There Comes a Song 3/? Part One
Alarm clocks, Callie decided, were the work of the devil. They could never be bothered to sound during a nightmare, but, sure as day, the instant one started to enjoy one of those really good dreams, BOOM, it was time to wake up.
Then again, it could have been a small blessing in disguise. Having a wet dream about Erica while she was sleeping on Erica, with Callie being the notorious sleep-talker she was, and Erica being the notoriously light sleeper she was… well, that could have gotten awkward.
Callie leaned across her lover and fumbled with her phone until she managed to shut off the damn chiming, which took some doing. Callie was one of those unfortunate people who needed a good ten minutes to get the gears in their brain turning.
She heaved a sigh and reluctantly sat up and stretched, wincing at the symphony of pops and cracks. From underneath her, Erica laughed.
“So, we both agree that, next time, actually making it to the bed would be worth the effort?”
Callie groaned an affirmative as she scowled in annoyance. It took her ten minutes to get her wits together. It took Erica all of two seconds, if that.
Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair.
“Are you actually awake?” Another laugh.
Callie turned and tried to aim a glare down at the amused blonde, but judging by the beatific smile on her face, Erica wasn’t put off one bit. Callie whined and lay back down, burying her face Erica’s shoulder, only to have her world turn upside down without warning. She landed on her back on the floor with a startled ‘oopmh!’.
Oh hell no. Erica did not just…
Callie sat up as soon as her breathing would allow, and glared at the smugly smirking blond.
“I’m gonna get you for that.”
The smirk widened. “Oh, really? How?”
“By doing… this!” Callie replied, jumping back on the couch and straddling Erica’s thighs, clamping her own legs shut to immobilize the taller woman. Erica’s eyes went wide as she tried to bite back a shriek of laughter, but the talented and dexterous hands playing up and down her ribs were too much for her. She tried to buck and twist away, but Callie had the advantages of leverage and experience. Erica was completely at her mercy, and Callie knew it. She also knew, however, that she would pay dearly later.
‘Later’ proved to be a lot sooner than Callie would have guessed. Erica had managed to stop thrashing long enough to snake a hand between her lover’s thighs. The smirk made its triumphant return as Callie froze and moaned. In an incredible display of upper arm strength, Erica braced her palms against the couch cushion and pushed herself backward so that she was sitting up against the arm of the couch.
When Callie leaned forward to capture Erica’s lips, the blond thumped her soundly between the eyes and gave a (much more impressive) glare of her own.
“Don’t even try it. You’re not getting anything from me.”
“You dumped me on the floor! You had it coming!”
“The punishment did not fit the crime, Torres!”
“There are only so many ways to punish you when we don’t have time for sex.” Callie countered, raising her brow and smirking lecherously. “Unless you don’t mind being late this morning…”
“I’m not on for another two hours, actually. But you are, and you have ten minutes to leave before I decide to withhold sex for the remainder of the week.”
Callie’s smirk fell as quickly as it had come. “Why?” she whined again. “Sex trumps work.”
“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that, and you’re going to go get ready for work. Unless you’re planning on walking around with bed head all day.” Erica pushed herself up from the couch as she spoke. The blonde turned and held out her hands to Callie, who resisted the urge to yank her lover down on top of her, and pulled her to her feet. Callie tightened her grip before Erica could pull away and pulled her closer, entwining their fingers as her lips found her lover’s.
For all of Erica’s earlier protests and threats, Callie did take longer than ten minutes to leave, she was late for work, and Erica most certainly had not withheld sex.
***************
Callie had barely stepped off the elevator onto the surgical floor before Cristina accosted her.
“Callie! You just missed the Chief announcing the arrival of Hell on Earth.”
Callie blinked, both at the unexpectedness and the lack of comprehensible preamble. “Um… what?”
“No surgeries. For a week. We have to go a week without cutting anyone open! That’s HELL.” The shorter woman spat.
“Wait, what? Why?”
“The Chief wants to ren- oh, er, hello…. Chief… sir.” Cristina finished lamely, suddenly finding interest in the tops of her cross trainers.
