Fic: Well Maybe What You Want is Right Here 10/?
Title: Well Maybe What You Want is Right Here 10/?
Pairing: Arizona/Callie
Rating: M
Summary: Sometimes we don't realize what we want until we just know. And sometimes we realize that certain things are worth fighting for. Starts a day or two after the scene in 11x08. Timeline may not be perfectly canon.
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.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
"I can't reach the last band."
I watch the monitor in frustration, my surgical instrument deep inside this woman's uterus, moving millimetre by millimetre. We're three hours in and so far it's been extremely successful -- except for this last damn amniotic band.
"Be gentle, Robbins," Herman leans in closer, watching the monitor herself, "you should be able to get it. Just move slowly."
"I am moving slowly. It won't reach."
I attempt it again, ever so slowly easing the instrument deeper to try and manoeuvre around the baby's minuscule foot.
"The baby keeps moving."
Not being helpful whatsoever, Herman leans back out of my way without offering any more guidance. I know she's doing it on purpose -- she has been, more and more. Letting me perform entire surgeries on my own while she only stands by and watches. I know she's forcing me to learn, and I am grateful that she is, but I'm positive part of her just likes to see me squirm, too.
"We'd have a bigger problem if he wasn't."
Twenty minutes later I pull the instrument back with a triumphant grin.
I got it.
*
I watch through the window as the nurses finish up with our patient, getting ready to transfer her back to her recovery room. The high of a successful surgery is like no other -- and the accompanying relief after each of these new fetal surgeries is a pretty fantastic feeling too, I can't deny it. With each one we do, I become a little more confident, and I know it's affecting more than just my professional skills.
I scrub my hands and forearms under the stream of water, my mentor performing the same action by my side.
"Callie asked me to move back into the house."
I don't know why I'm telling her this, but it just kind of pops out. I mean, we're friends of some kind, sure, but hardly in the warm and fuzzy personal way.
"I told you it was a good idea to go home last night."
I shake my head a little, carefully rinsing off the harsh soap.
"I don't know if it's a good idea. It's rushing things, isn't it? It feels like it's rushing things."
Herman steps off the foot pedal on the floor and the water shuts off on her side of the long sink. She grabs a towel from the shelf and dries off as I follow suit, but doesn't say anything in reply.
"I don't want to move back in if this isn't going to work out."
She remains silent, but I can see her watching me out of the corner of my eye with a slight smile on her face, and I growl slightly in frustration.
"I'm glad you think this is so amusing."
"Robbins," she steps in front of me, finally speaking up, "do you want this to work?"
I give her an incredulous look, resting my hands on my hips. What kind of question is that?
"Of course I want it to work between us."
"Then move into the house."
She shrugs a shoulder, opening the scrub room door and heading into the hall. I look after her in disbelief, quickly following to catch up with the taller woman as she heads down toward the lounge.
"Just like that. Well gee, if only I'd known it was that simple."
"It is that simple."
She pushes open the door to our lounge and I follow her inside, untying my scrub cap with a sigh. When the door closes behind me, she turns to face me, any traces of amusement gone from her face.
"Listen. You love her -- that much is clear. So while I'm certainly not pretending to be any expert on the subject, it seems pretty simple. Move into the house, take a leap, and do your damndest to make it work. I don't see you backing down from any of these surgeries I'm throwing at you," she jabs a finger toward the bulletin board.
I glance at the cards on the board, thinking of all the seemingly impossible situations she's thrown me into. She does have a point, even if everything between me and Callie seems a little unbelievable right now, something is happening. Maybe I shouldn't be afraid of it.
"You just do it, Robbins. Because one day you might wake up with a giant, inoperable tumour, and yadda yadda regrets and all that nonsense."
I look back, meeting her eyes, unable to read the expressions that flits across them.
"Nicole..."
She pulls off her own scrub cap, shoving it in her pocket and moving over to the coffee pot in the corner.
"All I'm saying is, take a few risks. It might go to hell in a handbasket, in which case you can come back and live in the lounge with me. And drink. But it might turn out to be exactly what you need, too."
*
It's hours later before I get another moment to myself, and when my last surgery of the day is finished I slide down onto a couch in the attendings' lounge, rubbing a hand over my tired eyes.
