen, throwing open drawers until she finds the collection of kitchen towels.
She grabs a handful and hurries back. Addison hasn’t moved, but she’s gasping for air through her cries and the blood on the floor, and on her, seems to have doubled.
Meredith latches on to Addison’s left arm and, as expected, Addison tries to jerk away. But Meredith is prepared and grips her harder.
“Addison. Stop moving,” Her voice is loud and commanding. She’s a doctor now, not a girl who showed up on the doorstep of the woman whose marriage she ruined.
Surprisingly, the redhead listens. She doesn’t stop crying, but she does stop fighting. Meredith quickly wraps both of Addison’s hands in the dishtowels, then pulls her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist so she won’t fall over again. Addison is leaning heavily against Meredith’s shoulder, but she lets Meredith steer her toward the nearest bathroom.
Meredith settles Addison on the counter, so she can have a better view of her wounds. Addison is going to need stitches, of that Meredith is sure, judging by the amount of blood seeping through the towels.
A quick search under the sink reveals a first-aid kit, and Meredith gets to work, unwrapping towels, disinfecting cuts, stitching the deep ones, bandaging hands.
By the time she is done turning Addison’s hands into giant white mitts, Addison’s cries have quieted. She’s hiccupping a little and tears are dripping down her cheeks, but she’s calmer and she’s staring at Meredith with an expression Meredith can’t decipher.
“Thank you,” Addison whispers. It’s the first thing either of them has said in awhile.
Meredith smiles softly at her and reaches up a thumb to wipe away some of Addison’s tears. She isn’t sure why, but her fingers linger on Addison’s skin for way longer than necessary, and they are staring at each other, each almost willing the other to look away.
“You’ll be alright,” Meredith whispers back.
Addison shakes her head. “No, I won’t,” she says, almost inaudibly.
And then she leans forward.
Meredith is surprised, but not shocked. Not really. After all, what did she expect from two women who are known for using sex as an escape?
She feels the warmth of Addison’s lips on hers, and she responds. Meredith brings her other hand up to cup Addison’s cheek.
Their kisses are soft and warm and gentle. And searching. As though they are each trying to find something in the other.
Addison can’t use her hands, at least not really, so Meredith does the work for her. She pulls Addison’s blood-covered sweatshirt over her head and helps her remove the sweats that are now more of a rusty copper than gray. A few minutes later, Addison’s bra and panties join the pile.
It feels natural as Addison parts her legs and Meredith slips her fingers inside. Their lips barely leave the other’s, but Addison’s hands placed gently on Meredith’s sides, the movements of her hips against Meredith and her soft moans at Meredith’s ministrations tell Meredith all she needs to know. The whole thing is slow and gentle, and Meredith leaves her fingers in Addison as she comes down from her orgasm.
When they are done, and Meredith has finished as well, mostly from her own fingers but partly from knowing Addison was watching, they lie together on the bathroom floor. Meredith thinks she should say something, but before she can figure out what, Addison is crying again, and so Meredith settles for just holding her.
Addison falls asleep before she finishes crying, and Meredith strokes her fiery tresses while she whimpers in her sleep.
The sound of the door slamming as Derek walked out of her life, maybe forever, feels like a lifetime ago.
When Meredith finds her legs and arms growing numb from lying on the bathroom floor, the only cushion a blue furry rug, she nudges Addison awake and helps her walk upstairs to the bedroom.
Addison doesn’t ask her to stay, and Meredith doesn’t request permission, but there is no protestation when Meredith crawls into bed beside her. Instead, Addison snuggles into her arms, her head on Meredith’s chest and her breath warm on Meredith’s bare breasts.
Meredith rubs Addison’s back and listens to her breathe and tries to figure out what the hell she’s doing — what the hell they are both doing — but she falls asleep before she succeeds.
“He left me” is the first thing Meredith hears when she opens her eyes. Addison is facing her, her hand tucked under her chin, her eyes focused on Meredith. Apart from the fact that both her hands are completely swathed in white bandages, there is no trace that the woman staring at her is the same woman as the one drowning herself in wine yesterday morning. In fact, Meredith rather thinks Addison looks much more like the woman who used to walk the halls of Seattle Grace.
Addison’s eyes are clear, a deep ocean blue. Her eyes aren’t puffy, the tear tracks are gone. Even her hair seems to be lying much more perfectly around her head. Meredith wonders for a second if Addison got out of bed and cleaned herself up, but Meredith is pretty sure that Addison’s bandaged hands would have prevented her from doing that even if she had been so inclined.
