Again, this is for the PP Secret Santa.




This one's for "liveitupalittle" who asked for Addison to get nostalgic about not spending Christmas with Derek since it was their season, someone or multiple people trying to cheer her up, and gingerbread cookies. :)






Teary eyed and heavy hearted, Addison closes her eyes as the rhythmic drum beat of Little Drummer Boy comes to a close. Despite her closed office door, the sounds of the practice’s Christmas Party still penetrate through giving her no other option than to acknowledge the holiday she would much rather forget. She’s sure that her colleagues, friends, and patients are convinced that she is a direct descendent of Ebenezer Scrooge, but she can’t bring herself to care—not enough, anyway, to plaster on a fake smile, and laugh and tell stories as if her heart isn’t breaking inside of her. Normally, she is relatively good at this—at pretending that she’s okay and that she’s content with the twists and turns that her life has taken in recent months. But the dulled pain which brands her heart and serves as a reminder of her sins, aches with a renewed vengeance—piercing through her heart and down into her stomach until the nauseated feeling that had been laying dormant in her stomach extends through her limbs until her whole body aches.

In truth, she’s accepted the failure of her marriage and assumed responsibility for part in the downfall. She no longer resents Derek and, for the most part, she’s forgiven herself for the events that transpired, accepting that perhaps, it just wasn’t meant to be. In her heart she knows that she fought hard to save their dying marriage—she fought in vain against the currents that pushed them further and further away from one another and she put her heart and soul into that fight. At least she can say that she tried. While the relationship ended, a new one began; she and Derek still speak on occasion, forming a sort of friendship which stands as a reminder to her that though their marriage had failed, the years they spent together weren’t for nothing.

But a distant friendship does little to warm her heart and did even less to trump over her insecurities. The fact of the matter is that even though she is over Derek and accepts what had happened, she still misses him. Deep down she knows that it isn’t him that she misses, but having someone that she misses—someone to share the joys and sorrows of life with. She misses being able to come home and tell a story, to laugh with or be consoled by; she misses the security of knowing that someone else cares, and the feeling of being loved. And at this time of year, that lonesome feeling that she had was accentuated not simply because of the holiday, but because of what the holidays had been for them—how it had once been their season.

~*~

A soft knock rasps against the door, and Naomi meekly pokes her head into Addison’s office. “Hey,” she begins with a soft grin and even softer tone, “You’re not going to join us?”

Addison shakes her head looking back to her computer screen. Though her fingers rest on the keys, they don’t move, “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Oh, come on, Addie. It’s Christmas—Christmas will come and go, but work will be here forever.”

Addison grins weakly, shaking her head as she looks up at Naomi with apologetic eyes that say she wishes she could, but simply can’t. “No, this really…needs to get done.”

“Addie, at least come out for a little,” Naomi sighs.

But Addison shakes her head, “I just…” she stops and inhales a deep breath, “I just need to…get this done.”

“Okay,” Naomi relents, “But, if you change your mind.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“There’s a cup of eggnog with your name on it, you know,” Naomi says in one last attempt to sway her friend.

But Addison shakes her head, “Maybe later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Naomi nods in defeat, as she steps back and closes the door.

~*~

The warm, orange sun fell low over the blue ocean, sending its rays glimmering down over the ocean. Turning her desk chair to her window, Addison stares out at it—blankly lost in the serene image that just doesn’t shout out Christmas. She’s grateful for a non-white Christmas and the lack of falling snowflakes because it’s a distraction. While the date on the calendar is clear, the outside world is less transparent and allows her to lose herself in mundane sameness. Even though it never lasts long, it is a welcomed retreat from reality—even if it only lasts a couple of minutes.

Gathering together a stack of files, Addison drops them into her brief case before gathering another and larger stack to cradle in her arm—the more paperwork she walks out of her office with the busier she hopes to appear.

Inhaling a deep breath, Addison starts forward, opening her door and stepping out into the Christmas festivities. Decorations hang around the counters and from the ceiling. Bowls of punch and eggnog rest on the front desk along with trays of cookies and holiday themed snacks. Christmas music plays overhead and the plasma TV screen which normally airs advertisements for the practice has a holiday-themed slideshow which is accentuated with Christmas carols. O’ Come All Ye Faithful plays as her colleagues mingled with some of their regular patients.

Patients smile at her and nod, murmuring holiday wishes and blessings. With a warm smile she returns them, but keeps on a steady pace towards the elevator.

“Addison, hey!” Sam shouts, as he makes his way towards her, “Where are you going.”

“Oh, I’m just going to…go home,” she states, trying her best to muster up a genuine smile. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“But…”

“You’re leaving?” Charlotte calls from across the lobby, as she walks over to Addison and Sam. “If I can get my Christmas Cheer on, Montgomery, so can you.”