I've been thinking about breakfast and our talk all day. I can't stop thinking about it -- about the idea of living with Callie again, cohabiting the same space, waking up in our house again. I want it, I can't lie to myself and say that I don't. But I also know what will happen if we're in constant close proximity to each other...there's only so long before the physical attraction will overtake any rational thought. It's already been hard enough to keep my hands off her on our dates.
And I don't know if that's a good idea yet.
I register the sound of the door opening but don't look up, instead just leaning my head back onto the couch with a sigh. I only told her I would think about it; I never said how long I would take to think.
"Herman blues?"
Amelia's familiar voice fills the air, and I feel the couch dip next to me as she suddenly drops into it.
"Callie blues."
"Ooh...what happened? I thought things were going well."
I open my eyes and turn my head so I can see her. She's dressed in her street clothes, obviously ready to head out for the night. I'm kind of glad she stopped in though.
"They are. She asked me to move back into the house."
"Oh...well shit."
She pauses then, brow furrowing as she looks at me.
"Wait, but isn't that what you want?"
I sigh in frustration, sitting up and leaning my elbows on my knees.
"Of course it's what I want! But doesn't it seem rushed? What if it's too soon? What if we can't handle being together that much?"
The neurosurgeon is silent for a minute, but she nudges her shoulder against mine lightly.
"Calm down, miss fear-of-commitment. I figured you'd gotten over that since you were, you know, married for three years. You're never going to know if you don't try. If you guys are going to be together again, eventually you're going to take this step."
"Eventually, maybe. But two months ago she was barely even speaking to me, Amy," I answer quietly, rubbing the back of my neck, "She wanted nothing to do with me."
I feel her hand slide under my own, and strong fingers knead my muscles a little as I let my arm drop away. A sigh escapes me, a plethora of thoughts swirling through my mind. I wish this could just be easy.
"Yeah, but now she's practically wooing you. I think it's safe to say that things are different," Amelia speaks again, her thumb finding and rubbing into a tight knot under my skin.
My phone chimes with a text, and I reach over, pulling it out of my discarded lap coat.
"Ten bucks says it's her."
I swipe it open and....sure enough, it's from Callie. I read it and smile a little, and Amelia gives me a told-you-so grin.
"She wants to know if I want to come over tonight. To watch the Great British Bake-Off."
The other woman laughs, picking up her jacket and pushing herself up from the couch.
"I can't believe you still watch those cooking shows. You can't bake!"
"I live vicariously through them!"
"Then go -- live vicariously through three-layer cakes. And think about the house thing, really, Arizona. I get why you're worried, I do, but sometimes you just have to do what feels right. That's what Tim would say, right?"
I glance up, surprised she remembers that, and feel a small smile tug at my lips as I repeat words I haven't heard in years.
"Not everything is about science, USS. Listen to your gut."
Amelia smiles back, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she backs away.
"Listen to your gut."
*
I make a decision and quickly return Callie’s text, then head to the locker room to get changed. Actually managing to make it out of the hospital without being stopped by anyone, I end up making it to the house with a perfect fifteen minutes to spare. I text her again as I make my way up to the front door because I know Sofia’s probably just gone down for the night, and the last thing I want to do is wake her with the doorbell.
The door swings open just as I approach and I’m greeted with a warm smile from Callie, who’s casually dressed in yoga pants and one of her loose tank tops, her hair pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, makeup scrubbed off for the night. I just look at her for a moment, taken aback at how amazingly gorgeous she is.
“Hey! You’re just in time, come in.”
She beckons me in, and I leave my shoes and bag at the door and follow her down toward the living room.
“Are you hungry? I figured you probably hadn’t eaten yet, so I got some Thai food. It just got delivered.”
My stomach rumbles a little as the scent of said food reaches my nose, and I laugh a little sheepishly.
“I’m starved. That sounds amazing.”
“Sofia and I made cupcakes too. She just fell asleep though. I couldn't tell her you were coming over or she never would have gone down.”
A piece of hair falls into her face, and instinctively I reach up and curl it behind her ear, brushing my thumb lightly against her cheek.
“Cupcakes sound amazing. I’ll start with one of those.”
I smile when her skin flushes a little at the intimate touch, and can’t help the next words to come tumbling out of my mouth.