“Yang, Dr. Torres.” The Chief said by way of greeting. Callie and Cristina grunted softly in unison as he clapped them both on the back exuberantly. “Yang, I’ll trust you to get Torres here up to speed. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office with my mountain of paperwork.” He said, turning and walking off. “ And don’t forget to tell her about the signup sheet!” he called over his shoulder.
He disappeared down the long sterile hallway as quickly as he had come, and something about his excitement left Callie shuddering.
“I’m not going to like what you have to tell me, am I?” she asked resignedly. Cristina shook her head.
“Our wise and benevolent leader has decided that the surgical floor needs renovating. Apparently it doesn’t look nifty enough, or something. It took me a few minutes to wrap my brain around the ‘no surgeries’ part.”
“And the other part that I’m not going to like?” the Latina visibly braced herself, preparing for the worst.
“The Chief thinks that the surgical attendings, residents, and interns need to spend that week bonding, to boost ‘Team Spirit’. I had the leave the room to vomit.” Cristina lip curled, and Callie stepped backwards hastily. Cristina looked like she was about to vomit just thinking about it.
“That… sounds painful. Is it, uh, mandatory?” Please say ‘no’, please say ‘no’.
“Actually, no, but you’re going anyways.”
Callie scoffed, “Ha, what the hell makes you think I’m going?”
“Because McKissAss and McSuckUp signed up without hesitation, and McKissAss is dragging Meredith, Meredith is dragging me, and I’m dragging you. Or else I’m kicking you out of my apartment. What’s it gonna be, Torres? Camping, or apartment hunting?”
It was Cristina’s turn to take a hasty step back, and she decided, and not for the first time, that Callie really, really needed a new best friend. One that wouldn’t teach her how to glare or shoot daggers from her eyes.
“Fine, but you owe me, Yang. I want my flashcards back, for starters.”
“Done!” Cristina injected triumphantly, holding her million-dollar-a-year-destined hand out to shake. The cardiogod-in-training wilted somewhat when Callie shook her head.
“My flashcards aren’t part of the deal. What did I say when I loaned them to you?”
“Uh… that… if… anything happened to them, myself and the longbones of my body would be held personally accountable. And… uh, that you wouldn’t leave enough pieces for even Dr. Bill Bass to identify as human.”
“Good. So, you’ll have my cards back to me by the end of your next shift, or else, and you owe me an enormous favor that I am at liberty to cash any time I damn well please. Mkay?” Callie said, raising a sable brow, all but daring Cristina to argue. Cristina wisely did not rise to the challenge. The two shook hands and turned to go their separate ways when Cristina remembered the original reason for her tracking Callie down.
“Oh! Torres!” she called it, walking backwards away from Callie and the Nurses’ Station.
“What?”
“Dr. Montgomery was looking for you. She said to tell you to page her when you got here.”
Callie had whipped her phone out and dialed Addison’s number before Yang could even finish her message.
“Hey, Callie. I’m up on the breezeway if-“ Click. Callie cut someone off for the second time in at most twenty seconds. The next twenty seconds saw the old friends crashing to the ground together after Addison failed to properly brace herself for Callie’s Flying Hug of Doom. The few who hadn’t looked up at the breezeway at Callie’s dead sprint turned their attention towards the scene as Addison swore shrilly and loudly.
“God DAMN it, Cal, my bones are OFF LIMITS!”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure that whatever you have in your pocket just PUNCTURED MY UTERUS!”
“That WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED if you had any DAMN-MMF!” the rest of Addison’s scathing retort would have to wait for a later, and more private, time. The racket had drawn the Chief out of his office, and he was eying the pair reproachfully. Callie smiled and chuckled nervously, keeping her hand firmly clapped over the redhead’s large and somewhat overused mouth until the Chief, rolling his eyes heavenwards, retreated back into his corner of the surgical world.
Down below, Derek shook his head and went back to his chart open before him on the counter in the lobby, a genuine and amused smile plastered firmly on his face.
“What was that?” Meredith asked beside him. Derek turned his head to look at her and grinned.
“That’s Everlasting Friendship. Now you know what you and Cristina would look like, if either of you was inclined to affection.”
“Oh, well, if I’m not inclined to affection, I guess I’m not inclined to give you sex, either. I’ll put on my flannel nightgown, just for you.” Meredith wrinkled her nose at him and turned towards the lobby stairs, taking them up two at a time.
