Simple Things
Title: Simple Things
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Summary: Though a slight chill seeps in from the window, and she reminds herself again to ask her landlord to please re-seal the windows before it gets too much colder, she pushes back the edge of the curtain to watch the snow fall. Her view distorted by glare from the floor lamp next to her, she reaches over and turns off the lamp, encasing her entire apartment in darkness except for light drifting in from the streetlamps outside. Pre-show friendship fic.
Secret Santa: for literary_critic.
Her genetics book lying closed, but bookmarked with a capped highlighter, on the tiny table on the other side of the small kitchen, Addison yawns and sets the teakettle on the stove she doesn’t trust to do anything besides boil water. She turns the knob to high and leans against the counter; even if watching it means that she’ll feel like she’s waiting longer, she’s determined to lift the kettle off the stove before it has a chance to start whistling and wake up the two sleeping members of her study group. Staying near to the stove with an ear cautiously alert for the tell-tale sounds of boiling water, she searches through the cabinets for a clean mug and drops a bag of chamomile tea into it, returning to her watchful post near the stove.
Slightly distracted by the snow beginning to fall outside and the patterns made by the frost on the windows, she nearly misses the water boiling and the tea kettle whistles for a few seconds after she frantically grabs it off the stove. Turning off the burner with one hand, she carefully pours hot water into her mug, the scent of herbal chamomile immediately filling the air, and sets the kettle on a cool burner once she’s filled her mug with enough water.
Addison carefully makes her way across the kitchen and into the living room, wishing for socks the moment her feet hit the hardwood floors that permeate the rest of the apartment, and sinks into a cushiony chair that she rescued from the side of the road during her junior year of college. She tucks her feet under her and picks a blanket off of the floor to wrap around her, settling into the chair to her enjoy her tea before crawling into bed next to her boyfriend and sleeping until a few hours before their first final in the morning. Though a slight chill seeps in from the window, and she reminds herself again to ask her landlord to please re-seal the windows before it gets too much colder, she pushes back the edge of the curtain to watch the snow fall. Her view distorted by glare from the floor lamp next to her, she reaches over and turns off the lamp, encasing her entire apartment in darkness except for light drifting in from the streetlamps outside.
“Why are you still up?”
A gruff, sleep-filled voice from the doorway stirs her from her reverie, though doesn’t startle her enough to spill her tea. She turns from the window to smile at the man silhouetted by the bathroom light. “I just finished. I’m hoping this,” she holds up her mug, “will counteract the pot of coffee I just drank and I’ll be asleep soon.”
He shakes his head at his best friend’s girlfriend, unable to comprehend her ability to drink an entire pot of coffee and not be jittery and bouncing off the walls. He flips off the bathroom light, having intended to use it as a guide to get to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, and sits on the couch close to her. “Your floor is really hard,” he says without scorn or accusation and cracks his neck. Though at least he has a sleeping bag and a couple of pillows, he’s envious of his two friends whenever their study sessions last long into the early hours of the morning and he decides to sleep over instead of riding his bike the two miles back to his apartment.
She looks at him with a soft sigh. “I told you you could have the couch and I could work in the other room.” Her initial frustration with only being able to find a two-bedroom apartment near their campus dissipated when she recognized the extra closet space that wouldn’t need to be shared and the bonus in having a space where other people could sleep, though she hasn’t yet gotten around to finding a couch or any furniture besides a desk and a decidedly uncomfortable desk chair for the room.
“No,” he says quietly, shaking his head again. “You were already set up out here. It’s fine. But,” he stops to smirk at her in the dark, “if I fail tomorrow, I’m gonna blame you and your uncomfortable floor.”
“You are not going to fail tomorrow,” she says.
He chuckles quietly. “I went to bed because I gave up, not because I knew it all.”
She picks up a pillow and lightly smacks him with it. “You say that before every test. And you’ve done almost better than me on every test this semester.”
“First time for everything.” He stifles a yawn and catches her doing the same. “Like you going to bed before dawn.” He eyes her sternly in the darkness, convinced that she’d survive entirely on coffee and cold Chinese food and never sleep if it weren’t for him playing the role of her surrogate older brother while she’s out of arm’s reach of her family.
Addison smiles sheepishly, choosing to quietly sip her tea instead of pointing out the four times in the past three weeks that she’s fallen asleep before the sun’s had a chance to peek above the horizon. She cups her hands around the heated ceramic and tries to push all thoughts of genetics and biochemistry and chromosomal math to the back of her mind so her precious few hours of sleep can be peaceful instead of stressed.
Sensing that she needs a few minutes alone to finish detoxing from their all-day study session before calling it a night, he stands up. He places a friendly kiss on her forehead. “We’ll make it,” he assures her, calming her unspoken fears about what the rest of their lives will hold if, after their first semester of medical school, she can count the number of times she’s gone to sleep before sunrise in a month on one hand.
She looks up at him with a quiet smile, a lock of hair falling into her face. “Thank you.”
He smiles back. “Goodnight, Addison.”