“Sam,” Addison clarifies now, once she sees that Meredith’s eyes are open. “We were together. He told me he loved me and that he’d never leave me. But I wanted kids. I wanted kids and he didn’t.”
She pauses at this, and Meredith nods, to show her she’s listening.
“I started IVF. It took a long time. But I got pregnant. The day I told Sam, he left me. Two weeks later, I had a miscarriage. No one knew I was pregnant but Sam. No one knew about the miscarriage.”
“I’m sorry,” Meredith says.
“That was eight days ago,” Addison says.
Meredith doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she reaches out and grasps one of Addison’s hands, squeezes it a little.
“Are you going to be okay?” Meredith asks.
Addison shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
They are quiet for a bit, watching each other.
“You should leave,” Addison finally says.
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You know that’s not true. Go back to Seattle. Go back to your friends.”
“Derek is there,” Meredith says.
“You’re stronger than Derek,” Addison says. “You’re better than him.”
“I could stay,” Meredith says.
Addison smiles. “I’m not what you came here for.”
“You could be what I stay here for.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
Meredith wants to argue, but she knows Addison is right.
“I could stay for you for a little while,” she finally says.
Addison purses her lips. Meredith knows she’s thinking about it.
“Okay,” she says. “I’d like that.”
*****
Meredith stays for three weeks. During that time, they talk, they kiss, they have sex. Actually, they have a lot of sex. But they also confide things in each other they’ve never confided in anyone else. Meredith thinks they maybe even fall in love a little. Of course, they would never say that, though.
But three weeks after she arrives, Meredith knows it’s time to go. Cristina has called every day for the past seven days to ask when Meredith is coming back. Addison’s bandages have come off, and even though her hands aren’t healed, she can use them again without wincing in pain.
Meredith makes Addison promise that she’ll be okay, that she won’t drink herself into a stupor every night on the couch, that she’ll go back to work. That she’ll be okay.
Addison makes Meredith promise that she won’t give up on love, that she won’t let Derek make her feel bad about herself or who she is, that she’ll live her life the way she wants. That she’ll be okay.
They seal their promises with kisses and touches, a glass of wine, a shot of tequila and a night in bed.
Meredith leaves early one morning before Addison wakes up. Meredith knows it’s not fair, but she’s never been good with goodbyes and she doesn’t trust that she’ll have the strength to leave otherwise.
She leaves Addison a note on her pillow, tells her thank you and says that Addison should call if she ever needs her.
Addison never calls. Meredith never expects her to.
Pairing: Addison/Meredith
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,556
Summary: After Derek leaves her, Meredith turns to an unlikely source for comfort. AU from somewhere before all the Zola stuff happened.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use.
Author’s Note: For
safertohateher (who requested no fluff) for the GA Secret Santa. I’ve never written Addison/Meredith before, but I gave it my best shot. I hope you like it!“What are you doing here, Meredith?”
There is such a tone of loathing in her voice and a look of annoyance in her eyes that Meredith immediately regrets every single part of this rash decision. Which really wasn’t even a decision. Or not a conscious decision anyway. Just a phone call to Mark and words spilling out and then, now, standing on Addison’s doorstep.
So definitely not a decision. But also definitely not a good choice.
But instead of turning around and slinking away, climbing back into the little red rental car and pretending this never happened ever, Meredith finds words spilling out of her mouth that she never intended to say.
“Derek left me.”
Addison doesn’t say a word, merely arching one of those amazingly high eyebrows of hers. Meredith feels her face flush.
“I thought you would understand,” Meredith mumbles.
She isn’t sure what she’s expecting, but Meredith doesn’t really think she was expecting Addison to step back and gesture her in. Meredith hesitates, but Addison is still looking at her with that expression of annoyance, so Meredith adjusts the strap of her one piece of luggage over her shoulder and hurries inside.
Neither woman says a word as Meredith follows Addison into a perfectly decorated living room. Meredith instantly notices the collection of empty wine bottles and a half-full wine glass, but she doesn’t say anything, just glances at Addison, who ignores her, sits on the couch, picks up her glass and offers Meredith a bottle of wine.
“I have tequila,” Meredith says.
“Of course you do,” Addison answers.
They drink in a silence that is awkward and uncomfortable, until it isn’t. Side by side, drowning unspoken demons in tequila and wine, the room growing blurry, eyelids getting heavy. Meredith has no concept of how much time has passed when the words slip past her lips.
“Are you okay, Addison?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Her answer comes immediately and harshly. Meredith just lifts the glass to her mouth again. She isn’t sure why she cares anyway. Maybe it’s simple curiosity. After all, Addison is wearing gray sweatpants with holes in them and a gray Yale sweatshirt that looks much too big on her, and the way her hair is clumped around her head, it almost looks like she maybe hasn’t showered in days.
