Jun 13, 2007 14:54
Title: Moodswing Whiskey
Pairing: Callie/Izzie (yeah, I know)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Rivals make the best lovers.
She apologized.
That’s not an excuse. NOT an excuse at all, Callie thought. It s not an excuse and she should probably push the skipper happy blonde away from her tits, but--damn, she’s good at what she’s doing, and all of her clothes are still in place--pretty much. She sighs and arches her back against Izzie’s bedroom door and she can make her bed out somewhere in the dark.
She should probably leave. She should push her away and leave. But she bought her a drink--drinks. Lots of alcoholic drinks that they consumed together and after some bitching, some glaring, lots of drinking, lots of apologizing from Izzie’s side, and after Joe had cut both of them off, Callie had finally agreed to come over to Meredith’s house, where they would, as Izzie had promised, empty out the liquor cabinet because there was not limit, but they never did quite got to the liquor cabinet. Callie thought it pointless once Izzie’s hand slid over her thigh on the cab ride to the house.
Instigator. You instigator. Izzie could hear her inner self saying. She was the instigator in this O’Malley triangle she had gotten herself tangled in. Again. So, her inner self was obviously sober and in a much coherent, clear thinking state than her actual self, so why wasn’t her inner self pulling her blonde, drunk, horny ass off of the she-O’Malley. Ex O’Malley. Torres. Formerly Torres-O’Malley. O’Malley. Whatever. Point being, she needed someone to peel her palms off the raven haired hottie moaning into her mouth because her body has a mind of its own and right now, it just wants to press tighter against her. At this point, Izzie also just wants to tell her inner self to shut the fuck up because Callie’s hands have now slipped under her shirt and over her bra covered breasts and her drunk self has no intention of asking her to stop.
I’m a bad, BAD person. Callie thought as she toed off her shoes and was soon fallen flat on her back on Izzie’s mattress. It should probably freak her out that this was where the adulterous sex happened. Where her marriage was officially dipped in boiling oil and it continued to dissolve slowly and painfully--and there goes her shirt. “This is so wrong.” She groans as Izzie palms her left breast and lets out an agreeing sound while her right one is being assaulted by her mouth. And her complaint would have sounded a lot more convincing if Izzie’s tongue wasn’t doing that thing it’s doing and if her skin didn’t feel so soft under her palm. She was drunk. They were both drunk. She can take comfort in that. Alcohol does things. Enhances things. Sensations. Sensations like the goose bumps forming on her skin as Izzie’s mouth leaves sloppy, drunken--god, incredible kisses down her ribcage, then traces a line with her tongue down her stomach, around her navel and stops at the waist of her jeans to unbutton them.
Izzie has now, with trouble and clumsy fingers, snapped Callie’s jeans open and pulled the zipper down. And her inner self is beginning to just go with it because Callie is wearing Sponge Bob Squarepants underwear that Izzie is almost sure she has in blue. She laughs at this and Callie lifts herself up, resting her weight on her shoulders, “What?” She asks breathless, and Izzie can’t help but smile as she crawled up her body and looked down on her, “Nothing. I was just starting not to hate you so much.” Callie laughs at this and grabs the back of Izzie’s head, pulling her down for a deep kiss, then turns her over on her back.
So, Callie has no idea in what time span it all happened exactly, all she knows is, she’s sweaty and panting, and straddling an equally sweaty and panty Izzie, who is knuckle deep finger fucking her and as the blonde kissed her and bit her bottom lip, Callie smirked, noting that the taste of Izzie Stevens is still very much present in her mouth and as she’s pushed on her back and Izzie is pushing her fingers impossibly deeper into her, aided by her hips, Callie cries out and reaches above her head for the headboard but is surprised, instead, grab the edge of the foot of the bed. She fumbles mindlessly for something to hold on to while Izzie is sucking hard on the swell of her breast and it occurs to her that it will most definitely leave a mark. The thought disappears however, when a hand runs slowly up her arm and fingers become entwined in hers--and just like that, her eyes shut close and her neck arches as mindless moaning and groaning of some sort escape her mouth and she has the most intense orgasm she’s had in a long time.