“Goodnight, Mark.”
zero 7 :: simple things
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mark/Addison
Summary: Though a slight chill seeps in from the window, and she reminds herself again to ask her landlord to please re-seal the windows before it gets too much colder, she pushes back the edge of the curtain to watch the snow fall. Her view distorted by glare from the floor lamp next to her, she reaches over and turns off the lamp, encasing her entire apartment in darkness except for light drifting in from the streetlamps outside. Pre-show friendship fic.
Secret Santa: for literary_critic.
Her genetics book lying closed, but bookmarked with a capped highlighter, on the tiny table on the other side of the small kitchen, Addison yawns and sets the teakettle on the stove she doesn’t trust to do anything besides boil water. She turns the knob to high and leans against the counter; even if watching it means that she’ll feel like she’s waiting longer, she’s determined to lift the kettle off the stove before it has a chance to start whistling and wake up the two sleeping members of her study group. Staying near to the stove with an ear cautiously alert for the tell-tale sounds of boiling water, she searches through the cabinets for a clean mug and drops a bag of chamomile tea into it, returning to her watchful post near the stove.
Slightly distracted by the snow beginning to fall outside and the patterns made by the frost on the windows, she nearly misses the water boiling and the tea kettle whistles for a few seconds after she frantically grabs it off the stove. Turning off the burner with one hand, she carefully pours hot water into her mug, the scent of herbal chamomile immediately filling the air, and sets the kettle on a cool burner once she’s filled her mug with enough water.
Addison carefully makes her way across the kitchen and into the living room, wishing for socks the moment her feet hit the hardwood floors that permeate the rest of the apartment, and sinks into a cushiony chair that she rescued from the side of the road during her junior year of college. She tucks her feet under her and picks a blanket off of the floor to wrap around her, settling into the chair to her enjoy her tea before crawling into bed next to her boyfriend and sleeping until a few hours before their first final in the morning. Though a slight chill seeps in from the window, and she reminds herself again to ask her landlord to please re-seal the windows before it gets too much colder, she pushes back the edge of the curtain to watch the snow fall. Her view distorted by glare from the floor lamp next to her, she reaches over and turns off the lamp, encasing her entire apartment in darkness except for light drifting in from the streetlamps outside.
“Why are you still up?”
A gruff, sleep-filled voice from the doorway stirs her from her reverie, though doesn’t startle her enough to spill her tea. She turns from the window to smile at the man silhouetted by the bathroom light. “I just finished. I’m hoping this,” she holds up her mug, “will counteract the pot of coffee I just drank and I’ll be asleep soon.”
He shakes his head at his best friend’s girlfriend, unable to comprehend her ability to drink an entire pot of coffee and not be jittery and bouncing off the walls. He flips off the bathroom light, having intended to use it as a guide to get to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, and sits on the couch close to her. “Your floor is really hard,” he says without scorn or accusation and cracks his neck. Though at least he has a sleeping bag and a couple of pillows, he’s envious of his two friends whenever their study sessions last long into the early hours of the morning and he decides to sleep over instead of riding his bike the two miles back to his apartment.
She looks at him with a soft sigh. “I told you you could have the couch and I could work in the other room.” Her initial frustration with only being able to find a two-bedroom apartment near their campus dissipated when she recognized the extra closet space that wouldn’t need to be shared and the bonus in having a space where other people could sleep, though she hasn’t yet gotten around to finding a couch or any furniture besides a desk and a decidedly uncomfortable desk chair for the room.
“No,” he says quietly, shaking his head again. “You were already set up out here. It’s fine. But,” he stops to smirk at her in the dark, “if I fail tomorrow, I’m gonna blame you and your uncomfortable floor.”
“You are not going to fail tomorrow,” she says.
He chuckles quietly. “I went to bed because I gave up, not because I knew it all.”
She picks up a pillow and lightly smacks him with it. “You say that before every test. And you’ve done almost better than me on every test this semester.”
“First time for everything.” He stifles a yawn and catches her doing the same. “Like you going to bed before dawn.” He eyes her sternly in the darkness, convinced that she’d survive entirely on coffee and cold Chinese food and never sleep if it weren’t for him playing the role of her surrogate older brother while she’s out of arm’s reach of her family.
Addison smiles sheepishly, choosing to quietly sip her tea instead of pointing out the four times in the past three weeks that she’s fallen asleep before the sun’s had a chance to peek above the horizon. She cups her hands around the heated ceramic and tries to push all thoughts of genetics and biochemistry and chromosomal math to the back of her mind so her precious few hours of sleep can be peaceful instead of stressed.
Sensing that she needs a few minutes alone to finish detoxing from their all-day study session before calling it a night, he stands up. He places a friendly kiss on her forehead. “We’ll make it,” he assures her, calming her unspoken fears about what the rest of their lives will hold if, after their first semester of medical school, she can count the number of times she’s gone to sleep before sunrise in a month on one hand.
She looks up at him with a quiet smile, a lock of hair falling into her face. “Thank you.”
He smiles back. “Goodnight, Addison.”
“Goodnight, Mark.”
zero 7 :: simple things