Sam's had it for over four months now. Since the beginning of summer really, and as much as he'd like to pretend it's about romance, and build-up and waiting for the exact right moment, that's a bunch of crap. He had the exact right moment. Hell, it was exactly right because he planned it that way, made the reservations, bought the flowers, ordered the champagne. She had looked totally beautiful that night, smiling at him through candlelight from across the table and he had thought okay here it goes, here goes being a grown-up and getting the girl. Only he hadn't asked. And don't bother asking him why, because if he knew the answer to that he'd be spending this Thanksgiving ringing in the holiday with his new fiancée, not waving goodbye to her as she jumped on the train back home. Sam opted to stay in the city this year, hoping to use the time alone to figure out when he became such a fucking coward.

-o-

He's not sleeping, just staring up at the ceiling, idly plying with the ring as it sparkles even just off the dim light from his desk lamp. Maybe he should just hide it somewhere really obvious, somewhere she'll be bound to stumble across in the next week. Decision made, problem solved. Naomi had called earlier that night to wish him a happy Thanksgiving; she sounded relaxed, happy to be home around family.

He loved her. He wanted to be her family too. Right?

Lost in his thoughts of doubt and self-loathing, Sam almost misses the soft knocking outside the door. Stuffing the ring inside his pajama pocket, he shuffles to unlock it, sneaking a quick glance at the clock. 12:34 (make a wish!)

Possible visitors are lazily floating through his mind, when Addison's quiet voice calling out Naomi's name floats in from the other side. He opens the door to find her decked out in evening wear, arms crossed over her chest for warmth and her breath coming out in short little anxious puffs.

"Sam, hi. It's late, but I was just… Naomi? Is she here?"

"No," he says, grabbing her wrist to pull her in from the cold, "she's home for the weekend, remember?"

"Oh," Addison mumbles, her face falling. "Right. God. I… It's so late, Sam, I'm sorry. I'll just go."

"Wait," he says, leaning against the door before she can breeze back through it. "How did you get here?"

"I walked."

"You… walked? Addison, what – " He rubs the last little bit of sleep out of his eyes, and tries to keep himself from imagining worst case scenarios of wandering the city street in the middle of the night. "What the hell were you thinking? What's going on?"

"Don't yell at me! I've gotten enough of that for one night," Addison whines petulantly, her eyes crinkling in the corners, red from either crying or alcohol he finally notices, so this can't be good. Sighing, Sam gently guides her onto the couch before taking a seat next to her.

"I'm sorry. Look, I can be Naomi, tell me what happened," he pries, as she sinks further down into the cushions and kicks off her heels.

"You can't be Naomi."

"Yes, I can."

"You'll suck at being Naomi. Plus, you're…. you're Derek's friend so you'll just take his side."

"Ah," Sam nods, the pieces falling into place as he refrains from pointing out that he met Addison first, so really… but that's irrelevant. "It's a Derek thing."

"Don't do that," she snaps back. "Don't say it like that, like it makes it less important. And it's not a Derek thing because he didn't do anything wrong, it's not his fault I'm too fucked up to just get over everything and say yes, it's my fault, I'm the coward, I'm the one who's going to screw it up, so – "

"Say yes to what?"

She glares at him. The velvet box in his pocket suddenly becomes much heavier (Derek Shepherd would beat him to it. Cocky bastard.). "Oh."

Addison pulls her knees up to her chest and buries her face in them. "There is something seriously wrong with me."

"You said no?"

"I said maybe. Or I'd think about it, I don't remember, it was very awkward and his mom kept glaring at me."

Sam can't help a snort from slipping out of his mouth, which earns him a kick on the ankle. "He proposed in front of his mother?"

"It was Thanksgiving!" she protests, throwing her hands up wildly in the air. "We were at this beautiful restaurant and he had this speech all planned out and I just sat there like an idiot and then after we left his mother, who by the way hates me now more than ever, at the train station on the car ride home we got into this huge fight and I said why do we have to rush into anything and he said it's not rushing in, it's been two years, but what does two years have anything to do with it compared to forever…"

Sam feels like he should be interjecting with advice and encouragement but really, she makes a good point. "So… are you two…"

"I don't know. He dropped me back home and drove to Mark's." Addison's head falls onto his shoulder as she runs out of steam, and Sam instinctively grabs her hands from where it's laying dejectedly on her lap. "I've actually ruined this, haven't I?"

"Alright," Sam decides with a sigh, and untangles his fingers from Addison's long enough to reach into his pocket and throw the box onto the table. Her head tilts up from its resting place and she stares at it, eyes wide.

"Oh good God, not you too."

"Shut up," he says, nudging her. "I'm making a point. I've been carrying this around since… June, I guess. And there have been moments, great moments, when I could have asked her and didn't. If Naomi was here, she'd probably give you some great words about love and romance and commitment, and I might suck at doing that, but I can tell you that… you're not the only one who's scared."

They sit in silence for a few second, Addison's gaze flitting back and forth from Sam's face to the ring. It's nice to tell someone. He's been keeping it to himself out of fear that Naomi might find out too soon (that he might be forced into asking her too soon, making it too real) but this was nice, to let it go, even if nothing is said.

"Naomi," Addison starts slowly, "She'll say yes. Her parents are together, and happy. She'll say yes because she knows what it's like when it works out. But your dad left, and the Captain and Bizzy are… miserable. We know how bad it can get when it doesn't. So yeah. We're scared."

"I'm pretty sure that makes us sort of pathetic."

"Yes," she agrees amicably. "It's does." Addison stands up, balancing herself against the arm of the couch and she slips her shoes back on. "I'm sorry I woke you up, I'm gonna go."

"You're not walking back," Sam protests, "and I know you're not calling Derek. So just stay here."

"Sam –"

"No arguments," he retorts sternly. If Derek Shepherd can run and hide because he got his feelings hurt, then so can she. Plus, if he's completely honest, it'll be nice to spend at least some of the holiday weekend with someone. "You're staying, let me go find you some pajamas."

"I was just going to say thanks," she points out, grinning a bit despite the horrible night and uncomfortable days ahead.

"Thank me by staying on your side of the bed. And no hogging the covers."