“You look really pretty tonight.”
Her laugh sounds quietly in the empty space of the hallway.
“Hardly.”
I just look at her, seeing her unsure, almost shy brown eyes gaze back at me. She is beautiful. She's breathtaking. How can she not know that?
“You do,” I repeat softly, “You look beautiful.”
She gives me a small smile this time, her eyes darkening a bit.
“I really want to kiss you right now.”
Still riding the high of my last surgery, I find myself feeling overconfident and suddenly bold. Stepping closer, I tuck that same fallen bit of hair behind her ear again, and I graze my fingers along her jaw as I respond.
“Then kiss me.”
In what feels like a split second she slides her arms around my waist and pulls me in against her body, stealing my breath away as her warm lips meet mine. She kisses me softly at first, but I raise a hand to slide across her bare shoulder and it seems to ignite something in the brunette, because then her hands are grasping at the back of my shirt, and she’s kissing me more insistently as she backs me against the wall. Her tongue traces along my bottom lip and I don’t hesitate, a soft moan escaping my throat as the kiss becomes deeper, more heated, her mouth moving over mine in a way that is both immeasurably tender and completely possessive. I feel her arm slide up between my back and the wall and she grasps a handful of my hair, tilting my head to better grant her access, and the taste and feel of her is all consuming as my heart beats an almost painful rhythm in my chest.
I’m aware of nothing but her until she pulls back a few moments later, leaning her forehead on mine as she catches her breath. I open my eyes and immediately steal another kiss, capturing her beautiful lips beneath mine like they’re the very essence I need to survive.
In a way, they are.
Kissing her is like coming up for a breath of fresh air. It’s like the first ray of sunshine after a long, cold winter. I've learned I can live without her -- if forced, I can live without her, without needing her. The point is...I don't want to.
“Arizona...”
She murmurs my name on a sigh, nosing the curve of my jaw and placing a soft kiss just behind my ear. I shiver involuntarily at the touch and she smiles.
"I've missed this spot. Right. Here."
Punctuating her words with light kisses, the woman is clearly trying to kill me. She knows. She knows what that spot does to me. And if she continues kissing me like this it's going to take all my willpower not to strip her clothes off right here.
"Calliope..." I laugh softly, sliding my hands to her shoulders to push her back a little, as much as I really don't want to.
She acquiesces, but an adorable almost-pout graces her features as she lets her eyes wander over me. I just grin at her, pecking her lips quickly one last time.
"I still want my cupcake. And we're going to miss the start of the show."
"Mm," she blinks, her eyes shifting up, "food, right. You go get comfy, I'll be right there."
At that, the brunette pulls back abruptly and heads down to the kitchen, and I make my way into the living room and settle into the couch with a content sigh, still relishing the taste of the other woman on my lips. I grab the remote and switch the TV onto the Food Network, happily seeing the banner along the bottom that proclaims a marathon of episodes tonight.
"Callie! There's a marathon on tonight!"
Callie comes around the couch and hands me a cupcake, carefully setting down the takeout bag, bottle of wine, and glasses she has precariously held with the other arm before she drops onto the couch.
"I know," she grins, "you're mine for the night, Robbins."
"Devious."
I swipe my finger through the frosting on the cupcake and taste the sugary goodness, unwrapping the paper to take a bite.
"I know. But hey, I gotta keep thinking of ways to convince you to spend time with me."
I curl my good leg under me as the show begins, settling back comfortably so our shoulders are touching.
"You don't have to convince me."
*
"Oh my god look at that cheesecake. Caramel? Oh, that is entirely unfair. She may be annoying but I'll take her cake."
Callie makes a face at the screen, setting her wine glass down on the table in front of us.
"She's more than annoying."
She mimics the contestant's whiny voice and I laugh, shushing her.
"But seriously, I want her cake."
"Nah, you don't want her cake. You're not into redheads so much."
I turn and gape at her, smacking her arm. She so did not.
"Calliope!"
Eyes gleaming like a mischievous child, she bursts out laughing at my scandalised look.
"Well! It's true."
I shake my head, laughing as a commercial break comes on. We're almost done our second episode and our commentary tonight has been golden. It feels like the early days of our relationship again.
