Fanfic: City of Black and White (4/?)
Title: City of Black and White (4/?)
Author: elpmas03
Rating: PG13 (NC17 eventually)
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary: Yay I’m finally happy with this part! Woot woot! I haven’t written the next few chapters yet because I’ve been so focused on this one, so it could be a few more days before they’re up. Read away!
Callie
She’s acting weird again, fumbling around with the stacks of papers sitting on the conference table between the two of us. It’s been a reoccurring theme over the past week and at first I didn’t think anything of it, but lately I’ve been taking mental notes. And I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s extra clumsy whenever someone mentions George.
I still remember the shocked look on her face when he introduced himself as my husband. I guess it was partly my fault; it’s not that I didn’t want to tell her, I just didn’t think about it. Which is strange because it’s usually one of the first things I tell people…or at least it used to be one of the first things. You know…before all of the cheating and lying happened. The rest of the night at Joe’s she seemed distracted, only speaking when someone asked her a question and even heading home relatively early in the evening. And the next day, I got the distinct feeling that she was avoiding me. At least, she was avoiding me until we got paired on a case together. A case that’s the reason we’ve been sitting in a conference room for the past three hours, reading through medical journals and articles to try and help save this 13-year-old boy with a severe case of scoliosis.
This time her awkwardness appeared when George stopped by to cancel dinner plans with me yet again. After he apologized for about the fourth time, she proceeded to spill her coffee on the floor beneath her and stammer in embarrassment. Now that everything is cleaned up and we’re back to work, the silence between us is more uncomfortable than we’re used to. Normally, I could sit in a room alone with her and be okay with, even welcome, the silence between us, but I can sense she wants to say something.
“So, no dinner plans tonight, then?” she asks hesitantly after a few more minutes. I can tell she’s trying to ease my frustration about George’s cancellation and it warms my heart a little to know that she cares enough to even try.
“Guess not,” I chuckle, trying to sound okay with it. Even though his lack of commitment annoys me to no end, I’ve come to expect it and somehow being with her seems to calm me down more than usual.
“Well if it helps, you won’t be the only one moping around alone at home,” she smiles and winks at me across the table. Before I can stop myself, I quietly mumble the idea that just popped into my head.
“Hey,” she glances up from the journal in her hand and waits for me to continue. “Why don’t we do something? You could come over and I could make us dinner or something. If you want-“
“I’d love to!” she interrupts me cheerfully; we both chuckle at her little outburst and our eyes lock on each other for a few extended seconds. “I mean,” she clears her throat overdramatically. “I guess…I’ll have to check my schedule, but I could probably squeeze you in.”
“Oh well good,” I reply sarcastically and we both start to laugh at our playful banter.
It’s never been this easy with anyone I’ve ever met before whether it’s just a friendship or something more. She just seems to get everything about me, from my quirks to my strengths and more than that, she embraces them. I feel safe around her; I know she wouldn’t hurt me or let me down when I need her to be there and that’s more than I can say for the majority of people in my life. It’s strange to think I’ve only known her for about a week and yet I can say all of these things about her.
It’s also strange the way I can’t stop looking at her or thinking about her. Or the way a flurry of excitement always shows up in the pit of my stomach whenever she’s around me. I don’t know what this feeling is or how I’m going to deal with it, but I do know that I’ve never experienced it with anyone. And especially not with a woman.
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The smell of chicken, spices, and vegetables fills my tiny kitchen, enveloping me in a cocoon of culinary bliss. There are two places I feel the most comfortable in-the OR and the kitchen. And thankfully there is no one in need of repair, so instead I find myself gliding around the tiny space, sprinkling herbs and spices here and grilling savory concoctions there. A soft knock breaks my focus and I quickly scurry to the door and open it to find an eager, but nervous looking Arizona holding a bottle of wine.
“I come bearing gifts,” she holds the bottle out further and gives me a cheesy grin.
“Mm the best gift of all,” I joke and step aside for her to come in. She takes in the tiny apartment that George and I share, looking at all of the decorations and pictures.
“Can I take your coat?” I ask politely, feeling her stiffen momentarily when I grab the flaps of her coat from behind her and gently tug on the material. She quickly covers her reaction up and shakes her arms out of the sleeves; I feel my throat constrict when the tips of my fingers lightly graze the soft skin along her bare arms. I quickly hang her coat on the hooks beside the door and take in the sight of her pale, naked arms that seem to glow from the bright blue top she’s wearing. It fits her perfectly, along with the dark skinny jeans that stop when they meet the simple black heels she’s wearing. Suddenly I feel a little underdressed with my jeans and a simple purple v-neck t-shirt.