And just like that, the amused smile was gone.
Damnit.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
After being properly chastised by the Chief, the pair of reunited friends decided to retire to the cafeteria before they could do the hospital or each other any more damage. Food and coffee always provided a wonderful distraction for the both of them, especially as it took them both an equally long time to spoon the desired amount of sugar and stir in the desired amount of French vanilla creamer.
Half an hour later, Cristina walked into the cafeteria and got herself a coffee. She sat down on the other side of Callie and wrapped her burgeoning surgeon hands around it. Callie fancied that she was trying her damndest to pull the heat directly from the scalding hot liquid. She looked like she needed it, too. Her nose and ears were bright red, and her nose was running spectacularly.
“What happened to you?” Callie asked, taking a sip of her own pseudo-cappuccino.
Cristina snorted and slouched back, still cradling her coffee. “Bambi and MiniGrey decided to start a snowball fight out front. I’m so damned bored that I let Meredith drag me into it. I decided to come back inside when my ass went numb.”
“Is anyone still out there?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, tons. Mostly residents and interns, but McDreamy and McSteamy joined in right before I left.”
“Are there teams?”
“It’s sort of Residents vs. Interns, but that didn’t stop Meredith from shoving a handful of snow down Izzie’s scrubs.”
Callie and Addison laughed while Callie wiped up her area before standing. “Well, I’m going to go kick some ass outside. Coming, Addy?”
“I’m wearing a skirt, Torres.”
“I’ve got a spare set of scrubs in my locker, go throw those on.”
“Gah, fine! Brat.” Addison muttered, standing as well. She walked off towards the elevator with a wave and Callie went the other direction, towards the front doors, leaving Cristina to sulk on her own.
***************
Callie regretted not stopping to grab her coat the instant the hydraulic doors hissed open. It was freezing out. If she ever met a meteorologist, she’d screw his thumbs until the bastard screamed or actually told the truth about the weather forecast. Winters in Seattle were supposed to be mild damnit.
Callie was pulled out of her torture-filled daydreaming by the unmistakable whistle of an incoming subzero missile. She barely ducked in time. Unfortunately, the second snowball struck true, and with enough force to knock her off-balance. The third, hitting her square in the chest, sent her sprawling backwards to land smack on her ass.
“Jeeze O’Malley, you’re supposed to give people a three second grace period before you start pelting them!” Mark Sloan called out smoothly, his voice slightly muffled by the foot-thick wall of snow that separated he and Derek from the rest of the world.
“Wait, what?! I-I.. Callie, it wasn’t me! It was-Mmmf!” Georgie couldn’t finish defending himself. After all, it was difficult to speak through a mouthful of snowball. From behind a bench across the walkway, Lexie and Meredith Grey could be heard laughing and high-fiving each other. It was a good and heart-warming sign of how far their relationship had come in the past few months.
Callie stood and brushed the snow from her legs and rear before bending down to begin packing her own first snowball. Seeing this, George spat out the last of the snow and dove behind the bench he and Izzie had claimed as their fort. It even had a small wall on the side closest to the hospital to help protect them from the accurate and deadly fire coming from the Attending’s fort, a purely snow construct that Derek and Mark had worked together to build under the eaves of Seattle Grace Hospital. They had chosen their location well; the hospital was at their back, and to their right was a barren wasteland where all the various teams had stripped the land bare of snow in order to build their respective fortresses.
From behind their exposed bench, Lexie nodded to her half sister and dove from cover. She tried to pull off a military somersault along the ground, but failed miserably. Meredith hopped over her while the other teams took aim, and slipped behind the safety of the most impressive fortress of all. The walls were easily five feet high and a foot thick, and it was wide enough to easily house five or six people comfortably. One, Two, and Four-as they were called by Cristina-laid down some cover fire so that Lexie could scramble to safety.
It was then that George decided to finally ‘man up’, and he stood, fearlessly, disregarding the intern who had missile lock on him to target Lexie’s frantically retreating backside. He drew back his arm for the throw, but his shot went wide when another snowball struck him from a completely unexpected direction.