Addison shakes her head, “I don’t think that’s…”

“Addison, come on,” Dell says, joining into the gathering circle. “Just stay for a little bit.” He grins brightly. “I brought my grandmother’s cake.”

“And it’s really good!” Naomi calls, hoisting a paper plate with a wedge of chocolate cake displayed.

“It has peppermint in it,” Dell adds with a nod, as though the vigor of his nod might possibly sway her into staying.

“Thank you, but…I think I’ll pass.” She pats the stack of files positioned against the crook of her elbow and nods towards them, “I’ve got a lot of work to do, Dell.”

Narrowing his eyes he looks at the green and manila envelopes. “Those are patient files.”

“Yeah…”

“What are you doing with them?”

“Entering them into the new system—new patients and old patients.”

“Addison, that’s my job,” Dell begins, shaking his head, “You don’t have to…”

“I know,” Addison assures him with a soft smile, “I want to though, considering it…as my Christmas gift to you.”

To her relief the elevator bell dings to announce its arrival and the metal doors slide open. Quickly stepping inside, Addison smiles at the crowed room, “Merry Christmas,” she says in a sincerely sweet voice, as the doors close in front of her, just as It Came Upon a Midnight Clear beings to play over the loud speaker. She’s grateful as the sound drifts further and further away as the elevator sinks from the fifth floor to the main floor, but though the steel doors blocked the sound of the carol, it doesn’t block the memories associated with it. Stepping of the elevator, Addison bats her hand against her eyes, wiping away the warm tears as memories of her last Christmas with Derek flooded her conscious.

~*~

With her legs curled beneath her, Addison is cuddled up on the couch with a blanket, her laptop and a myriad of patient files. For the last hour, work has been a successful distraction—it helps that there were no decorations, Christmas carols or spirited people around her to remind her of what this day is. With her blinds drawn, she can’t see the Christmas lights which hang from Sam’s rooftop, and the TV remains off so that hourly airings of White Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street won’t mistakenly be happened upon. Christmas Eve is nearly forgotten—an accomplishment Addison is quite proud of.

The quiet is marred by the sound of her doorbell, ringing through the house and Addison groans as the sound persists. Part of her wonders if she ignores the bell if whoever is ringing it will simply go away—but the thought is shattered as the bell rings again and again and again.

Padding towards the door, Addison narrows her eyes as she realizes the culprit to be Pete. Privately wondering if this is better or worse than Carolers, she opens the door and smiles weakly. “Hi…”

“Hey,” Pete grins back with a nervousness that hints towards uncertainty. “I, um, I wanted to come by and see how you were.”

“Fine,” Addison replies easily, the act of lying about her feelings is one that she’s used. “Great, actually. I’m getting a lot done.”

“A lot done,” he repeats, narrowing his eyes at her once more as a sly grin stretches across his lips. “You’re really working. I thought, when you left the practice this afternoon, that you were lying about actually working…that maybe you had other plans.” He shrugs, “Real plans.”

“Working is…real.”

“It’s Christmas, Addison.”

“Just because it’s Christmas doesn’t mean the world stops.”

“Actually, it sort of does.”

“The work is still going to be there after the holiday,” Addison retorts, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. “So, no. It doesn’t just stop. People just pretend that it does.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Pete nods, “That’s something you know about—pretending, I mean.”

“What?”

“I know about it, too,” he confides. “Christmas is tough.”

“Yeah,” Addison admits softly, lowering her eyes, “It is.”

“It was special for you…and your ex…wasn’t it?” Pete asks, clearing his throat, fully aware that he’s treading on thin ice and approaching a very personal topic. When she doesn’t reply, he nods, clearing his throat once more—personal needs to be matched with personal. “It was for me and Anna, too. Christmas was the one time of year when she seemed…human.”

Addison looks up, and though she has no words that she’s ready to say, she nods and steps aside. “Do you want to come in?” She asks timidly.

With a soft grin, Pete nods, “Yeah.”

“This probably seems really…” Shaking her head, she was a t a loss of words.

Stepping inside he glances over at her, and she averts his eyes, suddenly feeling inexplicable embarrassment. “It doesn’t seem like anything,” he tells her gently, keeping his eyes on her until she looks up. With a small grin he nods, “I get it though. Really, I do.”

“How can you get it? I don’t even get it.” Shaking her head, she steps past him. “I’m over him, I just…”

“It’s just hard being alone.”

Her lips purse and her head bobbles back and forth in a nod and a look of disbelief clouds her eyes, “Y-yeah.”

“I told you,” Pete tells her calmly, “I get it.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Addison nods towards the paper bag Pete’s cradling his arm. “What’s that?”

“A distraction.”

“Do I even I want to know?” Addison sighs with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Pete laughs, “I don’t know how to bake…do you?”

Her eyes widen, “What?”

“Do you know how to bake?”

“Um…kind of.”

