Prompted by Rachael: she can't resist Addison/Izzie, and I can't resist her requests. This takes place sometime fairly soon after Addison's visit to Seattle in Season 4 of Grey's Anatomy/Season 1 of Private Practice. It's wildly out of date. But those were the days...

The Go-To Person for Adultery

Izzie Stevens rings her bell just past seven on a Tuesday and it's somehow more shocking than if she'd shown up in the middle of the night.

"Is your hair red again?" she asks through the door.

One hand flies up to touch her still-dark hair. "No."

"It should be," Stevens shrugs, slinging her duffel over her shoulder. "Can I come in?"

Addison steps back without a word and lets this remnant of her brief stint in Seattle trail all over her new life in LA. On autopilot she offers a glass of wine and they end up side by side on Addison's deck while the sun sinks into a picturesque rolling sea.

"I don't see a lot of sunsets in Seattle," Stevens admits finally.

"Fog?"

"Work."

"Right." Addison drains her glass, pours another. "Well. Things are a little different in private practice."

"Need another doctor at that practice...?"

Tactfully, they both pretend she's joking.

Addison is a green-juice drinking, relaxed, west coast woman now, so she doesn't pressure Stevens about why she's here. She agrees to order Thai food and swap catch-up stories about their respective work. Finally, with only half a spring roll left on the platter they'd dragged out to the deck, Addison asks: "Does this have something to do with what you told me when I was in Seattle?"

Stevens chews on the straw she'd been dipping in and out of her iced tea. "Everyone at Seattle Grace hates me."

Addison snorts lightly. "I've been there. It goes away."

"I broke up a marriage."

"I've been there too."

"I had a baby," Stevens blurts suddenly. "I had a baby and I gave her away."

Addison opens another bottle of wine and as the corkscrew finally heaves its way out of the solid green glass she says: "I aborted mine."

Stevens's blue eyes widen over the rim of her wineglass. "Derek-"

"Mark."

"Oh."

After a pause, Stevens says, "I think he still misses you, for what it's worth."

"It's not worth much."

"Do you like it out here?" Stevens asks softly when they're finishing off the second bottle.

The fourth glass made her honest so Addison leans back in her chair. "I don't really like it in here," she says finally, gesturing vaguely at the contours of her body, "so I might as well be on the ocean to do it, you know?"

"Yeah."

"You're not going to fix everything if you run away here, Stevens."

"Izzie."

"Whatever."

"You ran away here."

"And is anything fixed?"

"I don't know." Stevens leans forward, eyes glittering in the low light of the hanging lantern. "Is it?"

"I don't know either."

Abruptly Stevens stands up, wobbling slightly. "I want to feel the ocean," she says and she pushes through the open gate before Addison can stop her.

Addison trails the other woman to the water's edge. "Stevens - Izzie, are you sure you're-"

Stevens finishes the sentence for her by slipping in an ankle-high wave and plunging face first into the water.

"Stevens!"

Her blonde head surfaces before Addison reaches her; wrapping a hand around either bicep, she hauls her torso from the water.

"It's coooolder than it looks!" Stevens suddenly sounds very drunk and Addison suddenly feels more than a little worried.

"Stevens. Izzie, sit up, okay-" Addison is wrestling her to her knees, or trying to, when they both slip and Addison finds herself soaking wet, still in soft lounge pants and a tank top, hair fanning around her face and the sudden soft weight of Dr. Stevens collapsing on top of her.

"Izzie!" Addison struggles underneath the unfamiliar weight of her, she's not heavy exactly but large and soft and everywhere; they're just about the same height so Izzie covers her from head to foot, wet cheek wriggling against Addison's own, shoulder bones knocking each other's, the surprising swell of breasts against hers, hip to hip, one long thigh against another and finally feet as large as hers, with icy cold toes - when did they kick their shoes off?

Addison is barely making sense of the senses when a wave rolls over both of them, leaving Stevens coughing and Addison spitting sand out of her mouth.

"Get up. Come on, Stevens, get up." Addison drags them both to their knees, finally - the one time it would be nice if Sam wandered down the beach, she could use his help, of course he's nowhere to be seen. "Stevens!"