“Huston, this is Ghost Rider reporting a negative impact. I repeat, a negative impact.” Derek mimed speaking into a radio. A cacophony of disembodied and distorted voices joined the neurosurgeon’s in laughter.
Sometimes knowing people were there and not being able to see them was really, really creepy, Callie decided, especially given how overcast the day was. The effect was downright eerie.
George growled and bent down to pick up another snowball from the pile Izzy had her interns hard at work producing. “I’ll give you negative impact.” George muttered, mostly to himself. He straightened again and took aim, but Derek’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Are you threatening your boss, Dr. O’Malley?”
“I… uh… yes, sir, I am!”
“Good for you, George! Fight the power!” Meredith called out her encouragement.
Emboldened, George sent the snowball flying, grunting with the effort he put into the throw. Derek had more than enough time to duck, though, and it exploded harmlessly against the brick wall.
Callie stepped bravely forward into at least four lines of fire, tossed a snowball from hand to hand nonchalantly, and asked, “Who wants me on their team?!”
A multitude of voices called out their claims, but they were all overpowered by Mark’s when he shouted, “Torres, get your ass over here!”
The Latina grinned and darted to the left, ducking for cover behind Attending Bastion with Shepherd and Sloan. The latter held up his hand and high-fived her, grinning broadly in that boyishly charming Sloan way, “Welcome to the Dark Side.”
Callie snorted, “What?”
“The Dark Side.” Mark repeated. Derek interrupted before he could launch into an explanation.
“I still don’t see how that’s an appropriate name for a snow fort…”
“We’ve been over this before. It-“
“Alright, alright, alright! We’ve got more important things to talk about. Like our game plan.” Callie stepped between the two attendings, both literally and figuratively. “If we’re going to kick some serious snowy ass, we’re going to need a game plan.”
“Uh… throw lots of snowballs, don’t get hit, and defend the base?”
Sloan scoffed. “Oh, come on Derek. A good offense is the best defense.”
“I beg to differ.” Derek countered, offering his own patented McDreamy smirk.
“I beg to differ with your begging to differ. Mark and I should mount an attack and take over Stevens’ fort; it’s in a better offensive position, and it’ll have the Dark Side protecting its left flank.” Callie drew a small but detailed sketch of the battle plans in the snow between the three of them.
“So, you’re going to leave me the sole defender? Now I’m worried.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Mark clapped him on the shoulder, “Callie and I have your back.”
“No, you have my flank! Which… sounds really wrong when you say it like that.” Derek scowled at the wall, as if it had somehow planted the double entendre into his mind.
“So, this would be a bad time to ask you to ‘cover us’?” Mark sniggered, hefting a massive snowball. Callie only rolled her eyes as she packed herself a pair of snowballs, one to wield in each hand. And… one for each target. She didn’t actively harbor either Stevens or O’Malley any ill will, but it would be enjoyable all the same. She crouched in a ready position and waited for Mark’s signal, which he gave soon after. Together, they sprinted the twenty feet to the target base, Mark yelling his fool head off, and Callie giving her best approximation of the Xena: Warrior Princess battle cry.
Her best approximation was pretty damn good. It scattered Izzie’s interns before the attackers even got there, leaving George and Izzie trapped and prone to attack. The air was soon filled with a chorus of yelps and cries for mercy, and then loud, genuine laughter as Callie and Mark high-fived each other for the second time that battle. George and Izzie had no choice but to sprint down the walkway and dive behind the farthest fort, which technically belonged to Sydney Heron and her interns. The group had only left one sentry, though, and she was easily overtaken. The other teams took pity on the poor girl as she ran inside, presumably to inform her Captain that Fort Fantasia had been lost, and decided not to open fire.
The intern was so focused on getting safely inside the hospital doors that she narrowly avoided barreling into the three people heading out. Two of them were welcome additions, but the third was so unexpected that everyone--everyone-stopped and did a double take. Standing between Olivia and Alex… was Baliey.
The Nazi’s eyes widened as she looked around, as if daring someone to say anything about her being there.
“Well, are y’all going to tell us what teams we’re on?”