Setting my glass down beside hers I settle back, silence falling over us as a commercial for some other show flashes across the screen.
"Did you have anyone else's cake? ...while...we were apart?"
I glance over quickly as I voice the question, hoping it's not going to ruin the fun we've been having. I'm just curious...I often wondered over the last five months, despite never seeing her with anyone else, and I just need to know.
“I'm sorry, that is really none of my business. I didn't...just,” I falter a bit, deflating, “just so you know.”
She leans back a little, pulling the fleece throw over our laps more and fiddling with it, stalling for a few seconds before she answers.
"Just once."
I nod, watching her until she looks up.
"I just wondered."
"Yeah, I just met her at Joe's. We danced a lot and drank a lot and," she shrugs a shoulder, "it just ended up being the one night."
Curiosity getting the best of me now - a little jealously too, admittedly, I have to ask more.
"How come?"
I hold my hand over palm up and she takes it, curling our fingers together. The show comes back on and she diverts her eyes back to the television.
"She just...she wasn't you."
I squeeze her hand and shift a bit on the couch, leaning in to rest my head on her shoulder. We just watch the show for a few minutes quietly, and then she pulls her hand from mine and slips her arm in behind me, wrapping it around my shoulders.
The move is familiar, and comforting as I settle against her a little more intimately. I can smell the faint traces of her body wash and the lingering perfume on her skin, and I simply let out a content sigh.
"Oh," I point at the television after a moment, "look at this guy though. That guy has no idea what he's doing."
"Right? And he's trying way too hard with that hipster look. Who wears a scarf to bake?"
"Even I could beat this guy."
Callie's fingers pause their idle movements along my arm, and she looks down with a perfectly raised eyebrow and a grin. Our relaxed mood is back, and she has an almost teasing tone to her voice as she replies.
"Let's not be crazy here."
*
Two hours later it's nearing midnight and we're rounding off the fourth episode of our favourite show. I remember years ago when we'd discovered our shared love of cooking competitions -- Callie because she actually likes to cook, and is good at it, and me mostly because I just love food and love pretending I'll ever learn how to make these creations. It had been our go-to pastime from then on whenever we just wanted a night in to relax and to spend some time together. And our running commentaries made it all the more ridiculous and entertaining.
It had helped bring us back together after every argument and break-up, I realize now -- and after my amputation, after the trauma of the crash, it had given us something to share to start the process of returning our lives to normal.
Callie's head is now resting in my lap, her body curled up along the length of the couch as she watches the show. I can never keep my hands out of her hair, so it's loose now from its bun and my fingers are sliding through it delicately, enjoying the feel of silky strands as they fall between my fingers.
"I say sequin shirt lady is going to win."
I study the contestant on screen, my fingers pausing their motion for a moment.
"Agreed. She was leap years ahead of Mr. Macho Tight Pants, and well, I mean let's face it...poodle lady majorly failed the last round."
Callie grins and rolls onto her back to look up at me, dark hair splaying across my lap as my fingers caress her scalp again.
"I hope this never changes. I hope we never change -- that no matter what, we're wrinkly old ladies someday still giving a sassy commentary to our favourite cooking shows. Sofia will roll her eyes at us so hard."
I grin down at her, laughing softly.
"We will be. The Great British Bake-Off has been the one constant in our lives."
"Not the only constant," she replies immediately, a trace of seriousness entering her voice.
I gently run my finger down the line of her jaw, tracing it, committing it to memory for the millionth time.
"You're right," I respond softly, "not the only one."
Dark brown eyes watch me closely, as if searching for something, and I'm drawn into their impossible depths with one glance to meet her gaze. I remember our conversation from weeks ago, sitting on my bed as we laid everything out in the open. The things she'd said had stayed with me.
"The other one is the love. I have always, and will always love you, Calliope Iphegenia Torres."
Something changes then in her eyes, and she stills my hand by reaching up and taking it in hers.
"You do."
It's not a question, like the first time I spoke the words years ago, but a statement that falls quietly from her lips. And I think I realize in that moment what she meant -- that she knows, she'll always know, but hearing me say it out loud is what she really needs. I think it might be what both of us need.
"And I love you too."
I tighten my fingers around hers, watching them fit together, and when I look back to see her still watching me, I suddenly make a decision.
