Challenge 18: I Drabble, You Drabble
Title: Six Addek Drabbles (sort of)
Pairing: Addison/Derek, Addison/Sam
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,117 for all six drabbles
Summary: Six drabbles that tell the story of Addison & Derek through the years. Can be read individually but they go together. Definitely anti-Addisam as though you all expected anything different.
Author’s Note: Format shamelessly stolen from waltzmatildah.
“You’re damn lucky that I love you so much. Otherwise, I’d kick the crap out of you.”
He opens his eyes to find his wife leaning over him, her red curls tickling his face. She does not look pleased. Her blue eyes are narrowed, and she is definitely scowling at him.
He tries to reach up to rub his head - It’s throbbing and he feels something rough and a bit scratchy up by his hairline. He’s thinking a bandage - but she’s got her hands clamped down on his wrists and she doesn’t appear to be letting go anytime soon.
“Addie,” he starts, but he trails off as her eyes practically sear holes straight through him.
“What were you thinking?” she hisses. “Jumping into the middle of a damn street fight. You could have been killed!”
“I wasn’t,” he protests weakly.
Her hands tighten on his arms.
“I hate that you always have to play the hero,” she says softly. “Please don’t do that to me again. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”
••••••
He understands now. He gets it, perfectly, devastatingly well. When she told him how scared she was, when she made him promise to be more careful - well, she was just being Addison. That’s what he told himself. She was freaking out over something she didn’t need to be. She was overreacting.
Except she wasn’t. And he gets that now.
Because as they wheel her down the hall, so pale and so frighteningly still underneath the thin white sheet, he feels like he can’t breath, like his world is spinning out from under him.
Because he can’t imagine a life without her. He can’t imagine not fighting with her over who gets the last piece of toast or why she feels the need to leave her hundreds of pairs of shoes all over the floor.
And even though the doctors pat him on the shoulder and reassure him that she’s going to be fine, the only thing he wants to do is hold her in his arms and tell her how sorry he is for not believing her when she told him.
••••••
She really, really hates that look.
The way he tilts his head, the way his lips turn up, the way his eyes seem to be staring into her soul, the way he makes her feel like she’s the only girl in the world, like she’s the only one who will ever matter.
She used to think it was the most magical look in the world, but she knows better now.
She hates that he uses it to control her. She hates that he uses it to get his way. She hates that he knows that she can never say no when he looks at her with those eyes.
She hates it.
Because she wants to say no. She wants to say don’t leave. She wants to tell him to stop playing the hero and to stay home with her. She wants to say that she needs him more than that stranger on the operating room table.
But she can’t. Because he gives her that look, and she can’t say no.
So she lets him go. He stops at the door, turns around and gives her that look, tells her thanks for understanding.
She really, really hates that look.
••••••
She fights. Hard.
He knew she would. Addison doesn’t give up easily. It’s one of the things he used to love most about her. She would never quit, at least not willingly.
He remembers having to literally drag her out of the OR the first time she lost a patient. She staunchly refused to stop CPR, because she was so sure she could still save her. The attendings had all shaken their heads sadly as he had come to save her from herself, but he had been secretly proud of her. He knew that fight would turn her into a great surgeon someday.
And it had.
But now he wishes she would stop fighting. Wishes she would just let go. It would be so much easier, on both of them.
He knows she’s fighting hard enough for the two of them. He knows it’s the least he could do to help her out. But he can’t. He’s so past ready to call time of death.
But she keeps fighting. And he can’t help being secretly proud of her for doing so.
••••••
“Shh…” he whispers, hands in her hair, “I’ve got you…”
She doesn’t notice how tight he’s gripping her. Nor does she realize he’s practically got her locked beside him, unable to move unless he gives her permission to.
It’s been a long time since she’s been in a healthy relationship. If you could call any of her relationships healthy. She thinks it was, with Derek, in the beginning. Before things got complicated. Before things got messy.
All she knows now is she wants someone to notice her, wants someone to see her, wants someone to want her.
She thinks Sam does. He tells her he does anyway, and she chooses to believe him. She’s tired of believing otherwise.
So she looks for the good, sees how he talks about their future, sees how he makes plans for the both of them.
She doesn’t notice when things go bad, doesn’t see the signs that something isn’t right.
And then nothing is right. And there is no way out. And it’s much too late.
He has her, and she can’t do anything to change that.
••••••
He has never been very good at playing the hero when it comes to her, even though he excels when it comes to everyone else. His mother. His sisters. His patients. Meredith.
But not when it comes to her.
He used to like to think it was because they were equals. Neither one of them needed saving.
He thinks now it might be because she always seemed so strong. He always figured she could handle it.
But this time it’s different.
When Charlotte King, of all people, calls him up, he doesn’t even hesitate. And two minutes after he arrives, he sees what everyone has been talking about.
Sam grabs her arm. Hard. He punches him in the face.
Hard.
She stares up at him, tears dripping down her cheeks.
“Derek?” she whispers.
She sounds so small, so broken.
“Shhhh, you’re okay,” he whispers as he pulls her into his arms. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
“Thank you for saving me,” she tells him six months later when he slips the little diamond on to her finger.