But Meredith doesn’t press it. She has her own problems to deal with.
They fall into silence again. This time it’s Addison who breaks it.
“I’m sorry,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate.
Meredith turns her head to look at her. Addison is staring into her wine glass but she must see the question in Meredith’s eyes because she says, “About Derek. I know what that’s like.”
Meredith nods. “We’re better off without him.”
She’s not sure if she really believes that, but she says it anyway.
“Yeah,” Addison says darkly, but Meredith thinks she sees Addison’s shoulders slump a little more and she finds herself wondering again what exactly is wrong with the redhead beside her.
But neither one says another word as more minutes and hours pass, and the sky turns from blue to black. Finally, Addison shows Meredith to a guest room and Meredith falls into bed, letting the blissfulness of a dreamless sleep overtake her.
Meredith wakes up once when it’s still dark and thinks for a second that she hears the sound of crying, but decides she must be imagining things and falls back to sleep.
She wakes up for good around seven, head pounding, slightly groggy, a bit disoriented by the cream-colored silk sheets surrounding her. Images flash through her head — Derek’s angry words, a slamming door, a hastily packed suitcase, a drive she can’t remember, a call to Mark to see if he would give her Addison’s address for reasons she can’t even explain even to herself, the redhead in question answering the door, bottles of tequila and glasses of wine — and it all comes tumbling back. She thinks she should feel weird and uncomfortable, she thinks she should be sneaking out the door and getting into her car and pretending she was never here, but she doesn’t feel weird, and if she’s being honest with herself, she doesn’t really want to leave.
Instead, she trudges downstairs. She finds Addison sitting on the couch, already through a half bottle of wine.
“It’s seven in the morning,” Meredith says.
“So?” Addison answers and takes another sip. Which is more a gulp than a sip, and that’s when Meredith spots another empty bottle clutched in Addison’s hand.
“Maybe you should slow down,” she says.
“Maybe you should leave,” Addison snaps. She turns her head to glare at Meredith. There’s venom in her eyes.
“You’re not okay,” Meredith says.
Addison’s eyes darken even more. “I told you it’s none of your business. And I also told you to leave.”
Meredith doesn’t move. “And what if I don’t?”
Addison is shooting daggers at her by now, but Meredith isn’t intimidated. Which, if she would think about it, would strike her as a bit odd. Four years ago, she would have been running for cover if Addison looked at her the way she was looking at her right this second. But then again, four years ago, Derek leaving her would have turned her into a zombie who walked around the hospital looking like her life was over. Now, she’s almost more angry that she didn’t see his true colors earlier and instead wasted so much time on him than she is heartbroken and depressed.
“I can call the cops,” Addison says. “You’re trespassing.”
Meredith shrugs. “Go for it.”
She has no intention of backing down. Apparently, neither does Addison.
Addison’s eyes don’t leave Meredith’s face as she struggles to her feet, a half-full glass and an empty bottle still clutched in her hands. But whether it’s the combination of the objects in her hands or the amount of alcohol in her system, Meredith doesn’t know, but before Addison is even all the way upright, she sways and pitches forward.
Meredith reacts instantly, darting forward, but she’s not fast enough. Addison hits the ground hard, her hands out to catch herself, but she doesn’t let go of either the bottle or the glass, and they both shatter in her hands.
The blood appears instantly. So do the tears.
In the few seconds it takes Meredith to reach her, the blood has seemingly covered her hands and she’s sobbing, a combination of pain, fear and whatever it is that is haunting her.
Meredith takes hold of her arm, to try and assess the damage, but Addison isn’t having it. She pulls away from Meredith, fighting her off every time Meredith makes contact with her. She’s sobbing so hard she’s approaching hyperventilation.
Meredith kicks into doctor mode. She leaves Addison on the ground, ignoring the red stain that’s spreading across the carpet, and races to the kitchen, throwing open drawers until she finds the collection of kitchen towels.
She grabs a handful and hurries back. Addison hasn’t moved, but she’s gasping for air through her cries and the blood on the floor, and on her, seems to have doubled.
Meredith latches on to Addison’s left arm and, as expected, Addison tries to jerk away. But Meredith is prepared and grips her harder.
“Addison. Stop moving,” Her voice is loud and commanding. She’s a doctor now, not a girl who showed up on the doorstep of the woman whose marriage she ruined.
