fic advent, december 21 for madekcabmeme
Title: Alone Together
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mark/Amelia
Summary: We're creatures of habit. We never change.
The cold water has little of the desired effect that Amelia would hope that it would have; it hasn’t woken her up anymore, hasn’t made her actions from last night anymore clear, and it most certainly hasn’t made her feel better.
In fact, the cold has only pissed her off more.
Disgusted, she pulls the hand towel from the rack and uses it to dry her face before sitting on the edge of the tub. She’s not exactly sure where she is, some moderately priced condo, and she doesn’t remember the name of the guy that she’s with.
It’s a pattern that she’s used to, but it’s one that she wishes she could get out of. She’s always been a little more sexually liberal than her uptight sisters, but she never meant to fall into this kind of continual pattern. While Amelia would like to believe that one day she’ll grow out of it and find the guy and fall in love, she knows that it will never happen.
Mark told her that much.
--
“I don’t get how you can just sleep around with every woman on two legs and act like it’s no big deal,” Amelia commented dryly, watching Mark as he eyeballed his next conquest.
He turned to face her with a smug grin, “I have stamina. A lot of stamina.”
Amelia makes a face and throws a peanut at him, “Shut up. That’s not what I meant. You just sleep around. Aren’t you going to be all Derek and Addison and find your one person?”
Mark stops looking at the blond across the bar and turns to look at Amelia. He found his one person. He found her four years ago just as he was starting med school and now that one person is marrying his best friend, “I don’t have a person. There’s some people that just aren’t made for love, Amy. You and me, we’re them. We’re free spirits. We don’t need one person.”
She heard the sad determination in his voice, as if saying out loud made it truth. Anybody who knew Mark, Addison, and Derek knew how much Mark loved Addison. They also knew that Addison would never settle down with a man who had a reputation like Mark’s.
Amelia studied him for a long moment, trying to deny the fact that she was as fucked up as he was, but knowing well that she was, “You really believe that? That we’ll never find love?”
Too lost in his own sorrows to pay attention to her words, Mark nods slightly, “I know it.”
--
“What do you mean you don’t know where you are?” Mark asks, cautiously pressing on the gas pedal with eyes cast upward and studying the buildings around him, “I don’t see a building with blue windows.”
Amelia sighs, shifts through her purse to find a cigarette, “I told you. It’s a gray building with blue windows.”
“Are you sure they’re just not reflecting the sky?” He asks sarcastically and then inhales sharply when he sees that he’s about to rear-end a Mercedes. He stomps on the brake, jolting him forward into the steering wheel before tossing him back into the seat, “I’m going to need an address. A street. Something. I can’t drive around looking at the architecture Amy.”
“Amelia,” she corrects him, glances around for an address and finally finds one, “821 Ocean.”
“It’s about damn time,” Mark mutters, pulls off to the side of the road to put the address into his GPS, “Where the hell is your car?”
“I guess at the bar. It’s not here.”
“And if it’s not at the bar?”
“Then I guess I should look somewhere else for it,” she says in a cloud of smoke, turns her head to watch for his Porsche Boxter coming down the street.
Mark bites his tongue. He has no right to judge her, he’s had a million of those nights. Not that he’d ever lose his car. But then again, his car was the only thing he had. He had been long relinquished to the fun uncle status by Arizona and all but pushed out his daughter’s life.
A few minutes later, he pulls up in front of the building she described and throws the door open, “Put that cigarette out before you get in my car. It just got detailed.”
“You gonna tell me that you never smoke in your car?” She asks, stubbing the cigarette out on the side of the building before flicking it into the street.
“Why the hell do you think I got it detailed?”
She smirks as she climbs into the car, “Naughty naughty, smoking in the Boxster.”
“It’s my car. I can do what the hell I want in it.”
“Wanna have sex in it?” Amelia half jokes, shifts her eyes to Mark. She’s slept with him before and she’d do it again. But she also knows that there’s no way that he’d do that in his precious car.
“On Italian leather seats? Do you know how much it costs to get these cleaned?”
“No, but I’m guessing that you’re going to tell me anyway,” she answers sarcastically, looks out the window as he tries to get through traffic and back onto the interstate.
“Which bar did you go to? The one down by the practice?”
“Isn’t that the bar I always go to?”
Mark smirks slightly, “You’ll never change.”
