(no subject)

[xyliette]

Title: Sing You To Sleep
Part: 2/2
Pairing: Derek/Addison
Summary: Addison returns to Seattle after an unsuccessful outing in California and Derek decides that they can manage being friends. Previous.
For: thesevoices


A/N: I had to confiscate my brother's computer to post because my charger died a horrid death (broken neck) and I wanted to get this last part up. Thank you all for your feedback, I'll try and get back to you individually when I can pathetically steal another moment online. Enjoy-

~-~-~-~-~-~
Derek flips through the open tabs on his laptop screen, trying to decide if adding more of The Clash to his current playlist is a good idea. His fingers fly over the keyboard and few slow strokes later he is staring at a real estate ad (that he has had bookmarked longer than he wants to admit) for what he thinks would be the perfect house for a little boy. A large yard, lots of room to play and have adventures, but still close enough to the city that Addison wouldn't throw a fit.

"What are you doing?" Mark asks, sizing up the screen as Derek rapidly tries to switch back to his playlist.

"Nothing," Derek replies, trying to act cool.

"I thought Meredith wanted to stay in her mother's house." Mark shakes his head confused, reading through Derek's music selections. A good mix of classic, solid punk rock.

"She does," Derek replies. "It's not anything."

"What's the music about?" Mark asks nosily, dragging a chair over to sit by his friend in case he needs help picking the optimal order for the best flow.

Derek shrugs loosely, "It's for the baby."

"Baby?" Mark questions, feeling very out of the loop suddenly. "You knocked Grey up!" he yells and claps a hand to Derek's shoulder celebrating. "Way to go man."

"Shut up," Derek hisses.

"Oh...want to keep it quiet, got it," he nods. "Does Addison know already?" Mark looks out the door toward the nurses station where the redhead was a second ago. She disappeared rather quickly.

"I didn't...Meredith is not pregnant."

Mark looks up, finally catching on. "Addison," he breathes slowly. Of course.

"Her taste in music leaves a lot to be desired," Derek justifies to himself.

"And the house-"

"I just thought she may like it. She's living in a hotel right now-"

"You would know," Mark interrupts.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek demands as his ex-best friend walks near the exit.

Mark gulps down the knot in his throat. Every time he tries to forget that Addison is carrying some random guy's baby around it comes rushing back, and what's worse is that Derek has stepped into his role, trying to play house after ditching the wife. It's supposed to be his child, in New York, with Addison on his arm, not this rainy hell hole and quiet substitutions. "It's not your kid Derek."

"I know that," Derek scoffs.

"Do you?"

"We're just friends!" Derek yells out the door as Mark disappears to go lick his new wound.

~-~-~-~-~-~
"You know studies show that growing babies appreciate good nutrients," Derek grins, sliding into the cafeteria chair next to Addison who is merely poking her fork around her salad and staring at the table. After a few minutes he takes the chocolate pudding off his tray and pushes it over, her salad easily scooting out of the way. "Eat."

"Not hungry," Addison mumbles, hoping her pager will save her from this.

"Still, you should put something in your stomach. He'll appreciate it." Derek pats the top of her hand, invading her territory, only to find her standing up, the chair noisily bouncing over the tile. "Addison?"

~-~-~-~-~-~
"Do you want my interns?" Derek asks the next day, watching as Addison slouches against the counter, her head tucked into her elbow. Her hair is mussed, tangled, and hanging wildly around her shoulders, just barely at the length where it can rest on her back. He likes it long, not that the short wasn't...fascinating.

Addison doesn't even bother raising her tired head off its resting place. If she ignores him, he'll leave her and go back to his pregnant "wife". He never explained the post-it note wedding, or the world's latest development but she has impeccable hearing and the nurses have no sense of decency in her presence. It's punishment, never ending, for her previous crimes against Seattle Grace.

"Maybe you should go home and rest, I'll talk to Richard, I'm sure he won't mind."

That gets her up and moving, attempting to look poised and ready, but the black circles under her eyes that she couldn't even cover with make-up are signs enough.

"Do you want a ride? I don't have a surgery until two."

~-~-~-~-~-~
"Ok, I get it,?" Derek announces as she pulls back her hotel room door a few days later. There are boxes and packing tape littering the floor. "You're ang- moving?"