Surprisingly, the redhead listens. She doesn’t stop crying, but she does stop fighting. Meredith quickly wraps both of Addison’s hands in the dishtowels, then pulls her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist so she won’t fall over again. Addison is leaning heavily against Meredith’s shoulder, but she lets Meredith steer her toward the nearest bathroom.
Meredith settles Addison on the counter, so she can have a better view of her wounds. Addison is going to need stitches, of that Meredith is sure, judging by the amount of blood seeping through the towels.
A quick search under the sink reveals a first-aid kit, and Meredith gets to work, unwrapping towels, disinfecting cuts, stitching the deep ones, bandaging hands.
By the time she is done turning Addison’s hands into giant white mitts, Addison’s cries have quieted. She’s hiccupping a little and tears are dripping down her cheeks, but she’s calmer and she’s staring at Meredith with an expression Meredith can’t decipher.
“Thank you,” Addison whispers. It’s the first thing either of them has said in awhile.
Meredith smiles softly at her and reaches up a thumb to wipe away some of Addison’s tears. She isn’t sure why, but her fingers linger on Addison’s skin for way longer than necessary, and they are staring at each other, each almost willing the other to look away.
“You’ll be alright,” Meredith whispers back.
Addison shakes her head. “No, I won’t,” she says, almost inaudibly.
And then she leans forward.
Meredith is surprised, but not shocked. Not really. After all, what did she expect from two women who are known for using sex as an escape?
She feels the warmth of Addison’s lips on hers, and she responds. Meredith brings her other hand up to cup Addison’s cheek.
Their kisses are soft and warm and gentle. And searching. As though they are each trying to find something in the other.
Addison can’t use her hands, at least not really, so Meredith does the work for her. She pulls Addison’s blood-covered sweatshirt over her head and helps her remove the sweats that are now more of a rusty copper than gray. A few minutes later, Addison’s bra and panties join the pile.
It feels natural as Addison parts her legs and Meredith slips her fingers inside. Their lips barely leave the other’s, but Addison’s hands placed gently on Meredith’s sides, the movements of her hips against Meredith and her soft moans at Meredith’s ministrations tell Meredith all she needs to know. The whole thing is slow and gentle, and Meredith leaves her fingers in Addison as she comes down from her orgasm.
When they are done, and Meredith has finished as well, mostly from her own fingers but partly from knowing Addison was watching, they lie together on the bathroom floor. Meredith thinks she should say something, but before she can figure out what, Addison is crying again, and so Meredith settles for just holding her.
Addison falls asleep before she finishes crying, and Meredith strokes her fiery tresses while she whimpers in her sleep.
The sound of the door slamming as Derek walked out of her life, maybe forever, feels like a lifetime ago.
When Meredith finds her legs and arms growing numb from lying on the bathroom floor, the only cushion a blue furry rug, she nudges Addison awake and helps her walk upstairs to the bedroom.
Addison doesn’t ask her to stay, and Meredith doesn’t request permission, but there is no protestation when Meredith crawls into bed beside her. Instead, Addison snuggles into her arms, her head on Meredith’s chest and her breath warm on Meredith’s bare breasts.
Meredith rubs Addison’s back and listens to her breathe and tries to figure out what the hell she’s doing — what the hell they are both doing — but she falls asleep before she succeeds.
“He left me” is the first thing Meredith hears when she opens her eyes. Addison is facing her, her hand tucked under her chin, her eyes focused on Meredith. Apart from the fact that both her hands are completely swathed in white bandages, there is no trace that the woman staring at her is the same woman as the one drowning herself in wine yesterday morning. In fact, Meredith rather thinks Addison looks much more like the woman who used to walk the halls of Seattle Grace.
Addison’s eyes are clear, a deep ocean blue. Her eyes aren’t puffy, the tear tracks are gone. Even her hair seems to be lying much more perfectly around her head. Meredith wonders for a second if Addison got out of bed and cleaned herself up, but Meredith is pretty sure that Addison’s bandaged hands would have prevented her from doing that even if she had been so inclined.
“Sam,” Addison clarifies now, once she sees that Meredith’s eyes are open. “We were together. He told me he loved me and that he’d never leave me. But I wanted kids. I wanted kids and he didn’t.”
She pauses at this, and Meredith nods, to show her she’s listening.
“I started IVF. It took a long time. But I got pregnant. The day I told Sam, he left me. Two weeks later, I had a miscarriage. No one knew I was pregnant but Sam. No one knew about the miscarriage.”
“I’m sorry,” Meredith says.
“That was eight days ago,” Addison says.
Meredith doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she reaches out and grasps one of Addison’s hands, squeezes it a little.