Addison grabs a sodden arm - Stevens is in a long-sleeved henley straight from Seattle - and slings it around her neck, then wraps her own arm around the soft curve of the other woman's waist. "Walk. Walk," she adds more sharply and, thankfully, Stevens takes one wobbling step after another.

"Sorry," she mumbles as Addison guides them both over the threshold and into the house, leaving trails of salty-smelling water across the floor.

"It's okay," Addison sighs.

Stevens trembles violently, teeth starting to chatter. "It's freezing, it's supposed to be warm here-"

"It's not supposed to be warm at night in your clothes in the ocean!" Addison, still a Montgomery, has snapped back to surprising sobriety. It's the adrenaline, she thinks.

"You just need a hot shower. You're fine." Addison maneuvers them both upstairs, leaving a trail of water behind them, and sees the other woman's eyes widen as she takes in the large bathroom in the second-floor hall. There's a good-sized octagonal glassed-in walk-through shower - Addison's not sure Stevens is in any shape to step into a tub - and Stevens runs a questing hand over the cool marble surfaces.

"Your stuff is so fancy," she sighs, and Addison smiles in spite of herself.

"Sit." She pushes Stevens down gently on the little padded vanity stool, and she slumps down obediently. Addison turns the taps on hard; soon, the room billows with steam.

"Stevens - Stevens!" Addison grabs her shoulders, pulling her back upright. "Sit up."

Stevens reaches for her shirt, misses completely, and falls forward against Addison, who catches her with some effort and hoists her back onto the stool.

"Just - okay, sit still, let me help you."

Stevens slumps sideways in a relatively obliging manner and Addison, after a slight pause, grips the sodden hem of her henley and pulls it off over her head. Stevens immediately shivers and Addison trains her eyes away from the soft flesh spilling from the lace cups of her bra. Addison's well aware of Dr. Stevens's model past and it's obvious how she made her living now: Addison knows her own figure is relatively admirable, she's seen plenty of attractive women in locker rooms and college dorms but Stevens is something else, almost cartoonishly curvaceous, the swell of her breasts giving way to a drastically tapered waist. Flinching slightly, Addison helps her rise and does her best to unbutton the fly of soaking wet jeans. Under her hands the flare of the other woman's hips is obvious

Addison grunts slightly - wet denim is almost impossible to manipulate and she curses softly as she fails, yet again, to work the button through the hole.

Stevens giggles and bats at her hands. "You're tickling me."

"Just - can you do it yourself?" Addison pleads and Stevens, in response, picks up a strand of Addison's long hair and says "Does the carpet match the - um - " and laughs until a tear runs down one rounded cheek.

Oh, brother.

Addison unclenches those fingers from her hair and finally, thankfully, gets the fly of Stevens's jeans open and works the wet denim as gently as she can down her hips, trying not to look too closely. Addison's as heterosexual as they come, boy-crazy even, what did they call her at Seattle Grace? A maneater? But Stevens is something else, and Addison doesn't want to embarrass either of them.

"Can you do the rest, at least?" If she sounds like she's begging, it's because she is. Addison's on her knees on the fluffy white bathroom rug now, her face about an inch from the pink lace panels of Dr. Stevens's sodden panties. The room smells like the ocean and there's a roaring sound in Addison's ears as, resisting the urge to close her eyes, she peels the wet fabric and lets it drop to the floor.

"I waxed for him," Stevens wails suddenly. "It hurt like a bitch."

"Don't lingerie models have to wax?" Her curiousity gets the best of her.

"Not - everything," Stevens whispers. "Just the parts from inside, I mean outside, the stuff." She giggles again. "Make the bathroom stop spinning, Dr. Gontmomery."

"I'll try." Addison suddenly realizes she's still pretty drunk herself. So much for adrenaline.

"Can you take your bra off?"

"Can you take your bra off?" Stevens giggles again.

Addison sighs, gets to her surprisingly shaky feet and reaches for Stevens again.

"Wanna dance?"

Addison pushes her shoulders back gently. "No, just - okay, stand still - " and awkwardly, she wraps her arms around the other woman and unclasps the two metal hooks holding her bra closed.