"I- needed somewhere with more than one room," Addison waves him in, determining that they really can't do this in the hallway. She's had a week to collect and organize her thoughts, she can do this.

"Why are you avoiding me? I thought we were friends," Derek says, obviously hurt, a hand tracing over the cut in a large box holding her most important shoes.

"Meredith," Addison sighs ignoring the obvious fact that Derek seems to have missed out when she said they could no longer hang out. "You should be friends with her. I'm not your best friend anymore Derek."

"I'm- w-e," he stutters, pulling out a plastic tub and inhaling a black pair of Jimmy Choo pumps. "Meredith has nothing to do with us-this."

Addison smiles slowly, watching him play with her favorite footwear. "I'm okay Derek," she pats his arm, garnering his attention. "I don't need you to look out for me."

Derek swallows heavily, feeling an end nearing, and he has no idea why. "I'm- Addison, we agreed to be friends. We're being civil. Meredith thinks it's good I have friends!" Well, she would anyway, if she had the slightest clue as to what Derek has been up to. In truth, he lingers over her hair telling her that he is going to watch the game or go hang out with Mark, or most recently just saying nothing and ditching out of the room when she is at the hospital. He doesn't want to hurt her, and since this is nothing to be upset about, he doesn't see the logic in bringing it up more often than necessary.

"You know that's not-" Addison stops herself as confusion clouds over his face. Maybe he is being her friend, hell she can hardly remember a time from before they were dating. Perhaps this is exactly how Derek is with his friends, and she's, as always reading way too much into things. "I-"

"I found a house," Derek says softly as she wrestles with herself. "I was going to show you."

"West Highland," Addison spurts suddenly. "I- there's a nice park, I thought it was a...good place."

"He needs a home," Derek argues. Children aren't meant to grow up in penthouses overlooking Elliot Bay. They need space to be carefree and innocent, not guarded and led around a city park.

"It's close to the hospital, I like it," she shuffles around the room awkwardly, feeling the need to hide boxes from him. He's been a part of so much since she's been here and for the last two weeks-something changed-and she just can't be around him anymore without wanting to do things that stand no chance of happening. Jumping into his arms, playing with his hair, telling him all the silly thoughts running through her hormonal head. It's not his place any longer.

"Not that close," Derek says, trying to remember where exactly on the map this place is. "Is this why you've been running away every time you see me?"

"Sure," Addison replies hastily.

"You're angry," Derek observes, sitting on the bed uninvited.

"I'm not!" Addison runs a few fingers through her own locks. It's not the same. She thought this place, these people were going to be the answer. She thought it would be easier to raise a baby alone with them, in a town that feels like home no matter how much she denies it.

"I know passive aggressive when I see it Addison," Derek reminds her, to which he receives a mere huff and a not-so subtle eye roll.

"What did I do?" Derek demands, his hands flitting over the pattern of stitching on the bedding nervously. He doesn't know why he cares, why he gives a damn if she likes him day in and day out, but for some reason it's become an integral part of each and every moment. He's liked the dinners, the movies, the walks through downtown. It's nice to have someone who understands him, and knows that silence in the face of a horrible day can be the answer, and not alcohol. He doesn't want this stripped away as soon as he was getting to enjoy it. "What did I do?" he asks again, standing, shoving his busy fingers into his pockets.

"I'm in love with you," Addison whimpers weakly. "And you go home to your-every night, and I...sit here alone thinking about everything I did wrong. I didn't come here to....go back."

"You kicked me out!"

"You know what I mean," Addison says, her cheeks flushing a vibrant shade of red as her heart pounds away. It's taken many drinks, many evenings on the beach, for her to come to the realization that though Derek may be off in a box, not being dealt with, that she does still love him-and now is once again in love with him. It didn't take much, just as she had feared.

"Yeah," Derek resigns, taking one giant step forward, watching her hesitantly waver over the ledge of self-loathing and consistent preservation. He misses when she used to give in.

"You don't," Addison begins, motioning with her fingertips, the outline, "You don't stay in the box...when you are constantly around...and I...it would be better if...we weren't friends. I think it's healthier that way. It's my turn to move on."

Derek grins, his calloused hands sliding up her jaw easily, feeling her melt into his touch. He has a fleeting thought about the second trimester fairytales he's heard as their lips make contact, sparking everything that was once there before the canyon they constructed. She's all teeth and tongue, frantic and he tries to slow her down but it's of no use. He pulls away first, resting his forehead against hers lightly, devouring the panic in her eyes. Derek keeps her close because he knows her first instinct will be to run as fast and as far as possible. "What...if I don't want to be in that stupid box anymore?"

