grey's anatomy fanfiction, cristina/addison - pandora's box
Pandora's Box
Author's Notes: Cristina and Addison explore the best way to fight, which of course means NC-17, smut warning is necessary.
Cristina has always liked learning. On her second birthday, her parents bought her an alphabet puzzle, and she learnt the alphabet in two hours. In third grade she learnt how to multiply, and she always won the times table competition. In high school, she was top of her class. In med school, she memorised entire textbooks, not for fun exactly, but because she liked knowing things. She liked being able to answer before anyone else in her lecture. Her life has been one giant learning experience- facts, figures and formulae.
Life after graduation has been a learning experience too. Life as a surgical intern, it’s all about learning. Only it’s not the same kind of learning she’s used to. It’s not facts, figures and formulae. Now Cristina is learning about people. She’s learning about feelings. Feelings are so much harder than advanced calculus. Feelings make everything so complicated.
Once upon a time, Cristina would have laughed at her situation: recovering from a miscarriage, pregnant, during her internship, to an attending. And now this.
The rest of it, she could handle. Falling in love with Burke, coming to terms with those feelings, it was a challenge. Losing the baby, moving in with Burke, having Burke say the words, Burke getting shot, Burke having a tremor in his hand… well all of that was a learning curve of sorts. But Dr Cristina Yang could deal with it. Sometimes she didn’t perform as well in the relationship department as she did in her boards, but hey, nobody’s perfect. What did she say once to Meredith? “Everyone has problems.”
That’s right. Problems.
Like this particular learning experience.
When she tried to tell Meredith she’d started with a huge explanation: about being so tired, about sleeping curled up in a plastic hospital chair, about not knowing what to do or say when Burke was awake and worried. And Meredith had reassured her, and made the conversation about her instead of it before she even got the chance to get to the point. Perhaps that was the point of her long precursory ramble in the first place.
It’s just… she’s not really sure how to share this particular knowledge with Meredith. She doesn’t know how it makes her feel. She doesn’t know if she wants anyone to know. Because sure, sleeping with an attending, not a good idea. Cheating on an attending with another attending? Really, really dumb idea. Cheating on an attending, with another attending, who happens to be the wife of your best friends ex-boyfriend? Cristina thinks she might just fail at this relationship thing.
In her defence, it was an accident. Sure, she’d always kind of admired Addison, for breezing into Seattle Grace and making everyone stand up and pay attention to her. And yeah, when scrutinized in that critical way that women observe other women, Addison was stunning. But it was a complete surprise to discover how Addison kissed when she was angry (pushy and demanding) and she’d never really considered what was going on beneath those salmon scrubs (black lace, but mismatching).
It was an accident; because she’s pretty sure Addison never considered the same things about her either.
It was an accident, because they’re both quick-tempered, especially before 12pm. And Cristina was tired because she hadn’t left the hospital in 48 hours, and Addison was annoyed because Derek wasn’t just in love with Meredith anymore. Now he was sleeping with Meredith too. Cristina knew that. Cristina got it. If it was Cristina’s husband, he wouldn’t even own the stupid trailer anymore because she would’ve divorced his sorry ass six months ago. But Cristina wasn’t going to be abused just because Addison’s life sucked. George might be too nice to talk back, Alex might cop it because secretly, he wanted to get into the She-Shepherd’s pants, Meredith might remain silent, because hey, if Cristina was sleeping with someone’s husband, she’d put up with it too. But damnit, she wasn’t sleeping with anyone married (at that point) and she sure was hell wasn’t in the mood for a McSatan outburst.
So she talked back. She argued with Addison and Addison argued back.
It was a relief of sorts, because she was sick of being the reassuring, supportive girlfriend. She was sick of uttering platitudes like “everything will be all right.” She was sick of pretending that she wasn’t angry. Angry at the gunman, angry at Burke for getting shot, angry at McDouchebag for not fixing the problem, angry that she couldn’t do anything about it, except sit in a hospital chair until she ended up with a hunched back and spewing clichés. Given the reaction to her scathing comments, she wasn’t the only one who was angry.