When morning comes, Callie is rudely awakened by a piercing stinging in her temple. Yep. She has a hangover. She groans and lifts her head, her hair quickly falling on her face. She doesn’t recognize her surroundings at first, and her throat is hoarse from, more than just the drinking, Callie notes this. Her heavy lidded eyes scan the room for a second and when she realizes that she is, in fact, naked, flashes of soft skin and alcohol and blonde hair come streaming back and she turns her head slowly, suddenly taking notice of the leg draped over her thigh. And there was the mess of blonde hair staring back at her. She looks over this person’s shoulder, just to make sure, and she winces when she sees that it is, in fact, Izzie Stevens sleeping next to her. Naked. “Shit.” Callie mutters to herself, and this causes another sharp pain to her head.
The first thing Izzie notices when she wakes up is that her body is tired and limp. In a good way. The second thing she notices is sickening feeling in the back of her throat and the lingering taste on her tongue of vodka. When Izzie hears a noise in her room, she freezes and remembers why all these feelings are coming to her simultaneously. She turns around and Callie Torres is fully dressed and fumbling around for, what Izzie thinks, is her shoes. “Hey.” Izzie says politely, because that’s what you say to someone who has just helped you undo the bed the way it is and who probably helped break the lamp on the floor next to the nightstand.
Callie turns her head sharply from where she’s finally found her shoes under a pile of pillows they never used and didn’t need. “Hey.” She says in that way that says she’s kind of desperate to leave to avoid an awkward moment.
Izzie sits up and notices Callie’s eyeliner is smeared. She lifts a blanket to cover her body and runs an awkward hand through her hair in an effort to smooth it out. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah.” Callie says, grabbing her jacket and purse from the floor, where they rested--under Izzie’s underwear. She turns to look at Izzie and smiles tightly. “Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.” Izzie says with a nervous giggle and waves as Callie bolts out of her room. She sighs and thinks for a second--I should give her a ride back. She hops out of bed, wrapping the white sheet tightly around her bodice and springs the door open, “Cal--” She freezes as Cristina and Meredith stand just outside the bathroom. Cristina with her toothbrush in her mouth and Meredith with her arms crossed, that all knowing shit eating grin plastered on her face. Izzie thinks she should explain, “She just--we talked--and--” She runs out of words and decides she doesn’t owe them explanations. She rolls her eyes and continues her walk of shame down the hall and down the stairs.
She opens the door and as she runs down the doorsteps, she remembers she’s pretty much anked under the sheet when the cold morning breeze hits her shoulders. “Callie!” She calls out to the woman who is standing with her cell phone in hand near the curve. “I can give you a ride back.” She says and realizes she’s shivering. “Just--come inside.”
“I called a cab. I’m good.” Callie says and prays to god that Izzie will just accept this and go back inside because they really shouldn’t have done what they did.
“Oh.” Izzie nods cheerfully and trying very hard not to sound like a girl who’d just slept with her best friend’s wife--right after sleeping with her best friend. “Do you want to get a drink tonight?” And just like that, she had become a definite instigator. She was taken aback at her own words. Did she really just ask Callie Torres out? What the hell was going on?
“I can’t.” Callie says, and she kind of, almost, sort of, feels bad at the look of disappointment on Izzie’s face. “But maybe tomorrow night.” Fuck it, she thinks. As long as they’re hammered…
“Okay.” Izzie smiles as Callie’s cab arrives and she steps in. She runs back inside as soon as it drives off, and once inside she is faced yet again with Meredith’s ’I can’t believe you’ face. “WHAT?” Izzie asks, irritated.
“Instigator.” Meredith says and shakes her head as she disappears into the kitchen. Izzie stops and realizes that maybe she’s okay with being the instigator--as long as she’s hammered. She shrugs and runs back up the stairs to get ready for work.
FIN