"Without looking! Wow!" Stevens beams.

Addison lets the lacy scrap of fabric fall to the ground.

Stevens props her hands on her hips. "Do I still got it?" Addison notes ruefully that her breasts are the exact shape they were in the bra, their buoyancy seemingly defying gravity. Ah, youth. The golden flesh is capped with the deepest of pink, the hue so rosy Addison would assume it was photoshopped in a catalogue. Did assume it, in fact, the time she caught Derek with one in New York.

"Dr. Stevens-"

"I let myself go," she moans. "It's why George doesn't want me."

Addison shakes her head, hoping it's just water in her ears. "Stevens, I really don't want to hear this."

"No one wants to hear it," she says mournfully. "I'm the other woman, the other woman, and no one likes the other woman, except, you know, the other man," and then she starts laughing again.

"Let's get you in the shower."

Addison gestures toward the still-open glass door and, when Stevens just looks at her with confusion, finally puts an arm around her shoulder and guides her to the threshold of the marble shower. "Go on."

Stevens puts a toe in and pulls it back. "It's too wet!"

"It's a shower!"

"Come in with me?"

"Stevens-"

"I might slip!" Stevens's blue eyes are huge with worry and Addison sighs.

"Fine. Just-" Addison pulls her tank top over her head and shucks her lounge pants. It's just like the hospital locker room, it's no big deal.

"Pretty!" Stevens squeals with delight, and suddenly one of her hands is wrapping around the blue satin bra. Addison swats her hand down.

"Ow!"

"Sorry. Just - let's just get you warmed up, okay?"

"Come in with me!" Stevens insists again and Addison finally just wraps her arm around her and maneuvers them both into the shower.

"Ohhhh," Stevens moans softly as the hot water sluices around them. The jets are powerful and the octagonal shape means that the spray is everywhere, pounding sore muscles.

"You're wearing your clothes still," Stevens giggles.

"Well, someone has to."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." Addison busies herself squeezing a palmful of fig-scented shower gel between her hands and offering it to Stevens.

"Is it ice cream?"

"Dr. Stevens!" When the blonde darts a pink tongue from between her lips, seemingly reaching for the fragrant gel, Addison yanks her hand back.

"Okay, okay." And she steels herself to the task, rubs the gel into bubbles, and briskly smoothes it over Stevens's shoulders and arms and -

"That tickles!"

"So do it yourself!"

"Do my back?" Stevens's tone is cajoling now and Addison sighs.

"Turn around."

She does so and Addison strokes both her hands down the plane of her surprisingly muscular back. Soaping up someone else in the shower is nothing new to her - with flushing cheeks she remembers more than one particularly memorable time with Derek, and with Mark - but the sensation of soft female skin under her fingers is strange. Strangeness within a familiar environment, like the way the LA sun penetrates the windows of the hospital here, and as much as a white coat, a stethoscope, a scrub cap feel like home to her, the unnatural brightness still rings strange like a headache.

Stevens moans with pleasure suddenly, startling her, and she freezes with something like guilt as her hands travel from the planes of her back to the faint but detectable dimples at the tops of her buttocks.

Now she pulls her hands off as if she's been burned.

"Don't stop!"

"Dr. Stevens-"

"Please?" Stevens turns around, blue eyes wide. "Please, Dr.-"

"Addison."

"Dr. Addison."

"Look, Stevens-"

But Stevens just leans forward, damp lips fitting with surprising ease into the curve of Addison's ear as she whispers: "Turnabout's fair play, at least..."

Addison has only a second to be confused while Stevens, who is apparently sobering up, makes short work of the blue satin protecting what's left of Addison's modesty.

"Hey!"

"Hot water is terrible for lingerie," Stevens says reprovingly, and with a wicked grin she reaches for the waistband of the simple white silk-

"Stevens, wait-"

"They're see-through anyway," Stevens protests, and with surprising dexterity she whisks them to the marble floor.

"They-"

"I looked," Stevens admits, grinning ruefully. "I see the carpet matched the other drapes, which is kind of a relief."