“Well, my wife had this gingerbread recipe and…I’ve never tried it, but…I thought maybe we could give it a whirl.”

“You want to bake cookies?” Again her eyes widen, “You came here to bake cookies.”

Pete shrugs his shoulder innocently, as he steps past her towards the kitchen. “That’s what people do around the holidays, right?” He muses, not willing to tell her that the real reason he came over isn’t purely selfless—that he doesn’t want to be alone either.

Addison turns, and watches him set the bag down on the island in the middle of her kitchen and begin to unpack it. “Yeah…I guess so,” she replies as she starts towards him, not even realizing that she’s no longer thinking about being alone.

~*~

Addison’s kitchen counter is covered in trays of gingerbread men and women, bowls of half-used dough and tubes of brightly colored icing. Small piles of flour are scattered amid the rows, the on the rims of bowls, on the floor and practically everything else in the kitchen. The radio is on and their feet tap to the beat of whatever carol is playing, as they draw outfits, faces and other details onto their cookies.

Addison laughs out as Pete his cookie. “How does she look?” He asks with a wide grin that looks much like a five year old who was presenting his mother with an unidentifiable drawing.

The cookie is decorated with pinks and purples and whites to create a sweater and pants and jewelry for the ginger-person. “Great…except that she…is actually a he,” Addison replies, trying her best to stifle her laugher, as she holds up her own gingerbread creation. “See, yours doesn’t have the skirt…like mine does.”

Pete’s eyes trailed from Addison’s cookie to his own, and his lips tightened. “She’s…”

“A he?”

Laughing, Pete looks up at her, eyes sparkling and a smile stretching across his lips. “Don’t judge my cookie.”

“I’m not!” Addison laughs and holds up her hands, “I swear, I’m not…”

“You are! Just because he’s a cross dresser…”

Addison motions towards Pete’s cookie, and opens her mouth to reply, but words fail her as her own cookie falls from her hand landing directly onto of Pete’s. Pete just stares down at the cookies, his lips tightening as he holds back his laughter; Addison cracks first, laughing out.

“Your cookie just attacked my cookie,” Pete tells her, trying in vain to sound offended and serious. It’s a moot point because as soon as he looks up at her he cannot hold back and bursts out laughing along with her.

“No, no, no. It’s not an attack,” Addison insists as she tries to catch her breath. “It’s not!”

“Oh, no?” Pete counters, “Then what is it?”

“She…likes him,” Addison replies innocently.

“He’s a cross dresser,” Pete states as contrary evidence.

“If I can’t judge your cookie’s choices, you can’t judge my cookie’s!”

For a moment, they both stare at each other with serious faces and laughing eyes. Their faces redden as each tries to outlast the other, neither wanting to crack first. Addison’s mouth twitches into a smile, and as soon as she does Pete laughs out, unable to hold back any longer; and as soon as Pete laughs, Addison starts laughing, too. They laugh until their sides ache and until tears stream down from their eyes.

Slowly breathing in and out, Pete and Addison attempt to catch their breath, erupting in short bouts of giggles as they attempt to regain composure.

“You…um…you have a little bit of…” Pete stammers as he brushes his fingers against his own cheek, “…flour…on your cheek.”

“Oh,” Addison replies in a giggly voice, as her bats her hand over her cheek. “Did I get it?”

Pete shakes his head, “No…”

Addison repeats the move, and looks up at him, “Now?”

Again, he shakes his head, this time reaching out and brushing his hand against her cheek and brushing away the white powdery flour. “There,” he replies softly, suddenly regaining his composure.

“Thank you for…,” Addison begins in a serious and sincere voice as she reaches up and holds his hand in place against her cheek. “Just thank you,” she says again.

“Anytime,” Pete replies softly and in equal sincerity.

For a moment, they both stand perfectly still, not blinking and barely breathing. Again, it’s Addison who cracks first.

Leaning up on her toes, she leans in and presses her lips against his, capturing his bottom lip between hers. It doesn’t take Pete long to respond, slowly letting his hands slip from her cheek to the back of her neck as he drew her closer.

Breathlessly, Addison pulls back. And again, time seems to freeze; but this time, it was Pete who cracks first. “I, um…I guess that makes up for your cookie assaulting mine.”

Addison grins, “She didn’t assault him. I told you—she likes him.”

“Right,” Pete nods, as he looks back to the counter. “So…uh…what are we going to do with…seventy-seven gingerbread cookies?”

“I, um…I don’t really know,” she replies.

A sly grin forms over Pete’s lips, “We could…decorate some…dirtily.”

“Dirty cookie decorations?” Addison asks, turning to face him.

“Why not? What else are we going to do with them?”

Addison looks down at the cookies before laughing out, “I have no idea.”

Pete picks up two tubes of icing and hands one to Addison. “I’m having more fun than I thought I would,” he admits. “A lot more fun.”

“Yeah,” Addison nods, “I am, too.”