Addison leans forward again, the heat and tension between the two thick. All she wants is him, closer, somehow. It's slower now, she can tell he's taking his time, just like he used to before pecking her on the cheek was even a goodbye option. She can feel fingers in her hair, down her spine, across her side. She reaches for the button on his jeans, and then he freezes, and she is forced to withdraw.

"I- I need to...go," Derek gulps, overwhelmed with the urge to kick away newspapers used for wrapping and a mountain of clothes on the bed just so he can have her...all of her. But he has things and people who need straightening out first. He needs to breathe for a second before he goes rushing back like a fool. He needs to sort this out, his feelings for both women. Years later and the time has finally come to make a real decision.

The stakes are high. He wants to choose correctly for once.

~-~-~-~-~-~
"You've been nothing but pleasant lately," Callie accuses, sitting next to Addison, watching her stir her pudding around its container. "You going to eat that?"

"No," Addison answers, handing it over.

"What'd you do this time?" Callie asks wisely, licking her spoon.

"I...don't want to talk about it," Addison says, replacing her meal with a journal she's already read twice. It's been a week and a half and instead of getting rid of one of her only friends by telling him to stay away she's managed to scare him away, which feels infinitely worse.

"That bad?" Callie asks but receives no reply. "So...you going to tell me who the father is yet? Cause the whole hospital has been speculating and since you must have been pregnant before you got here they've decided you somehow managed to fly Mark down for one evening without Lexie noticing. Well, that or you stole Brad Pitt."

"That's..." Addison sighs wishing it were that easy, "not it at all."

"I knew you had better taste," Callie proclaims, finishing off the pudding and studying her friend. "McDreamy did this?" Addison remains silent, pretending not to hear. "I'll kick his ass if you want. I never much cared for his attitude."

"It's fine," Addison decides suddenly. It's all going to be okay. She's going to have one man in her life and that's enough. Time to switch her focus is all. She'll move, get ready, and then she'll be so busy and tired that the name Derek Shepherd won't even be on her damn radar. She doesn't have any more time to waste.

~-~-~-~-~-~
Meredith nurses her water slowly. It doesn't burn like she's used to, and it doesn't reassure her that everything will be okay, because it's not and it won't be. She feels the warmth of an old comrade slip into the booth where she is hiding, a proper drink in his hand.

"Derek?" Mark asks knowingly, watching the way he's pranced around and thrown his new friendship with Addison in his face, the very same woman who wants virtually nothing to do with him.

"He's in love with her," Meredith snorts, taking the rest of her drink and downing it like it will do something besides hydrate her in preparation for the tears she will probably be crying shortly.

"He's an ass," Mark nods. An ass Mark hasn't seen in days come to think of it.

"Good thing we aren't actually married," Meredith chortles bitterly, trying to slide out of the booth that is blocked by Mark's body. She thinks a part of her should have been more weary, more suspicious, but she was so sure that they were beyond all that crap. She thought they were trusting, look where it got her.

Mark stands his ground as Meredith pushes against him again. In the end, even if Derek is an ass who is in love with his ex-wife and is busy planning for the child that isn't his in any way, Meredith will still need someone to take her home. And as the best man, it's his job to pick up the pieces his best friend always manages to leave behind. "Let's drink."

~-~-~-~-~-~
The earth shattering news of the golden couple breaking up again was heard by all a mere two weeks after their kiss. The airwaves also managed to ship her something about Meredith's pregnancy being a major hoax, but she endured. Addison spent the majority of her time being glared at, and hiding between patients, rounds, and surgeries. If there was another mode of being, she didn't know. She kept her head low, her hand off her rounding stomach, and her heart sealed. She didn't hear the gossip and she didn't speculate. If Derek wanted her to know, then he would tell her. Otherwise, not her problem.

She's operated, deflected annoying gossip, and assured Miranda and Richard she was fine to keep working and that no, her feet weren't killing her yet. In fact, she doesn't feel much in the way of her pregnancy. The morning sickness was the most haggard thing about this race but since then it's just odd, someone inside of her, kicking, rolling, and squirming. He's simply there, and she doesn't feel much of a connection yet. She's excited though, and the rest can follow along whenever it wants.