Addison folds her arms around her breasts. "Do you mind?" she asks with as much dignity as she can while hot water pours over her naked body and the very naked body in front of her.

"Not at all," Stevens beams. "This is, like, the most fun I've had in a while, seriously."

"Dr. Stevens."

"I see you're old school though," she muses, and as the younger woman's fingers brush lightly through the curls Addison keeps somewhat natural - but neatly trimmed, thank you - it's finally too much, instinct takes over, and the next sound out of the shower is a surprised squeak as Izzie's back hits the marble wall.

Then there are no sounds for a moment except flesh meeting flesh.

Addison pulls away first. "Sorry."

Stevens tongues her slightly swollen lower lip experimentally. "I'm not."

Then it's Addison's turn to squeak, her turn to hit the opposite wall this time, upsetting a wooden bath brush and a pastel-colored pouffe, which floats slowly to their feet.

"Um, Stevens- oh, god," Addison can't help muttering as those sharp little teeth fasten onto her neck.

"You're way hotter than George," Stevens sighs into her hair and Addison grabs both her shoulders and shoves back.

"Gee, thanks."

"Did I say something wrong?" Stevens is molding her hands with surprising expertise around Addison's hips, in a way that makes her think this isn't that unfamiliar to her, and Addison tips her head back against the waterfall marble wall and lets herself enjoy it, until-

"Oh my god!"

Stevens rears back, still on her knees. "What?"

"Don't-"

"Don't what?"

"Don't - " Addison moans in spite of herself, she's such a fucking cliche, but - "Don't stop."

"Roger that," and Stevens's head disappears again.

As Addison slides down the wall several satisfying minutes later, she decides Stevens is the best houseguest she's ever had. Fuck water bills and paperwork, they slump in a tangle of limbs on the floor of the shower while hot steam cascades around them. It smells like Addison's fig shower gel, sweet and tangy at once, and the heady fragrance of sex. Doubled. Addison reaches blindly for the softness surrounding her and her palms are filled with the flesh a whole industry has fantasized about.

For good reason, too. She's fig-slippery, her skin impossibly silky, and the puckered roses that expand into Addison's hands cause an answering pulse between her thighs.

"What are we doing?" Addison whispers, suddenly the student instead of the teacher.

Stevens's voice is reassuring: "Just getting warm, like you said," and then she tangles her fingers in long, dark wet hair and guides Addison's head to the swell of her breasts, the softness of her belly, the curve of each hip, and then -

"Oh!" Stevens's hips rise off the marble floor as Addison suddenly understands two decades of men insisting it wasn't a favor, wasn't a chore, but they didn't explain it to her properly, how it's like splitting open a shell to dive into the ocean, the potent feeling of opening her mouth to flesh that seems to be striving to kiss her back. She has no idea what she's doing except that she doesn't want to stop, and apparently enthusiasm is half the battle because satin thighs somehow wrap themselves around her neck until Addison is afraid they might both drown but what a way to go, what a fucking way to go-

"Addison!"

"I'm fine." She struggles to sit up.

"Did you - like - pass out?"

"Of course not!" And the moment is over, so they tactfully help each other to their feet, Addison shuts off the taps and they wrap themselves modestly in enormous, fluffy white towels.

"I'm much warmer now," Stevens offers politely, as she steps delicately around the cast off wet clothes that litter the bathroom floor

"Me too," Addison admits and suddenly, as she grabs an armful of extra blankets for the guest room, she realizes that she's ready to go back to red hair.

They don't mention it again until Dr. Stevens leaves in the morning. Addison doesn't have any appointments until noon, so she drives her to LAX in her open-top car, both their hair blowing in the wind. Stevens gets out of the car, slings her bag over her shoulder, then turns back.

"It looks good dark too, you know."

Addison smiles. "Thanks."

"Dr. Montgomery?"

"Addison."

"Right. Addison?"

"Yeah, Izzie."

"It did help. Coming out here."

"So don't be a stranger," Addison says, and lets a smile play on her lips as the tall figure slowly disappears into the terminal.

Done? Review and tell me Rach isn't the only one who likes these two together...