Arguing wasn’t new to her, she knew it well. It wasn’t until Addison stepped closer to her than was really appropriate, looking like she was about to slog her, and Cristina sort of stared up at her defiantly that she got to the learning part. Because Addison was nearly as tall as Burke, and she’d been done this with him before. Call it a reflex action, she tilted her head to the right slightly, and walked forward, backing the other woman against the door. She could feel Addison’s breath against her cheek, and impulsively, she reached up and yanked at her ponytail, sending strawberry waves spilling out over her shoulders, obscuring her face so Cristina only saw a hint of the scowl that followed. And then before she knew it, the foremost Neonatal specialist in the country had her hands entangled in her hair, pulling at the ebony mass with a vengeance. It hurt, but she let her teeth sink into her lip, swallowing the cry rising in her throat, because she certainly wasn’t going to give the other woman the satisfaction.
Cristina encircled her wrists with her own, dragging her fingernails down the redhead’s arms, refusing to flinch under her glare, defiance motivating every twist of her body. The conclusion seemed predetermined when a curtain of red hair fell across her own face, and sure enough, seconds later, she learnt something about Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd. She learnt that she tastes like coffee and cinnamon, because Addison kissed her, so hard that it was less of a kiss and more of clash of teeth, but there were lips and tongues involved, so technically, Cristina figures it was a kiss. Somewhere in the middle of it, her hands found Addison’s shoulders, lifting her body to wrap it around the other woman’s. And Addison smirked against her mouth then, because Cristina’s surrendered so much control that she thinks she’s won.
But Cristina has learnt a lot this year, about give and take, about winning and losing, and she knows that sometimes, it’s better to let your opponent gain the upper hand. Especially when ‘gaining the upper hand’ means ‘pinning you against the door’, which is what Addison did, her fingernails scraping against Cristina’s stomach as she fumbled with the powder blue drawstrings, still tied in obsessively neat double knots. Cristina was sort of disappointed when said knots proved to be reason for Addison to stop kissing her, concentrating intently, but when she decided to take matters into her own hands, there was an awkward brush of fingers and a moment of eye contact in which they exchanged a questioning glance. Then Cristina twisted the lock into place on the door and Addison finally slid a fingernail under the loops, before slipping beneath waistband of her scrubs. She didn’t linger at the top of her panties, or pause to ask permission, she just dragged her fingernails up Cristina’s thighs until her fingers were methodically rubbing her clit. And the whole time she smiled smugly at every gasp elicited, and the fierce glare the intern gave her when she paused abruptly. So all at once she started again, and Cristina couldn’t help the little ‘o’ shape which her lips formed when she felt those fingernails inside her.
“What, you think I examine cervixes everyday without knowing how it works?” Addison asked in response to her surprised expression.
“With all due respect,” she murmured, closing her eyes to concentrate on the fingers curling inside her, “I can’t imagine you get this involved with your patients.”
The other woman smiled wickedly, “No, do you think I should expand my standard consult?”
“Wouldn’t you just love me to say yes?”
“Oh, I’d love you to tell me more than that Yang,” was the deliciously evil reply, the words and expired air accompanying them hanging over her lips, “I’d love you tell me how I’m making your toes curl, and your hips move and how I’m going to make you come…”
But be damned if she was going to oblige, Cristina leant forward to rest her head against Addison’s shoulder, burying her teeth in the soft skin between her neck and her collarbone. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on learning the pattern of strokes against her clit, on being taught a new lesson, biting down hard as she clenched herself around Addison’s fingers. She didn’t make a sound when she came, just pulled back to stare and smirk at the other woman.
And then she was on her feet, pushing backwards again until the combination lock was pressing into Addison’s shoulder blades. It was Meredith’s locker. She almost laughed at the irony, but concentrated instead on working her hands beneath the other woman’s scrubs, snapping open the clasp on her bra and bunching the fabric up around her shoulders to reveal her breasts. Cristina took advantage of the redhead’s dazed expression, sliding her mouth over her ribs, tracing them with her tongue before moving to tease the skin around her nipples. It was her turn to smile smugly then, because when she moved her tongue in it little circles the other woman curved into her mouth, covering her mouth with her hand when a breathy moan escaped her lips.