I glance up from her shoes and see her watching me with a knowing smirk on her lips. I clear my throat awkwardly and turn towards the kitchen.
“So,” she saves me from trying to come up with something to say. “What are you making me?” she hands the bottle of wine over as she struts her way to the kitchen.
“Well I thought I’d let you test my chicken piccata that I keep bragging about,” I allow myself to gloat a little when I notice her eyes widen in delight by the smell coming from my cooking area. She smiles brightly and takes a seat at the kitchen bar as I pour us both some wine. Her fingers barely brush mine when she takes her wine glass from my outstretched hand. I try to hide the shiver that runs through my body and move back to the stove as she immediately starts rambling about how good the wine tastes.
It doesn’t take much longer for me to finish preparing our meal; as soon as everything is set at the table I watch in amusement as pure delight flashes across her face when she takes the first bite.
“Wow,” she groans, her eyes widening for a second before she takes another bite. I watch as her tongue darts out to lick her lips clean. Realizing that I’m now officially blatantly staring, I clear my throat and mumble a gratuitous ‘thank you’ before I start to eat my own food.
“Are you okay?” she asks while I stare at my plate in front of me. She’s giving me a puzzled and concerned expression from the seat next to me and I feel my skin get hotter at the thought of how adorable she looks.
“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just,” I choke out, shaking my head to try and wave away the worry in her eyes. “Just tired, I guess. More wine?”
She nods and I think I see a brief look of recognition flash across her eyes. It’s almost a look of pity and understanding, like she can tell what I’m thinking and feels sorry about it.
“Can I ask you something?” she suddenly interrupts the comfortable silence and leans her elbows on the table.
“Sure,” I lean back in my chair and take a sip of my wine. I can see her hesitating, conflicted about how to word what she’s going to say or if she should even say it at all. “What?” I chuckle, unable to contain my amusement at her shyness.
“People talk. Where we work…they talk. A lot,” I grin as her eyes widen at the truth in her statement. “So I know things about you. Things that you haven’t really told me yet. Because people talk,” she laughs awkwardly and it’s then that I realize where this is going.
“Oh,” I exhale nervously. “You mean?” she nods repeatedly, signaling that she’s referring to the adultery that has plagued my life recently.
“People really like you over there. They respect you and they’re concerned. They really like you,” she assures me comfortingly; I can tell she’s trying to ease my discomfort by trying to explain that they talk because they care. “I just…I wanted to know if what I heard was true…about George? And Izzie Stevens?” she almost whispers the question and it’s then that I see the fear in her eyes over whether or not she may have crossed a line.
“That depends,” I keep a straight face for a few seconds before letting a smile break across my lips. “On what you heard…”
“Well…I heard that you and George got married in Vegas and then…” she pauses and waits for me to encourage her to continue. “…then he had an affair with Izzie.”
“You heard correct,” I assure her; I know she can sense the sadness in my voice as realization hits me that everything she just said really is true. My husband cheated on me with a woman who never even recognized me as worth anybody’s time.
“He sounds like a douche bag,” the sound of her voice breaks the staring contest I’m having with a salt shaker and my eyes shoot up to meet hers. She holds her breath, waiting for me to react; out of nowhere, I start laughing loudly and uncontrollably. She looks a little taken aback at first, but quickly joins me in a fit of laughter. I can’t help but think that I could listen to that sound all day.
“Yeah…he kind of is,” I manage to stammer through my laughter. I wipe away the tears that are waiting to slide down my face from how hard I’m laughing and stand up to grab both of our plates and walk to the kitchen.
“Can I ask you something else?” I don’t have to turn around to know that she followed me into the kitchen; I glance briefly over my shoulder and see her leaning against the kitchen bar behind me, only a few feet away. “Why are you still with him?”
I wasn’t exactly expecting that question. I shrug my shoulders and dry my hands with a nearby towel as I spin around to face her.
“We’re married,” I state simply. “We stood in a church...granted it was a joke of a church…but a church, nonetheless. And we gave each other rings and exchanged promises and vows-“
“Vows that he ruined though,” I can hear the unusual tension plaguing her words. “Sorry, I just…I don’t understand how someone would cheat on anyone, but especially on...”