“Are you going to be okay?” Meredith asks.
Addison shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
They are quiet for a bit, watching each other.
“You should leave,” Addison finally says.
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You know that’s not true. Go back to Seattle. Go back to your friends.”
“Derek is there,” Meredith says.
“You’re stronger than Derek,” Addison says. “You’re better than him.”
“I could stay,” Meredith says.
Addison smiles. “I’m not what you came here for.”
“You could be what I stay here for.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
Meredith wants to argue, but she knows Addison is right.
“I could stay for you for a little while,” she finally says.
Addison purses her lips. Meredith knows she’s thinking about it.
“Okay,” she says. “I’d like that.”
*****
Meredith stays for three weeks. During that time, they talk, they kiss, they have sex. Actually, they have a lot of sex. But they also confide things in each other they’ve never confided in anyone else. Meredith thinks they maybe even fall in love a little. Of course, they would never say that, though.
But three weeks after she arrives, Meredith knows it’s time to go. Cristina has called every day for the past seven days to ask when Meredith is coming back. Addison’s bandages have come off, and even though her hands aren’t healed, she can use them again without wincing in pain.
Meredith makes Addison promise that she’ll be okay, that she won’t drink herself into a stupor every night on the couch, that she’ll go back to work. That she’ll be okay.
Addison makes Meredith promise that she won’t give up on love, that she won’t let Derek make her feel bad about herself or who she is, that she’ll live her life the way she wants. That she’ll be okay.
They seal their promises with kisses and touches, a glass of wine, a shot of tequila and a night in bed.
Meredith leaves early one morning before Addison wakes up. Meredith knows it’s not fair, but she’s never been good with goodbyes and she doesn’t trust that she’ll have the strength to leave otherwise.
She leaves Addison a note on her pillow, tells her thank you and says that Addison should call if she ever needs her.
Addison never calls. Meredith never expects her to.
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Date: 2012-01-03 11:16 pm (UTC)This is perfect. There are few things I love more than angsty Meredith/Addison, because they are pretty much the epitome of awesomeness. I love that Meredith's gut reaction after Derek leaves is to go to Addison, because she'll understand, and it's so reminiscent of the Meredith-on-morphine logic in season three. And just like she did back then, Addison listens, and helps, even though she doesn't want to, even though she tries to hate Meredith but can't bring herself to in the end, and you have shown that so beautifully here. Meredith thinks they maybe even fall in love a little. THIS, THIS FOREVER PLEASE.
My heart was literally breaking for Addison the whole time I was reading, because that's three children she's lost now, if you count Lucas, and she wants one so badly. And Meredith gets it, 'cause she lost a baby, too, and she knows what to do and say and how to take care of her, and the comfort sex was gorgeous (and hot, because: When they are done, and Meredith has finished as well, mostly from her own fingers but partly from knowing Addison was watching may have made me die a little.) Meredith taking care of her as both a doctor and a sort-of-friend rings so true for her character, and her refusal to go even though Addison threatens to have her arrested shows just how much she has grown and how much she really cares. It's so canon that I can see that whole scene with the broken glass and the blood and the stitching and the sex insanely vividly in my head. (And I love it.)
And the ending. Oh, God, the ending. Dying. So in character and so sad and so inevitable all at the same time, and even though I want them to have comfort sex every time Sam or Derek are douchey, it wouldn't happen that way, and the realism of this is better than the alternative.
Thank you so much for this. It's beautiful. Best Christmas present ever ♥
Thank you
Date: 2020-07-02 10:13 am (UTC)This is glorious and breathtaking.
I've always felt comfort sex vibes but I've never been able to bring myself to write it until now. I'm working on two similar pieces to this; Lost & Found about MerAdd hurt comfort sex then fall in love after prom, and Love The Way You Lie about Meredith and Addison and a very very bad Derek.
Anyway, if you want to read those, search bobbiejelly on Ao3, Wattpad or Fanfiction whichever you're into. Links on my bio.
BUT BACK TO YOU:
The parts that safertohateher said are the parts I enjoy the most also!
I love Meredith stiching up Addison as an imagery.
I love Meredith and Addison falling in love a little bit. (A LOT BIT!?)
And I love that the girl-girl thing just isn't a big deal because I don't think for either of them that it really is.
And I love how Meredith proposes staying for a little while and Addison accepts that. Mer can tell everything's wrong. Addison can tell everything's wrong. And they make each other stronger. BRAVO.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-04 07:09 am (UTC)Loved this!
YES
Date: 2020-07-03 12:30 pm (UTC)Take care, this is so lovely. I love how Meredith stays just for a little while.