Addison sat alone at a corner booth, slowly playing with the edges of her napkin. She had driven back to her hotel after her shift was through, only to turn around and head to her favorite bar for some comfort
( Read more... )
Addison wrinkled her nose in her sleep and pulled the covers up to her neck before sighing deeply. The firm wheezing noise coming from behind her showed no signs of stopping. Groaning, she fumbled with the blanket and turned onto her back. A long snort escaped his throat and Addison elbowed Mark in the ribs, gently at first, but then with a little more force when he refused to comply with her opaque demand. "Mmm, stoooop," she whined weakly, absently lifting a hand to his face in order to nudge his jaw while she kicked her feet in a small fit.
Mark awoke to feeling pushed and rattled. Gradually he became aware other sensations-- the crick in his neck from sleeping on his side on a sofa, the weight resting on him, being kicked...
"What?" he groaned finally opening his eyes, peering down at Addison.
Addison raised her arms over her head and dug her feet into the armrest of the couch, stretching. "Snoring, you were," she murmured incoherently, opening her eyes and squinting up at him. But her pupils widened a little in alarm when she felt their impossibly close proximity (her side was completely pressed into him), the arm still draped over her stomach (and curled around her, holding onto her waist), and the piercing pain in her head (a sign of alcohol which was never a comfort to wake up to).
"Sorry," Mark grumbled, shifting to hide his face behind her neck to shield his eyes from the bright morning light streaming through the cheap blinds. He clamped his eyes shut and Addison's hair tickled his face.
Anything to keep the day at bay and gain an extra five minutes.
Mark pulled her close, his nose brushing her skin where her neck and shoulder met. "Go back to sleep, babe," his breath kissed her skin and he buried his face. As he felt sleep beginning to wash over him again, he hadn't even given a thought to mumbling the former term of endearment, the events from the night before still resting in the fringes of his consciousness.
"Um," Addison gulped as Mark nuzzled into her. She cocked an eyebrow as she felt herself being pulled closer to him, and with a mix of distress and disapproval, her eyes followed his every motion while she dared not move.
'What?' she mouthed in silent alarm to the ceiling she lay staring at when Mark whispered his casual suggestion into her neck, her entire body instantly freezing up. 'Babe?' she repeated it in her head, aghast. In the back of her mind, Addison could find a small trace of a lie if she were to say there wasn't an old familiar feeling that this word arose when coming from Mark's lips. But as she lay there, unmoving, all she could focus on was the increasing speed of her breathing
( ... )
Mark blinked slowly, trying to stifle a loud yawn. "Fine," he groaned, cracking his neck. His back and neck ached in protest from being contorted while sleeping awkwardly on the sofa. But it was worth it, he decided, opening his eyes to see her sitting next to him on the sofa. He squinted up at Addison. His lips curled into a sleepy, lopsided grin. "Morning," he croaked out
( ... )
Addison wasn't exactly avoiding looking at him, but she was a little lost in her thoughts.
"Yeah?" She breathed, her head snapping to face him, "Good morning." But her voice was detached and hollow, a little raspy from having just woken up. Or it might have been all the crying from the previous night. She didn't give him a chance to say anything else as her eyes scanned the room, her hands straightening out the boxers she was wearing, tugging at the plaid hems to fix where they had rolled up during the night. "Is there a um, clock anywhere? Do you have the time?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah, I'll check," he moved to roll onto the edge of the sofa, but before he pushed himself up, his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her to him and pressing a lingering kiss against her temple.
He winked at her before disappearing into the kitchen to check the microwave clock.
"We've got a little over an hour," he called into the living room, sliding the coffee maker down the counter and searching for that French Vanilla crap Addison liked. He hadn't wanted to analyse why he bought it at the grocery store, but now he was he had. He pulled the silver seal off the can and spooned the grounds into the filter, gagging as the strong vanilla scent wafted to his nose.
"Do you want to shower here," he offered, "and we can swing by your place so you can change?"
Addison inhaled a large gush of air, holding it in her lungs for a couple of seconds before gradually letting it out. She still felt exhausted, some six hours of sleep could hardly make up for her insomnia the night before. Glancing at the yellowish light pouring out of what she guessed would be the kitchen, she raised her hand, fingers brushing over her forehead where his lips still lingered. It wasn't their typical early morning. Their clothes weren't scattered around the room but rather draped over their bodies. Mark seemed to have replaced his usual wisecracks and suggestions of "being a little late to work" with kisses on the forehead and an offer of coffee (she guessed by the aroma filling the apartment). It wasn't completely common place and Addison bit her lip as she tried to figure out how she should behave and what she should say to him
( ... )
Mark grinned over his shoulder at her, a mischievous smirk serving as her only answer. He was practically daring her to ask him what it meant that he had it.
But she was there, in his kitchen, standing next to him. It must've been a new all-time Seattle record for how long she'd stayed in his presence after spending the night with him. Granted, the 'night before' usually included sex, an ingredient which, Mark noted, was all too absent from the previous evening. But still, she was there, and she wasn't running, and Mark felt that he should toe the boundary a little, partially to see where it was and how much he could get away with, and partially because if it fail and she fled, he could rest assured that his self-destructive patterns were still perfectly in tact.