"I want to move in."
Pairing: Arizona/Callie
Rating: M
Summary: Sometimes we don't realize what we want until we just know. And sometimes we realize that certain things are worth fighting for. Starts a day or two after the scene in 11x08. Timeline may not be perfectly canon.
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.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
"I can't reach the last band."
I watch the monitor in frustration, my surgical instrument deep inside this woman's uterus, moving millimetre by millimetre. We're three hours in and so far it's been extremely successful -- except for this last damn amniotic band.
"Be gentle, Robbins," Herman leans in closer, watching the monitor herself, "you should be able to get it. Just move slowly."
"I am moving slowly. It won't reach."
I attempt it again, ever so slowly easing the instrument deeper to try and manoeuvre around the baby's minuscule foot.
"The baby keeps moving."
Not being helpful whatsoever, Herman leans back out of my way without offering any more guidance. I know she's doing it on purpose -- she has been, more and more. Letting me perform entire surgeries on my own while she only stands by and watches. I know she's forcing me to learn, and I am grateful that she is, but I'm positive part of her just likes to see me squirm, too.
"We'd have a bigger problem if he wasn't."
Twenty minutes later I pull the instrument back with a triumphant grin.
I got it.
*
I watch through the window as the nurses finish up with our patient, getting ready to transfer her back to her recovery room. The high of a successful surgery is like no other -- and the accompanying relief after each of these new fetal surgeries is a pretty fantastic feeling too, I can't deny it. With each one we do, I become a little more confident, and I know it's affecting more than just my professional skills.
I scrub my hands and forearms under the stream of water, my mentor performing the same action by my side.
"Callie asked me to move back into the house."
I don't know why I'm telling her this, but it just kind of pops out. I mean, we're friends of some kind, sure, but hardly in the warm and fuzzy personal way.
"I told you it was a good idea to go home last night."
I shake my head a little, carefully rinsing off the harsh soap.
"I don't know if it's a good idea. It's rushing things, isn't it? It feels like it's rushing things."
Herman steps off the foot pedal on the floor and the water shuts off on her side of the long sink. She grabs a towel from the shelf and dries off as I follow suit, but doesn't say anything in reply.
"I don't want to move back in if this isn't going to work out."
She remains silent, but I can see her watching me out of the corner of my eye with a slight smile on her face, and I growl slightly in frustration.
"I'm glad you think this is so amusing."
"Robbins," she steps in front of me, finally speaking up, "do you want this to work?"
I give her an incredulous look, resting my hands on my hips. What kind of question is that?
"Of course I want it to work between us."
"Then move into the house."
She shrugs a shoulder, opening the scrub room door and heading into the hall. I look after her in disbelief, quickly following to catch up with the taller woman as she heads down toward the lounge.
"Just like that. Well gee, if only I'd known it was that simple."
"It is that simple."
She pushes open the door to our lounge and I follow her inside, untying my scrub cap with a sigh. When the door closes behind me, she turns to face me, any traces of amusement gone from her face.
"Listen. You love her -- that much is clear. So while I'm certainly not pretending to be any expert on the subject, it seems pretty simple. Move into the house, take a leap, and do your damndest to make it work. I don't see you backing down from any of these surgeries I'm throwing at you," she jabs a finger toward the bulletin board.
I glance at the cards on the board, thinking of all the seemingly impossible situations she's thrown me into. She does have a point, even if everything between me and Callie seems a little unbelievable right now, something is happening. Maybe I shouldn't be afraid of it.
"You just do it, Robbins. Because one day you might wake up with a giant, inoperable tumour, and yadda yadda regrets and all that nonsense."
I look back, meeting her eyes, unable to read the expressions that flits across them.
"Nicole..."
She pulls off her own scrub cap, shoving it in her pocket and moving over to the coffee pot in the corner.
"All I'm saying is, take a few risks. It might go to hell in a handbasket, in which case you can come back and live in the lounge with me. And drink. But it might turn out to be exactly what you need, too."
*
It's hours later before I get another moment to myself, and when my last surgery of the day is finished I slide down onto a couch in the attendings' lounge, rubbing a hand over my tired eyes.