Cristina placed her hands on the hips in front of her. She could tell she was close to victory, so she pulled an underhanded move that she knew would win her the game. She sunk to her knees and dragged the salmon scrubs and black lace down with her. Then she straightened herself up and flicked a tongue across her clit. It didn’t take long after Cristina opened her mouth and began moving her tongue in a variety of ways. It was when she used her teeth that she smiled, because Addison slid to the floor and again entwined her fingers in Cristina’s hair, tugging at her head with an urgency that told her she had won. Because clearly, it was against the rules to be so unsteady on your feet you had to sit, and if not, it was definitely against the rules to swear softly between gasps when you came.
The obligatory post-coital awkward moment was interrupted by the beeping of Addison’s pager. Cristina couldn’t say she wasn’t glad. They passed each other several times in the wards that afternoon. Every time, her dark eyes avoided the clear blue that simply stared, offering to continue the argument of earlier, as though when she had pulled her hair back into a hasty ponytail and ran off, it had merely been an adjournment. And every time, Cristina wondered what the hell she was going to do about this little foray into infidelity. If it was a same sex affair were you still a mistress? Did that mean she was joining Meredith and Mark in the ranks of the Shepherd’s extramarital partners? She couldn’t figure it out, but damn, the pointed stares made her quiver like an excited electron. Another lesson: in lust.
So that morning, Cristina woke up in a hospital chair. That evening, as she settled herself into the chair and laced her fingers with Burke’s, creating a mesh of light and dark, a shadow grew long in the doorway.
Burke looked up and greeted his visitor, “Hey Addison.”
“Hey Preston, how’s it going?” she smiled, before leaning over and surreptitiously sliding a hand beneath Cristina’s turtleneck, tracing lazy circles on the intern’s back while beaming at her boyfriend.
“Oh you know, getting easier,” he smiled. Cristina could tell it was forced, but it was hard to concentrate, with those lips hovering over her ear lobe, teasing.
“Page me when he’s asleep,” Addison whispered, straightening up to her full height and exiting without ceremony, wishing Burke a goodnight.
Not for the first time that day Cristina wondered what the hell she was doing, taking practical lessons in opening Pandora’s Box.
Author's Notes: Cristina and Addison explore the best way to fight, which of course means NC-17, smut warning is necessary.
Cristina has always liked learning. On her second birthday, her parents bought her an alphabet puzzle, and she learnt the alphabet in two hours. In third grade she learnt how to multiply, and she always won the times table competition. In high school, she was top of her class. In med school, she memorised entire textbooks, not for fun exactly, but because she liked knowing things. She liked being able to answer before anyone else in her lecture. Her life has been one giant learning experience- facts, figures and formulae.
Life after graduation has been a learning experience too. Life as a surgical intern, it’s all about learning. Only it’s not the same kind of learning she’s used to. It’s not facts, figures and formulae. Now Cristina is learning about people. She’s learning about feelings. Feelings are so much harder than advanced calculus. Feelings make everything so complicated.
Once upon a time, Cristina would have laughed at her situation: recovering from a miscarriage, pregnant, during her internship, to an attending. And now this.
The rest of it, she could handle. Falling in love with Burke, coming to terms with those feelings, it was a challenge. Losing the baby, moving in with Burke, having Burke say the words, Burke getting shot, Burke having a tremor in his hand… well all of that was a learning curve of sorts. But Dr Cristina Yang could deal with it. Sometimes she didn’t perform as well in the relationship department as she did in her boards, but hey, nobody’s perfect. What did she say once to Meredith? “Everyone has problems.”
That’s right. Problems.
Like this particular learning experience.
When she tried to tell Meredith she’d started with a huge explanation: about being so tired, about sleeping curled up in a plastic hospital chair, about not knowing what to do or say when Burke was awake and worried. And Meredith had reassured her, and made the conversation about her instead of it before she even got the chance to get to the point. Perhaps that was the point of her long precursory ramble in the first place.
It’s just… she’s not really sure how to share this particular knowledge with Meredith. She doesn’t know how it makes her feel. She doesn’t know if she wants anyone to know. Because sure, sleeping with an attending, not a good idea. Cheating on an attending with another attending? Really, really dumb idea. Cheating on an attending, with another attending, who happens to be the wife of your best friends ex-boyfriend? Cristina thinks she might just fail at this relationship thing.