“We’re creatures of habit,” she says idly, turns to glance at him, “what really happened with Arizona and Callie?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with finding your car.” It’s a subject that he hasn’t fully breached with anybody yet, not even Addison, and it’s not something he really cares to talk about.
“I don’t care about my car. I want to know what kept you from it.”
“From what?”
“Having that one person in your life,” Amelia says in a quiet voice, “even if it’s just a kid.”
When they come to a stop light, he looks at Amelia and sighs softly, “They were…I left on my own. Sofia, Biologically, I’m her father, but Arizona and Callie, they’re her family. I’m just the entertainment.”
“Once a manwhore, always a manwhore,” she echoes idly, “we never change.”
“Nope.”
They sit in silence for few minutes, contemplating where the hell they went wrong in their lives- was it the first time they had sex, making a big deal of the fourth notch in their bedpost, or if it was thinking that there was ever a chance that they could really love someone else and not have their past come back to haunt them.
Mark reaches over into her bag and blindly searches out the pack of cigarettes.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Light me one,” he answers, grasping the pack and pulling it out.
“I thought-“
“Just shut up and light me one.”
Amelia does as he asks, passes the lit cigarette over to him before lighting one for herself, “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you find your car.”
“No, I mean what are you doing here? Addison doesn’t want you. She’s doing the baby thing with some anonymous sperm donor. There’s nothing here for you.”
“I’m not looking for anything,” he shrugs, “I quit looking a long time ago.”
“Fine. Then let’s look for my car later. I’m hungry and hung over.”
“We’ll find your car first. And then I’ll take you back to my place and we’ll have breakfast.”
“You can cook now?” She asks, surprised, already knowing that food is not the only thing that they’ll be having once they get to his place.
“Something I picked up along the way,” he comments, leaving off the story of how he was trying to be the family man.
“Can you make omelets?”
Mark doesn’t need an explanation. Amelia’s father was like her own and he remembers the Christmas mornings spent with the Shepherd family and his famous omelets that he’d make for breakfast after they opened presents.
It’s one of the only Christmas memories he’ll ever cherish, “I can make omelets for breakfast.”
Amelia smiles to herself, though sadness is seeping through her.
Even if they’re alone on Christmas, at least they can be alone together.
-Fin
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mark/Amelia
Summary: We're creatures of habit. We never change.
The cold water has little of the desired effect that Amelia would hope that it would have; it hasn’t woken her up anymore, hasn’t made her actions from last night anymore clear, and it most certainly hasn’t made her feel better.
In fact, the cold has only pissed her off more.
Disgusted, she pulls the hand towel from the rack and uses it to dry her face before sitting on the edge of the tub. She’s not exactly sure where she is, some moderately priced condo, and she doesn’t remember the name of the guy that she’s with.
It’s a pattern that she’s used to, but it’s one that she wishes she could get out of. She’s always been a little more sexually liberal than her uptight sisters, but she never meant to fall into this kind of continual pattern. While Amelia would like to believe that one day she’ll grow out of it and find the guy and fall in love, she knows that it will never happen.
Mark told her that much.
--
“I don’t get how you can just sleep around with every woman on two legs and act like it’s no big deal,” Amelia commented dryly, watching Mark as he eyeballed his next conquest.
He turned to face her with a smug grin, “I have stamina. A lot of stamina.”
Amelia makes a face and throws a peanut at him, “Shut up. That’s not what I meant. You just sleep around. Aren’t you going to be all Derek and Addison and find your one person?”
Mark stops looking at the blond across the bar and turns to look at Amelia. He found his one person. He found her four years ago just as he was starting med school and now that one person is marrying his best friend, “I don’t have a person. There’s some people that just aren’t made for love, Amy. You and me, we’re them. We’re free spirits. We don’t need one person.”
She heard the sad determination in his voice, as if saying out loud made it truth. Anybody who knew Mark, Addison, and Derek knew how much Mark loved Addison. They also knew that Addison would never settle down with a man who had a reputation like Mark’s.
Amelia studied him for a long moment, trying to deny the fact that she was as fucked up as he was, but knowing well that she was, “You really believe that? That we’ll never find love?”
Too lost in his own sorrows to pay attention to her words, Mark nods slightly, “I know it.”
--
“What do you mean you don’t know where you are?” Mark asks, cautiously pressing on the gas pedal with eyes cast upward and studying the buildings around him, “I don’t see a building with blue windows.”