He maneuvered around her, letting his hand rest longer than usual and a little lower than he would normally as he opened a cabinet and pulled out two coffee mugs.
In a way she marveled at his aloof air, at the way he didn't seem to question the oddity of the moment. But along with awe she was starting to feel a little unnerved. They were not a couple, and the fact that she spent the night in his arms couldn't possibly have given him the permission to jump to such conclusions. After all, it was no ordinary day and she was sure he might have needed her as much as she needed him.
She stiffened upon his touch, her breath catching in her throat. "What are you doing?" she asked in a warning voice, staring down at his hand.
Mark pulled back, looking at her quizzically. "Why?"
She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off, raising an index finger. "Give me one good reason for me to stop," he challenged.
Mark pulled away, leaning against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. "And then ask yourself if you'd really want me to stop. If you'd really want me to stop."
Addison shifted uncomfortably, folding her arms defensively across her chest. A chuckle escaped her throat but she remained stumped on what to say. She eyed him carefully, taken aback by the humorless tone in which he spoke. She could have hated him for it right there.
"What are you implying?" she asked, tactfully, tilting her head to the side.
"There's a line, Addison," he said firmly. "There's a line and every time we do this-"
He groaned grabbing two mugs from the cabinet and roughly setting them on the table.
"God we didn't even have sex and you're acting like, agh," he raked his fingers through his hair before grabbing the fresh pot of coffee, pouring the hot brown liquid into the cups. Coffee spilled over the edges and onto the counter, but he made no move to clean it up. "Is it so unreasonable to think that I would eventually get sick of this constant cycle running to me and then running away?"
Reply
"What?" he groaned finally opening his eyes, peering down at Addison.
Reply
Reply
Anything to keep the day at bay and gain an extra five minutes.
Mark pulled her close, his nose brushing her skin where her neck and shoulder met. "Go back to sleep, babe," his breath kissed her skin and he buried his face. As he felt sleep beginning to wash over him again, he hadn't even given a thought to mumbling the former term of endearment, the events from the night before still resting in the fringes of his consciousness.
Reply
'What?' she mouthed in silent alarm to the ceiling she lay staring at when Mark whispered his casual suggestion into her neck, her entire body instantly freezing up. 'Babe?' she repeated it in her head, aghast. In the back of her mind, Addison could find a small trace of a lie if she were to say there wasn't an old familiar feeling that this word arose when coming from Mark's lips. But as she lay there, unmoving, all she could focus on was the increasing speed of her breathing ( ... )
Reply
Reply
"Yeah?" She breathed, her head snapping to face him, "Good morning." But her voice was detached and hollow, a little raspy from having just woken up. Or it might have been all the crying from the previous night. She didn't give him a chance to say anything else as her eyes scanned the room, her hands straightening out the boxers she was wearing, tugging at the plaid hems to fix where they had rolled up during the night. "Is there a um, clock anywhere? Do you have the time?" she asked.
Reply
He winked at her before disappearing into the kitchen to check the microwave clock.
"We've got a little over an hour," he called into the living room, sliding the coffee maker down the counter and searching for that French Vanilla crap Addison liked. He hadn't wanted to analyse why he bought it at the grocery store, but now he was he had. He pulled the silver seal off the can and spooned the grounds into the filter, gagging as the strong vanilla scent wafted to his nose.
"Do you want to shower here," he offered, "and we can swing by your place so you can change?"
Reply
Reply
But she was there, in his kitchen, standing next to him. It must've been a new all-time Seattle record for how long she'd stayed in his presence after spending the night with him. Granted, the 'night before' usually included sex, an ingredient which, Mark noted, was all too absent from the previous evening. But still, she was there, and she wasn't running, and Mark felt that he should toe the boundary a little, partially to see where it was and how much he could get away with, and partially because if it fail and she fled, he could rest assured that his self-destructive patterns were still perfectly in tact.
He maneuvered around her, letting his hand rest longer than usual and a little lower than he would normally as he opened a cabinet and pulled out two coffee mugs.
Reply
She stiffened upon his touch, her breath catching in her throat. "What are you doing?" she asked in a warning voice, staring down at his hand.
Reply
"Do you want to be doing something else?" he suggested, leaning close, his nose a breath from hers.
Reply
"Stop," she whispered firmly through her teeth, her eyes closed and her hands gripping the counter tightly, "Please, just stop it."
Reply
She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off, raising an index finger. "Give me one good reason for me to stop," he challenged.
Mark pulled away, leaning against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. "And then ask yourself if you'd really want me to stop. If you'd really want me to stop."
Reply
"What are you implying?" she asked, tactfully, tilting her head to the side.
Reply
He groaned grabbing two mugs from the cabinet and roughly setting them on the table.
"God we didn't even have sex and you're acting like, agh," he raked his fingers through his hair before grabbing the fresh pot of coffee, pouring the hot brown liquid into the cups. Coffee spilled over the edges and onto the counter, but he made no move to clean it up. "Is it so unreasonable to think that I would eventually get sick of this constant cycle running to me and then running away?"
Reply
Leave a comment