In her defence, it was an accident. Sure, she’d always kind of admired Addison, for breezing into Seattle Grace and making everyone stand up and pay attention to her. And yeah, when scrutinized in that critical way that women observe other women, Addison was stunning. But it was a complete surprise to discover how Addison kissed when she was angry (pushy and demanding) and she’d never really considered what was going on beneath those salmon scrubs (black lace, but mismatching).
It was an accident; because she’s pretty sure Addison never considered the same things about her either.
It was an accident, because they’re both quick-tempered, especially before 12pm. And Cristina was tired because she hadn’t left the hospital in 48 hours, and Addison was annoyed because Derek wasn’t just in love with Meredith anymore. Now he was sleeping with Meredith too. Cristina knew that. Cristina got it. If it was Cristina’s husband, he wouldn’t even own the stupid trailer anymore because she would’ve divorced his sorry ass six months ago. But Cristina wasn’t going to be abused just because Addison’s life sucked. George might be too nice to talk back, Alex might cop it because secretly, he wanted to get into the She-Shepherd’s pants, Meredith might remain silent, because hey, if Cristina was sleeping with someone’s husband, she’d put up with it too. But damnit, she wasn’t sleeping with anyone married (at that point) and she sure was hell wasn’t in the mood for a McSatan outburst.
So she talked back. She argued with Addison and Addison argued back.
It was a relief of sorts, because she was sick of being the reassuring, supportive girlfriend. She was sick of uttering platitudes like “everything will be all right.” She was sick of pretending that she wasn’t angry. Angry at the gunman, angry at Burke for getting shot, angry at McDouchebag for not fixing the problem, angry that she couldn’t do anything about it, except sit in a hospital chair until she ended up with a hunched back and spewing clichés. Given the reaction to her scathing comments, she wasn’t the only one who was angry.
Arguing wasn’t new to her, she knew it well. It wasn’t until Addison stepped closer to her than was really appropriate, looking like she was about to slog her, and Cristina sort of stared up at her defiantly that she got to the learning part. Because Addison was nearly as tall as Burke, and she’d been done this with him before. Call it a reflex action, she tilted her head to the right slightly, and walked forward, backing the other woman against the door. She could feel Addison’s breath against her cheek, and impulsively, she reached up and yanked at her ponytail, sending strawberry waves spilling out over her shoulders, obscuring her face so Cristina only saw a hint of the scowl that followed. And then before she knew it, the foremost Neonatal specialist in the country had her hands entangled in her hair, pulling at the ebony mass with a vengeance. It hurt, but she let her teeth sink into her lip, swallowing the cry rising in her throat, because she certainly wasn’t going to give the other woman the satisfaction.
Cristina encircled her wrists with her own, dragging her fingernails down the redhead’s arms, refusing to flinch under her glare, defiance motivating every twist of her body. The conclusion seemed predetermined when a curtain of red hair fell across her own face, and sure enough, seconds later, she learnt something about Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd. She learnt that she tastes like coffee and cinnamon, because Addison kissed her, so hard that it was less of a kiss and more of clash of teeth, but there were lips and tongues involved, so technically, Cristina figures it was a kiss. Somewhere in the middle of it, her hands found Addison’s shoulders, lifting her body to wrap it around the other woman’s. And Addison smirked against her mouth then, because Cristina’s surrendered so much control that she thinks she’s won.
But Cristina has learnt a lot this year, about give and take, about winning and losing, and she knows that sometimes, it’s better to let your opponent gain the upper hand. Especially when ‘gaining the upper hand’ means ‘pinning you against the door’, which is what Addison did, her fingernails scraping against Cristina’s stomach as she fumbled with the powder blue drawstrings, still tied in obsessively neat double knots. Cristina was sort of disappointed when said knots proved to be reason for Addison to stop kissing her, concentrating intently, but when she decided to take matters into her own hands, there was an awkward brush of fingers and a moment of eye contact in which they exchanged a questioning glance. Then Cristina twisted the lock into place on the door and Addison finally slid a fingernail under the loops, before slipping beneath waistband of her scrubs. She didn’t linger at the top of her panties, or pause to ask permission, she just dragged her fingernails up Cristina’s thighs until her fingers were methodically rubbing her clit. And the whole time she smiled smugly at every gasp elicited, and the fierce glare the intern gave her when she paused abruptly. So all at once she started again, and Cristina couldn’t help the little ‘o’ shape which her lips formed when she felt those fingernails inside her.