In her little free time she devoted herself to making sure her new home was ready for the baby. From the immovable layout to the color schemes she had problems. In the end the den became the nursery because it was closer to her room, and she picked orange, blue, and green instead of fire trucks, cars, or the alphabet. She doesn't know her son, his possible likes or dislikes, and the circle pattern on the new crib bedding felt more comfortable than throwing him into a jungle of animals or scary dinosaurs. Then again, she's never been one for themes. She tackled the kitchen, living room furniture, and finally her own bedroom where she settled upon a muted sage because she was too tired to care and white didn't feel like the answer again.

In the end she finds she rather likes it, carefully topped with knick-knacks and other treasures, her art aligned carefully and perfectly with the décor. She can live here, and the skyline out of her many windows certainly doesn't hurt. It's nice to return back to this place of solace after a long day of snippy nurses and hormonal patients who want to know every detail about her own pregnancy, not something she's welcome to sharing inside the walls of her work.

She makes the sacrifices though, to keep them more calm, to keep her mind steady while she waits. She always has been good at giving away parts of herself when people asked. In return, she's found heartache to be a constant companion in her lonely journey.

~-~-~-~-~-~
Addison curls up on the cream fabric of her couch, stretching her feet to the end and flicking on the lamp within her reach. The fireplace is roaring, the television is set low, and the blanket over her legs is warm. To top it off her son is finally asleep, after a day of cartwheels and angry kicks to her ribs. Just as her eyes begin to drift close the doorbell sounds, pulling her away from her mid-evening nap, as the city lights begin to invade and take over the dusk she loves so well.

"Derek," Addison gulps, nervously pulling down her shirt where it had began to ride up. She should be better at this by now, but that's the thing about him, he always catches her off guard-she never could catch up to his timing or tempo.

"I've knocked on every single door in this building and I had to sneak in behind someone to even get in. Leave it to you to pick the top story-"

"What are you doing here?" She interrupts him, the heat of her new place in Seattle drifting out into the hallway.

"Can I come in?" Derek asks, sneaking a peak at the flames shooting up, and the open architecture. It's certainly not the house he picked, but it's not bad.

"I- yeah," Addison moves to the side lazily, holding the door open with her back. Soon though he's entrenched in her taste, taking in every little detail, and she lets the door close because he's not turning around any time soon. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Water would be nice," Derek smiles, looking at the blue plate they bought in their third year of marriage. In fact, there are many notable things he already recognizes, just redesigned in a different space. It's reassuring that she didn't burn or destroy their previous life, that she cared enough to keep the gifts and joint purchases. He pauses too long taking the cup she offers, holding eye contact. "Guess we should just get down to it-I broke up with Meredith-or actually, she broke up with me, but I took some time...for me. I think it was for the best."

"That's good," Addison nods. "If you are happy." She scratches the back of her neck, fingers itching to do something as they stand on her new rug and survey the area she hasn't gotten quite memorized; still stumbling into the coffee table and end the of a couch on her journey to the kitchen each night for a quick snack.

"I'm working on happy," Derek tells her vulnerably, sitting down close to the fireplace and instructing her to come nearer. He takes in the city sparkling as she does, relishing in the colorful lights she gets to see each and everyday from her vantage point atop the building. He likes it more with each passing second. "I've done a lot of things the wrong way the last few years Addie, made a lot of mistakes."

"Yeah," Addison agrees softly, the fake crackling and popping behind her. She misses real wood instead of the vibrant flames. "Me too," she jokes, but it's the truth. Mark, Noah. It was a nightmare.

"I think, I know," Derek clears his throat, "that I want to be with you. And I know that's crazy, but..." he trails off, smoothing a hand over her stomach, grinning when he gets a few patters against his palm, "this is my son Addison. Our son. I...can't explain it." He feels her hand on top of his and takes it encouragingly. "It was supposed to be us all along. My life is here, with you both...if you'll have me."

Addison sniffles, trying to keep her tears at bay. What she always wanted, the real Derek, the one who cares, is here. He tells her not to cry but she can't help it. For the first time in years there is no complacent silence, there's no hateful and snide remarks. No pettiness, just honesty. It's raw in her throat, her lungs sucking heavily. "You came back."