“We’ve got Alex!” Meredith yelled, poking her head up above the wall bravely for a second time. Karev smirked and jogged down the walkway to join his new team. Pierce, one of Alex’s interns, poked his own head up and waved Olivia over, leaving Bailey standing alone in the doorway. A look of hurt or irritation flashed across her face, but it disappeared at Derek “Psst!”. She gave him a small smile as she squatted next to him, and he returned it in full.
“It is an honor to fight at your side, Oboe.”
Miranda snorted, but her smile grew nonetheless, “Same goes for you, Saxaphone.”
***************
Erica growled quietly in frustration as she tried to multitask; walking through the parking lot towards the hospital while she practically had her head and left arm submerged in her purse, digging around for her damned pager. Slipping on a patch of black ice should have given Erica all the hint she needed that purse-diving should wait for a safer locale. It should have been, but it wasn’t, which was really a shame and fortunate all at once. It was a shame because she never saw the vengeful Bailey taking aim as she approached, completely oblivious to the cluster of snow forts and gaggle of coworkers hiding therein, but it was fortunate in that the incoming snowball struck the top of her head, instead of her face as it could have done.
Either way, Erica Hahn was stupefied.
It had been years since the last time anyone had dared pelt her.
From behind the safety of Alcatraz’ sturdy walls, Callie had both her hands clapped over her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle her laughter. Erica’s expression was just priceless; her eyes were wide, her mouth slack, and she positively radiated disbelief from every pore.
Mark had made no such attempts to stifle his guffaws, it was his raucous laughter that snapped Erica back into reality. A strange, twisted reality, because unless she was mistaken, her grown-up colleagues were crouching behind mounds of snow and staring at her, rosy-cheeked and open-mouthed, every last one. Several looked like they were braced for Armageddon itself as they awaited the Wrath of Hahn. The others mostly looked scared.
All but one. Miranda Bailey stared back in challenge, cocking her eyebrow daringly. Blue eyes narrowed threatening, but the Nazi did not stand down. Her back was straight and her head was held high and proud.
Erica’s free hand went to her hair and she scratched the top of her head vigorously in an attempt to clear the snow. Hahn’s further lack of acknowledgment irritated the Chief Resident, causing her to suck her teeth and contemplate sending another snowball the Attending’s way.
Had Miranda bent down to retrieve more snow a second earlier, she would have missed the slight shrug of Hahn’s shoulders and the flash of a small wry smile. She smiled and nodded back, both recognizing and accepting Hahn’s apology.
Had Erica not been watching Bailey’s response, she would have noticed the streak of navy blue circling around behind her. Mark Sloan was many things, but his ‘daring’ trait had long ago beaten ‘cautious’ bloody and senseless before throwing it off the Sloan Personality List.
Erica felt something pull back on the elastic of her black slacks, and turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the delighted and impish grin on Mark’s face before a double handful of something very cold was shoved unceremoniously down her pants. Erica quite literally froze in place and gasped sharply as the severe coldness seemed to burn her arse and the back of her thighs. The entire congregation of Snow Warriors could only gape and wait for the eruption of Mt. St. Hahn.
They weren’t disappointed.
For reasons unbeknownst to Erica, that morning she had chosen a somewhat stylish pair of snow boots over her normal pair of black patent leather. It was fortunate that she had, though, because the rubber soles gave her the traction necessary to lunge after Mark as she screeched his name in almighty fury. Mark’s laughter died instantly and a wide-eyed, fearful expression came over his face as the realization of his immanent doom washed over him. The resulting adrenaline rush propelled him forward into the hospital, running for all he was worth, with Erica hot on his heels.
They left in their wake a stunned silence. Neither attending nor resident nor mere intern could quite believe what they just witnessed. The dark cloud lifted quickly, though. Derek was the first to crack. His hoots of laughter were quickly joined by a chorus of snorts, cackles, giggles, and guffaws as the surgical staff of Seattle Grace fell to the ground, slumped helpless against snow fort walls, and leaned against each other for support as they tried desperately to catch their breath.
Derek lay on his back in the snow, wheezing as he stared up at the ceiling of the overhang. He had almost managed to subdue his mirth, but a new thought crossed his slightly bizarre scientist mind.
“Oh my god. You could hear the Doppler Effect of his swearing as he ran by!”