“You’re worth saving,” he tells her. And this time he means it with every fiber of his being.
Pairing: Addison/Derek, Addison/Sam
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,117 for all six drabbles
Summary: Six drabbles that tell the story of Addison & Derek through the years. Can be read individually but they go together. Definitely anti-Addisam as though you all expected anything different.
Author’s Note: Format shamelessly stolen from waltzmatildah.
“You’re damn lucky that I love you so much. Otherwise, I’d kick the crap out of you.”
He opens his eyes to find his wife leaning over him, her red curls tickling his face. She does not look pleased. Her blue eyes are narrowed, and she is definitely scowling at him.
He tries to reach up to rub his head - It’s throbbing and he feels something rough and a bit scratchy up by his hairline. He’s thinking a bandage - but she’s got her hands clamped down on his wrists and she doesn’t appear to be letting go anytime soon.
“Addie,” he starts, but he trails off as her eyes practically sear holes straight through him.
“What were you thinking?” she hisses. “Jumping into the middle of a damn street fight. You could have been killed!”
“I wasn’t,” he protests weakly.
Her hands tighten on his arms.
“I hate that you always have to play the hero,” she says softly. “Please don’t do that to me again. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”
••••••
He understands now. He gets it, perfectly, devastatingly well. When she told him how scared she was, when she made him promise to be more careful - well, she was just being Addison. That’s what he told himself. She was freaking out over something she didn’t need to be. She was overreacting.
Except she wasn’t. And he gets that now.
Because as they wheel her down the hall, so pale and so frighteningly still underneath the thin white sheet, he feels like he can’t breath, like his world is spinning out from under him.
Because he can’t imagine a life without her. He can’t imagine not fighting with her over who gets the last piece of toast or why she feels the need to leave her hundreds of pairs of shoes all over the floor.
And even though the doctors pat him on the shoulder and reassure him that she’s going to be fine, the only thing he wants to do is hold her in his arms and tell her how sorry he is for not believing her when she told him.
••••••
She really, really hates that look.
The way he tilts his head, the way his lips turn up, the way his eyes seem to be staring into her soul, the way he makes her feel like she’s the only girl in the world, like she’s the only one who will ever matter.
She used to think it was the most magical look in the world, but she knows better now.
She hates that he uses it to control her. She hates that he uses it to get his way. She hates that he knows that she can never say no when he looks at her with those eyes.
She hates it.
Because she wants to say no. She wants to say don’t leave. She wants to tell him to stop playing the hero and to stay home with her. She wants to say that she needs him more than that stranger on the operating room table.
But she can’t. Because he gives her that look, and she can’t say no.
So she lets him go. He stops at the door, turns around and gives her that look, tells her thanks for understanding.
She really, really hates that look.
••••••
She fights. Hard.
He knew she would. Addison doesn’t give up easily. It’s one of the things he used to love most about her. She would never quit, at least not willingly.
He remembers having to literally drag her out of the OR the first time she lost a patient. She staunchly refused to stop CPR, because she was so sure she could still save her. The attendings had all shaken their heads sadly as he had come to save her from herself, but he had been secretly proud of her. He knew that fight would turn her into a great surgeon someday.
And it had.
But now he wishes she would stop fighting. Wishes she would just let go. It would be so much easier, on both of them.
He knows she’s fighting hard enough for the two of them. He knows it’s the least he could do to help her out. But he can’t. He’s so past ready to call time of death.
But she keeps fighting. And he can’t help being secretly proud of her for doing so.
••••••
“Shh…” he whispers, hands in her hair, “I’ve got you…”
She doesn’t notice how tight he’s gripping her. Nor does she realize he’s practically got her locked beside him, unable to move unless he gives her permission to.
It’s been a long time since she’s been in a healthy relationship. If you could call any of her relationships healthy. She thinks it was, with Derek, in the beginning. Before things got complicated. Before things got messy.
All she knows now is she wants someone to notice her, wants someone to see her, wants someone to want her.
She thinks Sam does. He tells her he does anyway, and she chooses to believe him. She’s tired of believing otherwise.
So she looks for the good, sees how he talks about their future, sees how he makes plans for the both of them.
She doesn’t notice when things go bad, doesn’t see the signs that something isn’t right.
And then nothing is right. And there is no way out. And it’s much too late.
He has her, and she can’t do anything to change that.
••••••
He has never been very good at playing the hero when it comes to her, even though he excels when it comes to everyone else. His mother. His sisters. His patients. Meredith.
But not when it comes to her.
He used to like to think it was because they were equals. Neither one of them needed saving.
He thinks now it might be because she always seemed so strong. He always figured she could handle it.
But this time it’s different.
When Charlotte King, of all people, calls him up, he doesn’t even hesitate. And two minutes after he arrives, he sees what everyone has been talking about.
Sam grabs her arm. Hard. He punches him in the face.
Hard.
She stares up at him, tears dripping down her cheeks.
“Derek?” she whispers.
She sounds so small, so broken.
“Shhhh, you’re okay,” he whispers as he pulls her into his arms. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
“Thank you for saving me,” she tells him six months later when he slips the little diamond on to her finger.
“You’re worth saving,” he tells her. And this time he means it with every fiber of his being.