"I'm sorry I ever had to leave," Derek says softly, wiping her cheeks, feeling her hurt build within him. What they've done to one another, what he allowed happen to her, it's unimaginable. Hard to fathom the last few memories he has are even related to the life they began so long ago. "So?"

"Yeah," Addison gulps, brushing her own face off, make-up already wiped clean for the night.

"We can try?" Derek questions, his hand rubbing circles over their son as she fights for composure.

Addison nods eagerly, unable to get words out of her frozen mouth. This time, the kiss is perfectly matched with anxious lips and shaking hands. Derek explores what he lost in the dim light of her airy living room, searching to find that she tastes the same. He's flushed pink when he pulls back, mindlessly rubbing her lower back which must ache by now.

"We go slow," Addison suddenly spouts, mind working overtime on how this may go. But, she finds it interesting that she has no doubts or reservations about their partnership. There will be learning curves and stumbling blocks but the hate and resentment, she's worked that out on her own. The past is truly the past in this instance. She's so sick of being alone, she's ready to love and to be loved again. It's been long enough for repentance. And in her wildest dreams, the least tangible, it was always him somehow.

"Slow," Derek agrees. "That's a good idea...except all I really want to do is-"

"Well, maybe not slow in that department," Addison concurs. Hell they've already had more than enough sex for one lifetime, no sense in depriving her overly needy body now. "But...at work, it'd be nice to keep a low profile."

"Yes," Derek laughs, "that would be nice for once."

"And...maybe we could try counseling again. I know the first time didn't go well but-"

"I don't think we need-"

"For me?" Addison asks, pushing her boundary a little.

"A different guy this time though," Derek concedes. Improved communication skills certainly couldn't hurt them in any way.

"Definitely."

"So...do I get the grand tour?" Derek stands, holding a hand out for her, grinning.

"The master bedroom is this way," Addison explains, pointing with her free hand and unwittingly groaning when she stands.

"Actually," Derek pulls her back as she tries to lead the way. "I think it would be nice if you showed me the whole place. The bedroom can wait."

~-~-~-~-~-~
"I-uh, I wasn't sure...about this-"

"It looks great," Derek tells her, running a hand over the cherry crib. He likes the colors, it seems very Addison to him. There are no boats or clouds, no running design across the wall and yet it is a nursery. He likes the minimalist feel, it's cozy, even with the one orange wall outlining the huge window to his right. He slips into the old rocking chair-a rare gift from his mother when they first thought that a baby was possible-no doubt what the room was modeled around. In a few short months he'll have a purpose for being in here, for pushing off the balls of his feet and rolling slowly.

"Really?" Addison squeaks, fingering the changing table, ready to use even though she still has three more months to wait. Once she settled on an idea the whole thing came together rather quickly.

"I think he'll love it in here. Amazing view too." Derek looks out the window a few more minutes, the lights now in full effect down below and above. He enjoys that she's not in a sky high building, only a meager five stories, but it still feels like it could be something. "You know, I am homeless."

"Should we live together?" Addison asks without thought. It's a good question and she doesn't really know where they stand, dating, or otherwise. It's all happened so quickly.

"We've done it before," Derek shrugs, whisking her out of the nursery and heading toward the only corner he hasn't seen yet-her room.

"I thought you loved the trailer," Addison says as they approach her bed, her knees automatically bending, prime for sleep time.

"I love the land," Derek corrects. "And I still own it, but it's not a home."

"True," Addison smiles, pulling the covers back and diving in. The cool fabric against her warm skin causes her to shiver as Derek shimmies out of his jeans, stripping to his blue boxers and white undershirt. She can see a crazy tuft of chest hair poking out from under the v-neck collar, and she snuggles up to his chest naturally when he finally joins her.

"Tired?" he yawns, giving away his position on the matter, looking over to see that they've spent over two hours discussing their future.

"Maybe tonight we could just-" she stops, burrowing under his chin, not minding when his hand comes to a rest on top of her stomach. She's almost jealous of the connection he somehow feels, motherly instincts not firmly in place.

"That sounds good," Derek murmurs, breathing slowing as she gets even closer, her hands winding through his shirt, holding on for dear life. She's afraid that she'll wake up and it will all be a vision or a mirage in the heat of the sand. "Relax," he whispers, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Night," Addison replies, purposefully making her fists release. It's hard not to cling when you finally get something good to happen, a little bit of magic to appear amongst the settling dust of hurricanes past.

