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It’s a drunken accident, the first time you kiss her. (That’s what you tell yourself later, that it was an accident. That you didn’t really even mean it and she barely kissed you back, so an accident it was and an accident it will stay.)
It’s an accident and she’s barely kissing you back by the time you pull away and realize exactly what it is that you’ve done. A stuttered I’m sorry falls from your lips before you’re turning and walking away from her as fast as you can without breaking into a full out run. You ignore the last image of her that’s somehow seared itself into your brain — standing shocked in front of the hospital, eyes wide, fingers brushing the spot that your lips had just been — because you don’t want to think about it. You pretend that you don’t hear her when she calls after you, as well.
You see her with Derek later, when they’re heading home for the night, and she catches your eye from the second you walk in the lobby and silently raises a brow. But really, you don’t want to talk about it. You’d rather forget the fact that you kissed an attending (again) and regretted it (again).
Addison doesn’t seek you out after that.
You don’t talk about it.
Later, (days or weeks later, you don’t quite know anymore,) you’re assigned to her service again. You dread seeing her as you head up to the OB floor, but it’s— it’s fine.
Addison barely acknowledges that you kissed her and instead is nothing but strictly professional to you throughout the day. You can do strictly professional, so you throw yourself into the case. As you scrub into surgery with her sometime past lunch, she glances at you occasionally. Once, she looks at you, a crease in her brow like she has something to say but doesn’t quite know how to say it, and you look right back. She really looks like she wants to say something, hell, you almost want to say something, but neither of you gets the chance. Dr. Burke walks into the scrub room before either of you can get the words out.
Addison looks back down and focuses on her scrubbing. You do too.
(The surgery is a success.)
At the end of the surgery, Addison rewards you with a genuine smile and a Good job today, Dr. Grey. The praise makes you glow inside, just a little bit, even though it shouldn’t. (Kissing her was an accident. Feelings for the woman that upended your life stop at appreciation of her surgical skills, that’s all. )
With some effort, you push her from your mind and go home with George and Izzie. At least at home there aren't beautiful redheads with stunning smiles or dreamy curly-haired bosses to deal with. Home is your safe haven right now, and you take full advantage of it. You eat and laugh with your friends and then you get the little sleep you’re allowed before your next shift, and it’s nice. It’s nice, you think, staring at yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth, to not have a home life filled with ex-boyfriends and their stunning, infuriating wives.
(You dream of her that night, of fiery hair grasped between your fingertips and red, red lips firmly on yours.)
You’re still on her service the next day, and it’s not doing anything good for your already pitiful self-control. She walks in the patient’s room and you want to kiss her. She walks in and you want to run away.
You do neither of those things and instead present the patient to her.
The mother and child need surgery, so you scrub in with her. You already know you have no interest in OB, but it’s still fascinating to watch her work, to watch her fingers move, confident in the actions she’s performed dozens of times.
You tell her that, and she smiles at you again. Genuine.
The surgery ends, the day ends, and it hits you that you’re becoming something like friends.
In the end, it’s Addison who kisses you.
You’re not on her service this week, and you’re surprised to find that you miss her. You miss talking with her, sharing smiles with her, and it’s evident that she’s missed you as well, if not just as much because she kisses you hard. She pulls you closer by the waist and it’s not even embarrassing that you melt against her and rise on your toes a little bit, arms thrown around her neck.
Addison is all that you’ve been denying yourself, and when she kisses you, when she touches you, the voice in your head that tells you to stop being a fucking idiot and think, for once miraculously grinds to a halt. It’s hard to think, though, when she’s actively overwhelming all five of your senses in the middle of an unimportant hallway.
Hallway. Fuck.
You break away and take a step back, chest heaving, looking around. It’s a miracle that no one has spotted you. If anyone had, you know that the two of you would have been the talk of the hospital for weeks. Addison reaches out to you, a stricken look on her face. You look both ways down the hall again. Seeing no one, you pull her into the on-call room before she can even get the words out.
Before you know it, your back is pressed against the door and her lips are on yours again, needy and insistent. You push against her and the two of you fall onto the bottom bunk of one of the beds.
Time passes in a blur.
You’re laying there with her afterwards, threading the ends of her hair through your fingers. Idly, you realize that you fucking love her hair. It’s criminal that you haven’t been close enough to touch it before now, to touch her before now. You smile a little at the thought.
Her fingertips trace up and down your back when the thought strikes you that you’re not entirely sure where you’re supposed to go from here. There’s an awkward conversation somewhere in the near future, but not right now.
Not when your eyes shift upwards, and she’s already looking at you. Not when the soft, natural pink of her lips curves upward when she registers you staring. Not when she shifts forward after a beat, eyes locked on your lips.
No, you won’t talk now. You’d rather kiss her like this instead.
But with impeccable timing, your pager goes off so you get up with an apologetic, semi-awkward smile. You don’t know if you’re going to see her after this, if she’s going to want to see you after this, so you redress in a hurry.
Meredith, she says, soft, catching your hand as you pass on your way to the door. She sits up and you think she’s going to say more, say something to put you off forever, but instead all she gives you is a small smile, squeezing your hand in hers.
You squeeze back, before running to find Bailey. You’ll think more about Addison and the implications of the past few minutes later. Later, you’ll agonize over it. But for now, you’re okay.