Amelia sighs, shifts through her purse to find a cigarette, “I told you. It’s a gray building with blue windows.”
“Are you sure they’re just not reflecting the sky?” He asks sarcastically and then inhales sharply when he sees that he’s about to rear-end a Mercedes. He stomps on the brake, jolting him forward into the steering wheel before tossing him back into the seat, “I’m going to need an address. A street. Something. I can’t drive around looking at the architecture Amy.”
“Amelia,” she corrects him, glances around for an address and finally finds one, “821 Ocean.”
“It’s about damn time,” Mark mutters, pulls off to the side of the road to put the address into his GPS, “Where the hell is your car?”
“I guess at the bar. It’s not here.”
“And if it’s not at the bar?”
“Then I guess I should look somewhere else for it,” she says in a cloud of smoke, turns her head to watch for his Porsche Boxter coming down the street.
Mark bites his tongue. He has no right to judge her, he’s had a million of those nights. Not that he’d ever lose his car. But then again, his car was the only thing he had. He had been long relinquished to the fun uncle status by Arizona and all but pushed out his daughter’s life.
A few minutes later, he pulls up in front of the building she described and throws the door open, “Put that cigarette out before you get in my car. It just got detailed.”
“You gonna tell me that you never smoke in your car?” She asks, stubbing the cigarette out on the side of the building before flicking it into the street.
“Why the hell do you think I got it detailed?”
She smirks as she climbs into the car, “Naughty naughty, smoking in the Boxster.”
“It’s my car. I can do what the hell I want in it.”
“Wanna have sex in it?” Amelia half jokes, shifts her eyes to Mark. She’s slept with him before and she’d do it again. But she also knows that there’s no way that he’d do that in his precious car.
“On Italian leather seats? Do you know how much it costs to get these cleaned?”
“No, but I’m guessing that you’re going to tell me anyway,” she answers sarcastically, looks out the window as he tries to get through traffic and back onto the interstate.
“Which bar did you go to? The one down by the practice?”
“Isn’t that the bar I always go to?”
Mark smirks slightly, “You’ll never change.”
“We’re creatures of habit,” she says idly, turns to glance at him, “what really happened with Arizona and Callie?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with finding your car.” It’s a subject that he hasn’t fully breached with anybody yet, not even Addison, and it’s not something he really cares to talk about.
“I don’t care about my car. I want to know what kept you from it.”
“From what?”
“Having that one person in your life,” Amelia says in a quiet voice, “even if it’s just a kid.”
When they come to a stop light, he looks at Amelia and sighs softly, “They were…I left on my own. Sofia, Biologically, I’m her father, but Arizona and Callie, they’re her family. I’m just the entertainment.”
“Once a manwhore, always a manwhore,” she echoes idly, “we never change.”
“Nope.”
They sit in silence for few minutes, contemplating where the hell they went wrong in their lives- was it the first time they had sex, making a big deal of the fourth notch in their bedpost, or if it was thinking that there was ever a chance that they could really love someone else and not have their past come back to haunt them.
Mark reaches over into her bag and blindly searches out the pack of cigarettes.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Light me one,” he answers, grasping the pack and pulling it out.
“I thought-“
“Just shut up and light me one.”
Amelia does as he asks, passes the lit cigarette over to him before lighting one for herself, “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you find your car.”
“No, I mean what are you doing here? Addison doesn’t want you. She’s doing the baby thing with some anonymous sperm donor. There’s nothing here for you.”
“I’m not looking for anything,” he shrugs, “I quit looking a long time ago.”
“Fine. Then let’s look for my car later. I’m hungry and hung over.”
“We’ll find your car first. And then I’ll take you back to my place and we’ll have breakfast.”
“You can cook now?” She asks, surprised, already knowing that food is not the only thing that they’ll be having once they get to his place.
“Something I picked up along the way,” he comments, leaving off the story of how he was trying to be the family man.
“Can you make omelets?”
Mark doesn’t need an explanation. Amelia’s father was like her own and he remembers the Christmas mornings spent with the Shepherd family and his famous omelets that he’d make for breakfast after they opened presents.
It’s one of the only Christmas memories he’ll ever cherish, “I can make omelets for breakfast.”
Amelia smiles to herself, though sadness is seeping through her.
Even if they’re alone on Christmas, at least they can be alone together.
-Fin