I've been thinking about breakfast and our talk all day. I can't stop thinking about it -- about the idea of living with Callie again, cohabiting the same space, waking up in our house again. I want it, I can't lie to myself and say that I don't. But I also know what will happen if we're in constant close proximity to each other...there's only so long before the physical attraction will overtake any rational thought. It's already been hard enough to keep my hands off her on our dates.
And I don't know if that's a good idea yet.
I register the sound of the door opening but don't look up, instead just leaning my head back onto the couch with a sigh. I only told her I would think about it; I never said how long I would take to think.
"Herman blues?"
Amelia's familiar voice fills the air, and I feel the couch dip next to me as she suddenly drops into it.
"Callie blues."
"Ooh...what happened? I thought things were going well."
I open my eyes and turn my head so I can see her. She's dressed in her street clothes, obviously ready to head out for the night. I'm kind of glad she stopped in though.
"They are. She asked me to move back into the house."
"Oh...well shit."
She pauses then, brow furrowing as she looks at me.
"Wait, but isn't that what you want?"
I sigh in frustration, sitting up and leaning my elbows on my knees.
"Of course it's what I want! But doesn't it seem rushed? What if it's too soon? What if we can't handle being together that much?"
The neurosurgeon is silent for a minute, but she nudges her shoulder against mine lightly.
"Calm down, miss fear-of-commitment. I figured you'd gotten over that since you were, you know, married for three years. You're never going to know if you don't try. If you guys are going to be together again, eventually you're going to take this step."
"Eventually, maybe. But two months ago she was barely even speaking to me, Amy," I answer quietly, rubbing the back of my neck, "She wanted nothing to do with me."
I feel her hand slide under my own, and strong fingers knead my muscles a little as I let my arm drop away. A sigh escapes me, a plethora of thoughts swirling through my mind. I wish this could just be easy.
"Yeah, but now she's practically wooing you. I think it's safe to say that things are different," Amelia speaks again, her thumb finding and rubbing into a tight knot under my skin.
My phone chimes with a text, and I reach over, pulling it out of my discarded lap coat.
"Ten bucks says it's her."
I swipe it open and....sure enough, it's from Callie. I read it and smile a little, and Amelia gives me a told-you-so grin.
"She wants to know if I want to come over tonight. To watch the Great British Bake-Off."
The other woman laughs, picking up her jacket and pushing herself up from the couch.
"I can't believe you still watch those cooking shows. You can't bake!"
"I live vicariously through them!"
"Then go -- live vicariously through three-layer cakes. And think about the house thing, really, Arizona. I get why you're worried, I do, but sometimes you just have to do what feels right. That's what Tim would say, right?"
I glance up, surprised she remembers that, and feel a small smile tug at my lips as I repeat words I haven't heard in years.
"Not everything is about science, USS. Listen to your gut."
Amelia smiles back, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she backs away.
"Listen to your gut."
*
I make a decision and quickly return Callie’s text, then head to the locker room to get changed. Actually managing to make it out of the hospital without being stopped by anyone, I end up making it to the house with a perfect fifteen minutes to spare. I text her again as I make my way up to the front door because I know Sofia’s probably just gone down for the night, and the last thing I want to do is wake her with the doorbell.
The door swings open just as I approach and I’m greeted with a warm smile from Callie, who’s casually dressed in yoga pants and one of her loose tank tops, her hair pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, makeup scrubbed off for the night. I just look at her for a moment, taken aback at how amazingly gorgeous she is.
“Hey! You’re just in time, come in.”
She beckons me in, and I leave my shoes and bag at the door and follow her down toward the living room.
“Are you hungry? I figured you probably hadn’t eaten yet, so I got some Thai food. It just got delivered.”
My stomach rumbles a little as the scent of said food reaches my nose, and I laugh a little sheepishly.
“I’m starved. That sounds amazing.”
“Sofia and I made cupcakes too. She just fell asleep though. I couldn't tell her you were coming over or she never would have gone down.”
A piece of hair falls into her face, and instinctively I reach up and curl it behind her ear, brushing my thumb lightly against her cheek.
“Cupcakes sound amazing. I’ll start with one of those.”
I smile when her skin flushes a little at the intimate touch, and can’t help the next words to come tumbling out of my mouth.
“You look really pretty tonight.”