~-~-~-~-~-~
The adjustments at work are harder than Derek thought, having to constantly sneak around just to see her. In some ways it's exciting, and in others it's childish. He wants to raise her hand in the air and make the damn announcement. It's been five blissful weeks and he's ready, had enough of the games and pretending to not know she exists when she walks by. He's gotten glares from Miranda that could set him ablaze, and Addison explained that she never said anything but that Bailey somehow knew. And he would've told Mark, but he didn't need any help in guessing what had lifted his mood.

"Get that playlist straightened out?" Mark asks, walking toward the front doors of Seattle Grace with Derek.

"I did," Derek confirms, shrugging on his coat and straightening the collar before they both get blasted with icy November rain and wind.

"How is she doing?" Mark needs only to know that she's taken care of, that it won't all blow over again when Derek gets bored. Meredith appears to be healing this go around significantly better than before, thought the two weeks off that she took may have had something to do with it.

"She's...crazy," Derek laughs. "Izzie is trying to teach her how to knit a blanket, so she has something to do when Richard finally gets the balls to put her on maternity leave."

"Strategical," Mark nods. "Smart."

"Well, she just moved so rearranging and redecorating are out of the question and the closet actually holds all seasons worth of her clothing so nothing needs to be shuffled in or out..."

Mark stops listening as Derek trails off about what they have been doing for the last few weeks, shopping for baby clothes and strollers, researching schools and buying books on how to be good parents, something both Mark and Addison don't have the first clue about. He watches Derek bubble and brim with enthusiasm for his new life, the change only Addison could bring (once again), all the way to their respective cars.

"We should have you and Lexie over some time, test out Addison's new cooking skills."

"Lexie has enough allergies, we don't need to play roulette," Mark smiles, digging for his keys in his pocket, "But we are excellent drinkers."

"Oh," Derek frowns. "We actually don't have any alcohol in the house- I could get some-"

"Coffee works-"

"No," Derek shakes his head, fiddling with the handle on his briefcase. "Addison doesn't and I guess I stopped..."

"You guys are already old, boring parents," Mark smirks, waving his friend off, the strap of his seatbelt clicking into place. It's secure, it's right, no matter how much it burns.

~-~-~-~-~-~
Richard manned up about two weeks later, putting Addison on three days a week, paperwork only, just in case her ("practice" as she calls them) contractions actually got bad enough to hinder her surgical precision. Of course there was bitching, whining, complaining, and bargaining but they endured. Even made it through their first major fight, something silly now that Derek can't remember. He finds that their therapist, to his initial dismay, is actually teaching them a thing or two about being open. It feels good.

Derek drops his keys into the bowl by the door, after having teased Addison relentlessly about swinger's party material, he actually finds it convenient and they never lose their belongings. "Addie? Home!"

He drapes his wet coat over the chair near the entryway, not bothering with the closet. In his immediate line of sight- the entire kitchen, dining area, and living room Addison is not to be found and his heart races on its own until he sees a dash of red outside the windows, hair slung over a lounge chair. "Addison, it's freezing out here," he scolds, not noting the blanket slung over her lap, her fingers twisted calmly through themselves.

Addison clinches her eyes shut as he drifts outside, hearing his voice, already missing her silence. She has days of mourning, days of reflection, and there's nothing quite like being interrupted mid thought. Her numerous hours off have perhaps given her too much time to analyze the situation she's found herself in, and everything that once happened so fast is now moving in slow motion. "Hi," she shivers, teeth clattering, previously unaware of the cooling air.

"What are you doing?" Derek asks, nudging her over, trying to find room for himself, and bringing her against him for warmth.

"Nothing," Addison murmurs, sinking into his arms.

There are moments when she questions his devotion, his motives, why this is such a seemingly easy reconciliation, but split seconds can be struggles- lessons in learning to pick your battles, and how to give way to victory. In her weakest times she thinks he's here because this is how it was supposed to be, that he somehow owes her something. The things that she can't say aloud, the concerns she can't possibly begin to voice in therapy because he is here, with her.

"Love you," Derek whispers, watching the faint outline of the sun try and dive into the horizon.

Addison smiles in return, listening to the sincerity drip from his voice. Even though there are the many minutes where she thinks he is here for the child first, he always does something to bring her back, to reel in her fears for the briefest of flashes.