“What, you think I examine cervixes everyday without knowing how it works?” Addison asked in response to her surprised expression.
“With all due respect,” she murmured, closing her eyes to concentrate on the fingers curling inside her, “I can’t imagine you get this involved with your patients.”
The other woman smiled wickedly, “No, do you think I should expand my standard consult?”
“Wouldn’t you just love me to say yes?”
“Oh, I’d love you to tell me more than that Yang,” was the deliciously evil reply, the words and expired air accompanying them hanging over her lips, “I’d love you tell me how I’m making your toes curl, and your hips move and how I’m going to make you come…”
But be damned if she was going to oblige, Cristina leant forward to rest her head against Addison’s shoulder, burying her teeth in the soft skin between her neck and her collarbone. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on learning the pattern of strokes against her clit, on being taught a new lesson, biting down hard as she clenched herself around Addison’s fingers. She didn’t make a sound when she came, just pulled back to stare and smirk at the other woman.
And then she was on her feet, pushing backwards again until the combination lock was pressing into Addison’s shoulder blades. It was Meredith’s locker. She almost laughed at the irony, but concentrated instead on working her hands beneath the other woman’s scrubs, snapping open the clasp on her bra and bunching the fabric up around her shoulders to reveal her breasts. Cristina took advantage of the redhead’s dazed expression, sliding her mouth over her ribs, tracing them with her tongue before moving to tease the skin around her nipples. It was her turn to smile smugly then, because when she moved her tongue in it little circles the other woman curved into her mouth, covering her mouth with her hand when a breathy moan escaped her lips.
Cristina placed her hands on the hips in front of her. She could tell she was close to victory, so she pulled an underhanded move that she knew would win her the game. She sunk to her knees and dragged the salmon scrubs and black lace down with her. Then she straightened herself up and flicked a tongue across her clit. It didn’t take long after Cristina opened her mouth and began moving her tongue in a variety of ways. It was when she used her teeth that she smiled, because Addison slid to the floor and again entwined her fingers in Cristina’s hair, tugging at her head with an urgency that told her she had won. Because clearly, it was against the rules to be so unsteady on your feet you had to sit, and if not, it was definitely against the rules to swear softly between gasps when you came.
The obligatory post-coital awkward moment was interrupted by the beeping of Addison’s pager. Cristina couldn’t say she wasn’t glad. They passed each other several times in the wards that afternoon. Every time, her dark eyes avoided the clear blue that simply stared, offering to continue the argument of earlier, as though when she had pulled her hair back into a hasty ponytail and ran off, it had merely been an adjournment. And every time, Cristina wondered what the hell she was going to do about this little foray into infidelity. If it was a same sex affair were you still a mistress? Did that mean she was joining Meredith and Mark in the ranks of the Shepherd’s extramarital partners? She couldn’t figure it out, but damn, the pointed stares made her quiver like an excited electron. Another lesson: in lust.
So that morning, Cristina woke up in a hospital chair. That evening, as she settled herself into the chair and laced her fingers with Burke’s, creating a mesh of light and dark, a shadow grew long in the doorway.
Burke looked up and greeted his visitor, “Hey Addison.”
“Hey Preston, how’s it going?” she smiled, before leaning over and surreptitiously sliding a hand beneath Cristina’s turtleneck, tracing lazy circles on the intern’s back while beaming at her boyfriend.
“Oh you know, getting easier,” he smiled. Cristina could tell it was forced, but it was hard to concentrate, with those lips hovering over her ear lobe, teasing.
“Page me when he’s asleep,” Addison whispered, straightening up to her full height and exiting without ceremony, wishing Burke a goodnight.
Not for the first time that day Cristina wondered what the hell she was doing, taking practical lessons in opening Pandora’s Box.