fragments - addison/jack (lost x-over), rabvjMay 25 2010, 04:01:50 UTC
Addison goes to LA because Derek left her and she left Mark and Naomi had sighed over the line and said come on. You need this. Let me take care of you and that was all it really took to get her onto a plane and across the country. It’s fun, of course, albeit nowhere helpful, and a week in she has had enough of the sunshine and smiles and patronizing it’s gonna be okays. So sits at LAX, scotch between her palms, the diamonds of her engagement ring glinting against the golden sun, thinking about things she should not be thinking about.
There’s a man sitting next to her, nursing a beer. This is her third scotch and it is not surprising at all that she leans in and smiles, teeth bare as she says, Hi, I’m Addison, like she’s been doing this all her life. It takes a second, a look of appraisal and something akin to apprehension, but there is the eventual smile and in five minutes flat she knows he is Jack, a surgeon, California born and raised. He is on his way to Australia for reasons he doesn’t offer and she doesn’t care to ask because that is not how these sorts of stories go.
He seems like a nice enough guy. Dark hair, hard underneath the layers, and he reminds her a little of Derek in a way she can’t pinpoint. She pops a pretzel in her mouth and recrosses her legs.
One of them (it doesn’t really matter who) leans in and says, want to get out of here? all low and throaty, her bare knee brushing his covered one.
Addison checks her watch and smiles. She’s got time.
__
They fuck in a bathroom somewhere close to the bar, in the last stall on the left, her back against the wall, her legs around his waist. He pushes into her without permission, face buried into her neck and she closes her eyes and thinks of somebody else the entire time. Comes hot and fast, blinding with her thumb on her clit and mouth biting into his shoulder.
After, her legs drop to the floor and she readjusts her skirt. In the mirror she adjusts her make-up, lipstick smeared at the corner of her mouth, and looks up to see him watching her.
He nods to her left hand, fingers thumbing his tie effortlessly. “You married?” he asks, like it matters, and she just shrugs.
“My husband left me. Or I left him,” she pauses and laughs in the most inappropriate way and there is a dull ache the coils in the back of her mind from the scotch ebbing away. “It is all little blurry.”
He says nothing in response.
__
On their way back from the bathroom she leads the way through the crowds, clutch and boarding pass under her arm, him always a step behind her. He stops at the proverbial fork in the road, carry on slung over his left shoulder.
“This is me,” he says and they look at each other for a moment, awkward and unsure of what to say or do, and Addison just smiles.
“My husband left me. Or I left him,” she pauses and laughs in the most inappropriate way and there is a dull ache the coils in the back of her mind from the scotch ebbing away. “It is all little blurry.”
There’s a man sitting next to her, nursing a beer. This is her third scotch and it is not surprising at all that she leans in and smiles, teeth bare as she says, Hi, I’m Addison, like she’s been doing this all her life. It takes a second, a look of appraisal and something akin to apprehension, but there is the eventual smile and in five minutes flat she knows he is Jack, a surgeon, California born and raised. He is on his way to Australia for reasons he doesn’t offer and she doesn’t care to ask because that is not how these sorts of stories go.
He seems like a nice enough guy. Dark hair, hard underneath the layers, and he reminds her a little of Derek in a way she can’t pinpoint. She pops a pretzel in her mouth and recrosses her legs.
One of them (it doesn’t really matter who) leans in and says, want to get out of here? all low and throaty, her bare knee brushing his covered one.
Addison checks her watch and smiles. She’s got time.
__
They fuck in a bathroom somewhere close to the bar, in the last stall on the left, her back against the wall, her legs around his waist. He pushes into her without permission, face buried into her neck and she closes her eyes and thinks of somebody else the entire time. Comes hot and fast, blinding with her thumb on her clit and mouth biting into his shoulder.
After, her legs drop to the floor and she readjusts her skirt. In the mirror she adjusts her make-up, lipstick smeared at the corner of her mouth, and looks up to see him watching her.
He nods to her left hand, fingers thumbing his tie effortlessly. “You married?” he asks, like it matters, and she just shrugs.
“My husband left me. Or I left him,” she pauses and laughs in the most inappropriate way and there is a dull ache the coils in the back of her mind from the scotch ebbing away. “It is all little blurry.”
He says nothing in response.
__
On their way back from the bathroom she leads the way through the crowds, clutch and boarding pass under her arm, him always a step behind her. He stops at the proverbial fork in the road, carry on slung over his left shoulder.
“This is me,” he says and they look at each other for a moment, awkward and unsure of what to say or do, and Addison just smiles.
“Have a good flight,” she murmurs.
She goes left and he goes right.
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“My husband left me. Or I left him,” she pauses and laughs in the most inappropriate way and there is a dull ache the coils in the back of her mind from the scotch ebbing away. “It is all little blurry.”
that part in particular felt very Addison to me.
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