Her laugh sounds quietly in the empty space of the hallway.
“Hardly.”
I just look at her, seeing her unsure, almost shy brown eyes gaze back at me. She is beautiful. She's breathtaking. How can she not know that?
“You do,” I repeat softly, “You look beautiful.”
She gives me a small smile this time, her eyes darkening a bit.
“I really want to kiss you right now.”
Still riding the high of my last surgery, I find myself feeling overconfident and suddenly bold. Stepping closer, I tuck that same fallen bit of hair behind her ear again, and I graze my fingers along her jaw as I respond.
“Then kiss me.”
In what feels like a split second she slides her arms around my waist and pulls me in against her body, stealing my breath away as her warm lips meet mine. She kisses me softly at first, but I raise a hand to slide across her bare shoulder and it seems to ignite something in the brunette, because then her hands are grasping at the back of my shirt, and she’s kissing me more insistently as she backs me against the wall. Her tongue traces along my bottom lip and I don’t hesitate, a soft moan escaping my throat as the kiss becomes deeper, more heated, her mouth moving over mine in a way that is both immeasurably tender and completely possessive. I feel her arm slide up between my back and the wall and she grasps a handful of my hair, tilting my head to better grant her access, and the taste and feel of her is all consuming as my heart beats an almost painful rhythm in my chest.
I’m aware of nothing but her until she pulls back a few moments later, leaning her forehead on mine as she catches her breath. I open my eyes and immediately steal another kiss, capturing her beautiful lips beneath mine like they’re the very essence I need to survive.
In a way, they are.
Kissing her is like coming up for a breath of fresh air. It’s like the first ray of sunshine after a long, cold winter. I've learned I can live without her -- if forced, I can live without her, without needing her. The point is...I don't want to.
“Arizona...”
She murmurs my name on a sigh, nosing the curve of my jaw and placing a soft kiss just behind my ear. I shiver involuntarily at the touch and she smiles.
"I've missed this spot. Right. Here."
Punctuating her words with light kisses, the woman is clearly trying to kill me. She knows. She knows what that spot does to me. And if she continues kissing me like this it's going to take all my willpower not to strip her clothes off right here.
"Calliope..." I laugh softly, sliding my hands to her shoulders to push her back a little, as much as I really don't want to.
She acquiesces, but an adorable almost-pout graces her features as she lets her eyes wander over me. I just grin at her, pecking her lips quickly one last time.
"I still want my cupcake. And we're going to miss the start of the show."
"Mm," she blinks, her eyes shifting up, "food, right. You go get comfy, I'll be right there."
At that, the brunette pulls back abruptly and heads down to the kitchen, and I make my way into the living room and settle into the couch with a content sigh, still relishing the taste of the other woman on my lips. I grab the remote and switch the TV onto the Food Network, happily seeing the banner along the bottom that proclaims a marathon of episodes tonight.
"Callie! There's a marathon on tonight!"
Callie comes around the couch and hands me a cupcake, carefully setting down the takeout bag, bottle of wine, and glasses she has precariously held with the other arm before she drops onto the couch.
"I know," she grins, "you're mine for the night, Robbins."
"Devious."
I swipe my finger through the frosting on the cupcake and taste the sugary goodness, unwrapping the paper to take a bite.
"I know. But hey, I gotta keep thinking of ways to convince you to spend time with me."
I curl my good leg under me as the show begins, settling back comfortably so our shoulders are touching.
"You don't have to convince me."
*
"Oh my god look at that cheesecake. Caramel? Oh, that is entirely unfair. She may be annoying but I'll take her cake."
Callie makes a face at the screen, setting her wine glass down on the table in front of us.
"She's more than annoying."
She mimics the contestant's whiny voice and I laugh, shushing her.
"But seriously, I want her cake."
"Nah, you don't want her cake. You're not into redheads so much."
I turn and gape at her, smacking her arm. She so did not.
"Calliope!"
Eyes gleaming like a mischievous child, she bursts out laughing at my scandalised look.
"Well! It's true."
I shake my head, laughing as a commercial break comes on. We're almost done our second episode and our commentary tonight has been golden. It feels like the early days of our relationship again.
Setting my glass down beside hers I settle back, silence falling over us as a commercial for some other show flashes across the screen.
