Hi! New fic.

This picks up after If/Then, the trippy alternate reality episode of season eight where Derek is grumpy and Meredith is sweet and everyone is on acid.

I've wanted to do a MerDer fic for a while now, and here it is; twenty minutes of stress writing brings to you a fic Iostensibly definitely should not be starting right now, which means I totally will.

There is a reason she does not drink. Not much, anyway.

She gets tipsy and then dizzy and then it's a short road from there to shitfaced and puking.

But last night, well, Yang taught her how to slam tequila. Yang. She couldn't say no - she was afraid the girl would whip out a scalpel and stab her. Or something.

And then Dr. Shepherd - Dr. Shepherd, of the sad eyes and frowny mouth - bought her a drink. Single malt scotch. Good stuff, he said. Actually, he bought her several drinks. Many drinks.

Good stuff.

She blinks awake to an unfamiliar ceiling, heavy drapes blocking the weak winter sunlight. An alarm clock to her right informs her, in red numbers, that it is six thirty in the morning, which means that she's already half an hour late for her shift. And to her left...is a man. Staring at her with his familiar sad eyes.

Actually, they don't look very sad right now. They look...mad. Mad. Oh, God. He's naked. She's naked.

They're naked.

This is not her bed.

This is humiliating on so many levels.

And now she's bolting for the bathroom, because there's a reason she doesn't drink.

..

Please tell me I didn't she begs her bleary-eyed reflection in the mirror.

He's her boss. He's her boss's boss.

He's her boss's boss's husband.

Crap.

She dabs at her mouth with a fluffy white towel, resting her throbbing head against the soft fibres for a second, her throat raw from throwing up. Her lips are puffy and her eyes are puffy and there's a faint bite mark on her neck.

She's wearing Alex's ring. She takes it off, realises she has no pocket to put it in, and puts it back on. It feels heavy, dragging her hand down. She'd like to flush it down the fancy-pants toilet, but it'd probably get stuck and flood the exquisite marble-tiled bathroom and then - Derek - would be really mad.

Why can't she remember what happened last night? All she remembers is Yang leaving and Shepherd sitting down next to her, and then maybe a car, and then this...warped reality where she's naked in her boss's bathroom.

Oh, God. Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd.

It's not mine he said morosely last night, clinking the ice in his glass. Okay, good. She remembers something. She assumes he meant the baby wasn't his...then who's is it?

Not that it's any of her business, just that it's sort of okay to screw another woman's husband if the woman is pregnant with her lovers baby. No, no it isn't. God, she's going straight to hell.

Thinking of Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd reminds of of Kepner. The bitch. Alex and Kepner - who would have thought?

And thinking of Alex and Kepner reminds her of her missed shift. Her mother is going to be livid.

Shit. Her mother. She never called home last night.

She needs to - she stops dead in her tracks, reaching for the locked door. Whatever transpired last night, she absolutely can not walk out into the bedroom stark naked.

Thankfully, there's a silky peachy-pink...thing hanging on the back of the door. It's clearly Addison's, and she balks at the idea of putting it on. She's stolen the woman's husband, stealing her clothes seems a little cruel.

But she yanks it on anyway, drawing the sash tightly so nothing shows. It's not meant to cover a lot, but it'll do.

He's frantically pawing through the closet when she walks in, dragging a shirt over his head, pulling on pants. She doesn't have the heart to tell him his socks don't match, especially when he says "Addison's in labor."

..

He grabs clothes that must belong to his wife, cramming them into a bag. Most people have a bag packed for the hospital, for the baby. They clearly don't, and he looks utterly out of his depth, so she takes pity on him and helps him pick a onesie and tiny socks and a cap out of the wardrobe in the nursery down the hall. It has zoo animals painstakingly painted on it, and she wonders which of them crouched for hours on the yellow-carpeted floor, wielding a brush, decorating for the baby he never seems excited about and she seems resigned to.

Did they do it together?

"You said -" her voice cracks, and she swallows. "You said it isn't yours. The baby, I mean."

"Addison's family." he says simply.

..

She has no business being here, like she had no business being in his bed last night. Their bed. The Shepherd's bed. She's officially a dirty mistress. But apparently she drove him home last night because she was slightly sobered up, and then he invited her in for a drink she most certainly should not have accepted, and then the rest is history she's eager to forget.

Anyway, his car was at Joe's and his wife is in labor. What was she supposed to do? Leave him there?

Her mother gives her a look filthier than what she's been doing when she shows up forty minutes late sporting wrinkled scrubs and clutching the hastily packed baby bag, bobbing in Shepherd's wake as he strides into Labor and Delivery.

"One at at a time." a nurse says, unconvincingly, looking intimidated by his wild-eyed expression.

"I'm one." he points out, then jabs a thumb in her direction. "She's not coming."

"No, there's already someone in there." she squeaks.

"Who?" he demands.

"Me."

Junkie Guy?

It's him, all six delicious feet of him, in navy scrubs and a smirk. Why is she noticing men?

Well, she's allowed. It's not like she's engaged or anything.

"What are you doing here?" Junkie Guy asks smoothly, shifting his weight so that they can't see past the door as it closes behind him. But she hears a soft cry of pain, and Shepherd's shoulders stiffen.

"I'm her husband."

"Nice to see you remember that."

"Mark, I swear -"

"Yeah, yeah," Junkie Guy - Mark? - sighs, moving aside so Shepherd can go inside. "She wants you. Can't see why, but she does. And she was never a very good liar, not that you remembered that last night, but don't believe a word she says in there."

And just like that it's just her and Mark and the bulging bag in the hallway, and he's smirking at her.

"I assume you're the slutty intern?"

Okay, so this is clearly the morning-after. Addison's in labor, Mark's there, Derek's there, Meredith's there, it's a freaking mess.

I've always liked preppy goody-two-shoes Meredith from that episode, and misery-Derek and cocky Mark and victimised Addison.

Mark and Addison are my two fave people on Grey's, and they inevitably feature in my fics, but this is not Addek.

NOT ADDEK you say? I'm trying to write something different for once.

This is, I promise, MerDer endgame. With Maddison.

Like it? Not?

Let me know!