~-~-~-~-~-~
Through the ice cream runs, endless hours of feet rubbing, and the sweet kisses he let dangle on her lips (after she decided that maybe they should take it slow in that department too), Addison slowly comes to realize that Derek neither seems to be making up for anything (lost time, missed opportunities), nor solely there to have a child. He's there for her, pure as the day she first met him-that twinkle present in his eyes again. And to reward him because he's been such an amazing boyfriend (an odd term for them to agree upon) she decides that tonight can be his night. No fetching food from the kitchen or helping her lug her whale-like form off the couch.

He deserves something more than that after all the work he's truly put into them being back together, safe and secure for the impending change. She's already put the finishing touches on her takeout, Chinese food left in its cartons, chopsticks at the ready. And she managed to scrounge something out of her closet that she doesn't feel horrible in, black of course. With a finishing flurry of red lips, and a flick of the television to ESPN, she prepares to pay back the many tiny favors.

Addison brushes the straining curls off her shoulder and waits impatiently as the clock begins to count down the time Derek said he would be home to when he will actually arrive, and unlike their many incidents before the gap is not long. Fifteen minutes to be precise until she hears the door, his keys, and the closet swing wide.

The lights are dimmed, minus candles, and the smell of promising grease and soy sauce hang in the air. She shimmies to the archway and slides her arms around his waist, taking a moment to enjoy his embrace.

"What's this for?" Derek asks, as they break apart, his socked feet a sound mismatch for her black shiny heels. "You look...amazing."

"I made dinner," Addison grins, "kind of."

"I thought I was cooking, Taco Night," Derek reminds her, keeping his hands planted on her hips.

"My turn," Addison replies and spins around to set up plates for both of them. And because she isn't the true romantic in their relationship they take their meal at the tablecloth laden table, with normal plates and wooden chopsticks that splinter when they crack apart. "How was your day?"

"Good," Derek nods, shoveling rice into his mouth, pushing a snow pea to the side of his plate for her to take pity on. "Mostly slow. Miranda said she wants to plan a baby shower, but I assured her that we have more than enough things-"

"Hey-" Addison protests, her shopping abilities taking a hit.

"So," Derek speaks over her rant, "I told her maybe a day in would be nice, or lunch. Whichever, I wasn't sure-"

"Derek?" Addison interrupts.

"Yeah?" He responds naturally, stopping without noticing, looking around for a fork because after all this time he still hasn't mastered other utensils.

"Could we...I don't know...let's not talk about the baby- just for tonight. Let's savor our time."

"Scared?" Derek asks knowingly. They have four weeks left before D-day, and he's watched her grow increasingly skittish around the subject. She's stopped looking for cute new blankets and socks, and started diving into her new found research more.

"No," Addison says immediately. "Maybe...a little."

"You've seen it a million times before-"

"And it always hurts-"

"You can do it," Derek assures her proudly. He'll be there, fingers waiting to be snatched and broken in two.

"Will you be there? For sure?" Addison questions, fears rising like tiny bubbles, pricked and open, expelled.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Derek says calmly, giving her the pile of peas from his plate as her fork lolls in her hand.

Addison looks down, watching the transfer, and seals her mouth. Her greatest fear is that it will be too much, that he won't be able to pretend it's his DNA inside her once the baby is born, his genetics exposed for the entire hospital to view. It could be too strenuous, too hard. She wouldn't blame him, but it still sets her frazzled nerves ablaze.

"I'm not leaving again," Derek promises, chewing softly so as not to intrude on her thoughts.

And while she doesn't believe him, and won't until that day comes, it's enough to turn it off for the night and relax in the solace of what they have formed together. Their own little cocoon in Seattle.

~-~-~-~-~-~
"Hello you...did you have a good nap?" Derek asks his new son softly, mindful of the fact that Addison is still very much asleep after a hectic round of giving birth in the back of an ambulance. Fortunately, she progressed quickly. Unfortunately, she didn't tell Derek until it was almost too late to do anything but give birth in their own bed.

Derek runs a finger down the baby's impossibly warm nose, his cheek, and the tiny bit of neck he can see outside of the fuzzy white blanket. He has Addison's eyes, her mouth, and her ears. That's all Derek can discern for now, but it's enough. He tucks the blue hat over the baby's red hair carefully, trying not to rouse him from the sleepy state he inhabits, but he loses, and blue eyes spring open widely, shifting around lazily. "Don't cry," Derek murmurs, looking over at Addison again. "It's okay-" Derek begins, but is cut off by the enormous sound that leaves his son's mouth.