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and the doctor in me is becoming worried about a possible heart attack. I watch as she takes a few steps forward, using her hands behind her to push herself off of the counter top. Her blue eyes follow my tongue as it darts out to lick my dry lips and I can sense the desire pooling in the deep blue.
“Especially on you,” she whispers the rest of her sentence, now only a few inches away.
She tells me all of this with such conviction like she’s putting everything she has into her words, willing me to believe what she’s saying. I know what’s going to happen next and even though my head is screaming at me to stop it, I can’t. And even if I could, I’m not sure I want to.
I’m leaning against the refrigerator as our mouths part and she breathes out so I can breathe her in. Our noses graze each other intimately and she pauses just before our lips are about to touch. She’s waiting for me to show her that I want this; waiting for me to be the one to go the rest of the distance. I take one more deep breath before eliminating the rest of the space between us and letting my lips just brush across hers; that miniscule touch is all it takes for me to let go completely. I lean in again, this time sucking her top lip in between mine and letting out a tiny moan at the sensations she’s creating in me. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her into me; my sudden urgency seems to get rid of her cautious behavior and she quickly brings her hands to rest on my hips, just touching the skin of my stomach that appears from underneath my shirt.
She pushes her body into mine and runs her tongue along my bottom lip. My hips start to rock subconsciously, needing to feel her as close to me as possible, while I open my mouth to let her tongue run along mine. I love everything about kissing her; the silky smoothness of her tongue against mine, the sweet taste of the strawberry lip gloss she’s wearing, feeling her hands explore my body so delicately, and the intoxicating smell of her perfume and shampoo. She’s so precise tender when she kisses me, like she’s afraid I might break if she pushes to hard. But I want this; I want her. Bad. And I almost feel like a horny teenager when I wrap my other arm around her waist and pull her into me forcefully. She lets out a groan of approval as our bodies collide and pushes me harder against the cold refrigerator door. Our frantic breaths fill the room while my fingers trail underneath her shirt and hungrily scratch the skin along her stomach. I feel like I’m going to explode from all of the desire coursing through my veins right now and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt for anyone in my life. Just as I grip the bottom of her shirt and start tugging it up her body, the sound of a key in the door causes us both to jump apart like we just got struck by lightning.
She spins around and leans against the kitchen bar, watching the doorknob turn, while I turn the water on in the sink and fumble around with some dishes. I wipe my lips with the sleeve of my shirt as George’s voice fills the room.
“Dr. Robbins,” he greets her happily, setting down his bag and taking off his coat.
“Dr. O’Malley, nice to see you again,” she mumbles; I can hear her trying to take deep breaths to calm herself down. When I turn around I’m startled by George’s face right in front of me and his lips against mine before I can even react. It’s a quick peck, forceful and robotic, like it’s just an obligation. It’s the complete opposite from what he almost walked in on. At first I’m worried that he might notice the faint taste of strawberry on me, but he doesn’t. I almost laugh out loud at the thought of him actually caring enough to notice.
“Hey,” he grumbles and takes a plate from the cupboard next to me. The entire time he’s obliviously scooping from the dish of food beside Arizona, my eyes stay locked on hers. We share the most intense, longing, desperate look and I instantly feel my pulse quickening yet again. I can hear George’s sloppy mouth devouring the food in front of him, but it doesn’t break the look I have for her. It feels almost as if there’s no one else in the world other than the two of us, but when George walks in front of me, it breaks my gaze.
She straightens her shirt and takes a few deep breaths, letting her body cool down.
“Well,” she says in her usual cheerful tone. “I think I should be going. It’s getting pretty late,” she gives George a curt smile and walks to the door. I seem to be glued to the spot, leaning against the sink and watching her slide her jacket and purse on her arms. George gives me a questioning look before getting up to help Arizona with her jacket. She mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ before holding the door open and pausing.
“Thanks for dinner, Callie,” she sounds perky, but I can hear the twinge of yearning in her voice that no one else probably could.
“You’re welcome,” I mirror the aching look in her eyes before she walks out the door and George closes it behind her.
“Are you okay?” he asks, sitting down at the table with his food. I don’t respond; I push myself off of the counter and head to the bedroom, unable to stop seeing her blue eyes for the rest of the night.