"Did you have anyone else's cake? ...while...we were apart?"
I glance over quickly as I voice the question, hoping it's not going to ruin the fun we've been having. I'm just curious...I often wondered over the last five months, despite never seeing her with anyone else, and I just need to know.
“I'm sorry, that is really none of my business. I didn't...just,” I falter a bit, deflating, “just so you know.”
She leans back a little, pulling the fleece throw over our laps more and fiddling with it, stalling for a few seconds before she answers.
"Just once."
I nod, watching her until she looks up.
"I just wondered."
"Yeah, I just met her at Joe's. We danced a lot and drank a lot and," she shrugs a shoulder, "it just ended up being the one night."
Curiosity getting the best of me now - a little jealously too, admittedly, I have to ask more.
"How come?"
I hold my hand over palm up and she takes it, curling our fingers together. The show comes back on and she diverts her eyes back to the television.
"She just...she wasn't you."
I squeeze her hand and shift a bit on the couch, leaning in to rest my head on her shoulder. We just watch the show for a few minutes quietly, and then she pulls her hand from mine and slips her arm in behind me, wrapping it around my shoulders.
The move is familiar, and comforting as I settle against her a little more intimately. I can smell the faint traces of her body wash and the lingering perfume on her skin, and I simply let out a content sigh.
"Oh," I point at the television after a moment, "look at this guy though. That guy has no idea what he's doing."
"Right? And he's trying way too hard with that hipster look. Who wears a scarf to bake?"
"Even I could beat this guy."
Callie's fingers pause their idle movements along my arm, and she looks down with a perfectly raised eyebrow and a grin. Our relaxed mood is back, and she has an almost teasing tone to her voice as she replies.
"Let's not be crazy here."
*
Two hours later it's nearing midnight and we're rounding off the fourth episode of our favourite show. I remember years ago when we'd discovered our shared love of cooking competitions -- Callie because she actually likes to cook, and is good at it, and me mostly because I just love food and love pretending I'll ever learn how to make these creations. It had been our go-to pastime from then on whenever we just wanted a night in to relax and to spend some time together. And our running commentaries made it all the more ridiculous and entertaining.
It had helped bring us back together after every argument and break-up, I realize now -- and after my amputation, after the trauma of the crash, it had given us something to share to start the process of returning our lives to normal.
Callie's head is now resting in my lap, her body curled up along the length of the couch as she watches the show. I can never keep my hands out of her hair, so it's loose now from its bun and my fingers are sliding through it delicately, enjoying the feel of silky strands as they fall between my fingers.
"I say sequin shirt lady is going to win."
I study the contestant on screen, my fingers pausing their motion for a moment.
"Agreed. She was leap years ahead of Mr. Macho Tight Pants, and well, I mean let's face it...poodle lady majorly failed the last round."
Callie grins and rolls onto her back to look up at me, dark hair splaying across my lap as my fingers caress her scalp again.
"I hope this never changes. I hope we never change -- that no matter what, we're wrinkly old ladies someday still giving a sassy commentary to our favourite cooking shows. Sofia will roll her eyes at us so hard."
I grin down at her, laughing softly.
"We will be. The Great British Bake-Off has been the one constant in our lives."
"Not the only constant," she replies immediately, a trace of seriousness entering her voice.
I gently run my finger down the line of her jaw, tracing it, committing it to memory for the millionth time.
"You're right," I respond softly, "not the only one."
Dark brown eyes watch me closely, as if searching for something, and I'm drawn into their impossible depths with one glance to meet her gaze. I remember our conversation from weeks ago, sitting on my bed as we laid everything out in the open. The things she'd said had stayed with me.
"The other one is the love. I have always, and will always love you, Calliope Iphegenia Torres."
Something changes then in her eyes, and she stills my hand by reaching up and taking it in hers.
"You do."
It's not a question, like the first time I spoke the words years ago, but a statement that falls quietly from her lips. And I think I realize in that moment what she meant -- that she knows, she'll always know, but hearing me say it out loud is what she really needs. I think it might be what both of us need.
"And I love you too."
I tighten my fingers around hers, watching them fit together, and when I look back to see her still watching me, I suddenly make a decision.
"I want to move in."