"Good lungs," Addison mumbles, trying to slide up the bed, pushing the pillow that was holding her head to below her back.

"Sorry," Derek replies, rocking back and forth to no avail. "I stole him from the nursery."

"He's probably hungry," Addison observes, skipping over mentioning that there will more than likely be nurses rushing into their room soon demanding to know who the hell took one of their charges.

Derek reluctantly hands the newborn over to his mother, only the third time she's been able to cuddle him. He watches the sheer glow that radiates off her skin as she smiles down at him, the calmness in her voice, the surety of her hands. Despite her doubts, worries, and questions, Derek always knew she would be an outstanding mother. He watches with more awe than he should as his son hungrily latches on, and rubs Addison's shoulder as she grimaces in pain. "So I was thinking..."

"Shocking," Addison snipes quietly.

"What about Elliot?"

"I like that," Addison replies, looking at her son once more. "Elliot Montgomery Shepherd?"

"We aren't the worlds most creative individuals, but it does have a nice ring to it. E.M.S."

"We're doctors, he'll forgive us."

~-~-~-~-~-~
The storm picks up, speedy winds howling against the shaking glass of her new home. The hail falls in, intermixed with freezing rain and few flakes of snow desperately trying to make their appearance known. There's a reason she hates the rain. It's loud, and it brings friends. Snow is serene, falling in heaps around cities and transforming them into winter wonderlands. There's no such luck in Seattle this evening. The roads froze three hours ago, and she's certain that Derek is tied up in one OR or another on his first day back after two weeks of newborn excitement.

Addison shuffles back through the living room, trying to ignore the whipping tree branches, surprising thunder, and car alarms that have decided they don't like when things fall on them, to check on her son. Elliot, to her immediate dismay, is sound asleep in his bassinet, oblivious to the tumultuous upturn the weather has taken. He's an excellent sleeper, enjoying the sounds of destruction and the light music Addison is using to cancel out her fear. She draws herself back to the kitchen, wishing she had a baby to snuggle with instead of a warm cup of hot chocolate, when she hears the door rattle shut. "Derek?"

"Hey," he grins, whipping his scarf off and tossing it onto the back of the couch before wrapping her in his chilly hands. "You okay?"

"You came home," she whispers into his blue sweater, breathing him in deeply.

"It's a brutal one out there."

"You shouldn't have driven," Addison scolds him, pushing back against his chest and watching his eyes steady on him.

"I have to go back in a few hours, but I wanted to check-"

"He's okay," Addison tells him, looking out toward the mounting puddles once more. Lightning strikes nearby, and she can't help but jump inwardly.

"I wanted," Derek reiterates, "to check on you."

"Oh," Addison inhales, "I'm good-"

"I know," Derek nods, playing along. "But maybe we could try and catch a few hours of sleep. It is almost two and I need to be back by six." He allows her to grab Elliot, and takes a quick moment to brush a prickly kiss against his son's cheek, before leading her to the bedroom. A part of him has always enjoyed helping her feel safer through these particularly difficult times, riddled with bad childhood memories, and eventually their own failure.

He kisses her goodnight, pulls off his shoes, rubs Elliot's sleeping stomach, and then waits for the inevitable. The shaking starts, then the tears, and finally silence. He doesn't say a word, because after all this time there is nothing to say that won't be patronizing or repetitive. Storms are a part of Addison, in more ways than one, and he accepts it. He can't fix her and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world, even two hours later when Elliot wakes up, forcing him from a wonderfully dreamless slumber.

Addison waits until Derek fall asleep again, quickly encased in the fluttering of eyelids and rolling of limbs. Then she tiptoes from the room out onto the soaking deck.

The rain has slowed, dropping onto her scalp and drizzling down her neck. Her feet splash through cold, shallow pools. Three minutes later she's drenched but it no longer matters. She brushes a chunk of hair out of her eyes and tries to look up at the dawning sky. Gray, and angry. It doesn't look promising, but for the first time in years she couldn't care less if it rained for the next two months because she finally has someone who will hold her through the clattering, the downpour of life.

~-~-~-~-~-~