10 reasons to ship Callie/Arizona!
For those of you who aren't members of shonda_land, there has been a challenge recently where we've been coming up with 10 reasons to ship 'our' ships. Callie/Arizona have been particularly popular! I thought I'd share mine here as well. Anyone else who went for Callie/Arizona, feel free to link here or post yours separately, too!
(Not creating a full header for the drabble since I won't bother putting it in the masterlist, but it's PG with one swear word and a post-ep teeny tiny drabble for 7x10)
1 drabble & 9 picspams
10. Because they sang to each other
09. Because they are wonderfully and ridiculously dorky
08. Because the talk is good
07. Because they bend for one another
06. Because when it matters, they're always usually there
05. Because they have lots of elevator moments, and the elevator is the heart and soul of Seattle Grace
04. Because they know just what the other needs
03. Because they continue to learn from and about each other
02. Because they challenge each other
01. Because there's nothing they can't come back from
You don’t think you’ve ever heard her cry like this, standing outside a door you’ve just shut in her face. Desperate sobs, worsened by what sounds like another case of laryngitis and her obvious exhaustion, muffled only by her hands as she struggles to hold herself together. Her walls are further down than you’ve ever seen them; perhaps even non-existent. You’ve always wanted her to let you in, to share that much of herself. But right now, you’d give anything to be able to give her back the strength that holds her up each day.
It makes it really fucking hard to be pissed at her when she’s crying like that. You reach for the doorknob, fingertips barely grazing it, before you snatch your hand away again. Indecision wars within. What are you supposed to do? Open the door and watch her cry? Hold her? You can’t do either. So instead you press your forehead to the door, eyes closed, willing her to feel your presence.
If she does, it doesn’t stop her crying.
Suddenly irritated, you reach for the doorknob again, intent on telling her that she didn’t have to stay and watch you cry in an airport so you shouldn’t have to listen to her now. If she’s going to cry, she needs to do it someplace where you can’t see or hear her.
But you don’t want her to leave. You’d rather she was outside so you can at least know that she’s still there.
Instead, you move away from the door one last time, fingers lingering on the cold wood. You sit awkwardly on the couch, arms clasping your knees to your chest, squeezing your fingers together tightly to stop yourself from getting up and opening that door. And you cry with her.
(Not creating a full header for the drabble since I won't bother putting it in the masterlist, but it's PG with one swear word and a post-ep teeny tiny drabble for 7x10)
1 drabble & 9 picspams
10. Because they sang to each other
09. Because they are wonderfully and ridiculously dorky
08. Because the talk is good
07. Because they bend for one another
06. Because when it matters, they're always usually there
05. Because they have lots of elevator moments, and the elevator is the heart and soul of Seattle Grace
04. Because they know just what the other needs
03. Because they continue to learn from and about each other
02. Because they challenge each other
01. Because there's nothing they can't come back from
You don’t think you’ve ever heard her cry like this, standing outside a door you’ve just shut in her face. Desperate sobs, worsened by what sounds like another case of laryngitis and her obvious exhaustion, muffled only by her hands as she struggles to hold herself together. Her walls are further down than you’ve ever seen them; perhaps even non-existent. You’ve always wanted her to let you in, to share that much of herself. But right now, you’d give anything to be able to give her back the strength that holds her up each day.
It makes it really fucking hard to be pissed at her when she’s crying like that. You reach for the doorknob, fingertips barely grazing it, before you snatch your hand away again. Indecision wars within. What are you supposed to do? Open the door and watch her cry? Hold her? You can’t do either. So instead you press your forehead to the door, eyes closed, willing her to feel your presence.
If she does, it doesn’t stop her crying.
Suddenly irritated, you reach for the doorknob again, intent on telling her that she didn’t have to stay and watch you cry in an airport so you shouldn’t have to listen to her now. If she’s going to cry, she needs to do it someplace where you can’t see or hear her.
But you don’t want her to leave. You’d rather she was outside so you can at least know that she’s still there.
Instead, you move away from the door one last time, fingers lingering on the cold wood. You sit awkwardly on the couch, arms clasping your knees to your chest, squeezing your fingers together tightly to stop yourself from getting up and opening that door. And you cry with her.