Fic: Well Maybe What You Want is Right Here 22/?
Title: Well Maybe What You Want is Right Here 22/?
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. Reunion fic.
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 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Callie
I'm usually awake before Arizona.
Neither of us are morning people, but I usually wake up naturally a little bit before our alarm goes off; and although I sometimes find her bright blue eyes already watching me, more often I find her snuggled up against me, her body contoured to mine in sleep.
I love those brief stretches of morning. Just watching her, listening to the soft, steady breaths as she enjoys her last few precious minutes of sleep.
This morning she’s resting on her side facing me, one arm curled under the pillow and the other draped over my waist, her palm warm against my bare skin where my tank top has ridden up.
I smile, gently brushing a sleep tousled curl back from her forehead - the blonde has always been a touchy sleeper, a cuddler, and it’s one of my absolute favourite things about waking up beside her. It’s not in a clingy way, but simply that she always seems to have some part of her touching some part of me; we usually start out spooned together anyway, but even if we don’t it’s like she automatically migrates closer during the night. Even when we had only just started sleeping together, the first nights that she slept over, I would find her arm or her leg tangled around me, or even just her back pressed up against mine during the night. Erica had been the very opposite - resolutely needing her space the few times we spent the night together - and so had George, even when we were married. And so the Peds surgeon had taken me by surprise, her need for contact something that I immediately loved about her.
It was just a simple act of intimacy, really, but that’s what I loved so much about it. It was different to what I had ever experienced with anyone else. Even after the amputation, when we would go to bed with three feet of space and pillows between us, anytime I woke during the night I would find her fingers tangled with mine, or her arm curling over the barrier to lightly rest against me.
She would remove them quickly in the morning then, and so I learned to sometimes pretend I was still asleep just to have a few more minutes. But even so, the knowledge that unconsciously, in her sleep, she sought out that contact was enough to keep me going. It's the one thing that has never changed over the years, and the one thing I hope never will.
Sometimes now, of course, I wake up to our little girl in bed between us, curled up against either Arizona or myself after a bad dream or during one of Seattle's many storms. Sofia's a snuggler too -- she couldn't not be, with us as parents -- but even with her in the middle, Arizona always finds my hand, or has her arm wrapped protectively around both of us.
Soon, there could be another tiny body snuggling in with us.
The thought makes me smile again, and I softly run my fingers through the silky tresses strewn across the pillow, the smaller woman only sighing contently as she starts to rouse from sleep. I can’t help but wonder if this baby will look like her. If it'll have her piercing blue eyes, or her blonde hair, her adorable dimples. I really hope it does.
The briefest of thoughts flashes through my mind though, and I feel a clutch of tension at my chest. What if her worries aren't unfounded?
Until she'd spoken them out loud a few weeks ago, I had honestly never considered the possibility that there was anything to worry about. And the doctor had reassured us -- Addison, one of my closest friends, had reassured us -- but...somehow, my wife's own fears had taken hold in me as well.
Because I'd already lost her before.
Twice.
She’d died out there in the woods when her plane went down. For all intents and purposes, for all we knew, they were dead when the search-and-rescue team told us it was now search-and-recovery. I can remember the look on Owen's face when he told me, remember the all-consuming grief at the thought that my happy ending had been ripped away from me so soon. Those three days were the most terrifying of my life and the fourth, up until I heard she had actually been found alive, had been the most devastating.
And then she'd come home, but she’d died on that operating table.
Her heart had only stopped for the briefest of moments as they got her into surgery -- but a moment is all it takes sometimes to lose somebody. And again, the paralyzing fear that had gripped my heart had been unbearable.
“Callie?”
Arizona’s soft, sleepy voice draws me back to the present, and I look down as she pulls herself closer, face nuzzling the crook of my neck before resting back on the pillow.
“Mm, you look too deep in thought for this early in the morning."
A soft sigh escapes my lips and I smile, propping my head on my arm as I smooth a hand down over her stomach, exposed now where she's let the blankets slip down.
"Just thinking about you."
She blinks sleepily, eyes becoming more alert as she looks up at me again. She lifts her hand and lightly touches my cheek, and I press a kiss to her palm as she watches.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I reply softly, knowing she can read the undertones in my voice anyway, "just...I love you, you know that?"
"I do," the blonde smiles, her fingers tangling lightly with mine where they rest on her stomach, "I love you too."
My eyes are drawn downward to our hands, and as I gaze at the flat plain of her stomach I can't help the delighted butterflies in my own as I think of how beautiful she'll look when she's pregnant. I had so been looking forward to that the last time, and I so desperately want to experience it now.
"I think we should give this six months."
I look back up to meet my wife's eyes, and see the slight confusion clouding them at my words.
"You want to wait?"
Shaking my head slightly, I tighten my hold on her hand, clarifying my thoughts.
"No, I mean..." I pause slightly, "I think we should try for six months. I know we got lucky the first time, and maybe we will again, who knows, but I think we should give it six cycles and then we should decide on another option."
I finish my sentence quickly, letting out a slightly worried breath.
"Don't be mad."
"Calliope..." she rolls onto her side again to face me, "I'm not mad. And I know it might not happen right away, but I hope it does before then."
She studies me for a minute, reaching up to tuck some hair behind my ear with a gentle touch.
"But at the end of the day, I know we just want another baby. So I'm okay with looking at other options."
I don't know why I thought she would be upset with me, not when our last plan had been a surrogate, and not her -- but I feel my insides relax a little when she agrees with me.
"It's just...I wasn't worried before. Until a few weeks ago. And I know Dr. Neale said we really don't need to be, and I trust her, I do, but I think...there's just only so much I'm willing to put you and your body through, Arizona. I want another kid with you like you wouldn't believe, but I'm not willing to risk you over it. Not physically, not mentally, not at all."
The other woman's eyes soften, a host of emotions passing through them as she remains silent.
"Because I can't lose you again. I can't. I can't do it."
"Calliope..."
She murmurs my name, reaching up to cup my cheek as she leans in and kisses me, her lips lingering on mine softly. I press my hand over hers, holding her there, and lean our foreheads together with a gentle sigh as I speak again.
"I just need you to know that you are enough. No matter what, you and Sofia are enough."
Arizona kisses me again softly, pulling back to look me in the eye as she leans on her elbow.
"You're enough for me too. You're my girls. And Callie, whatever happens -- whether we have another daughter, or a son, or get a puppy or none of the above -- you need to know that I am so completely, indescribably happy. I don't need another baby to be happy, I want one because I just cannot get enough of the life we have together. I just want to share that with another child."
I wipe at the corner of my eye a little and I hear the bedroom door opening slowly, Sofia's voice carrying through the space.
"Mommies?"
"Morning, baby, " I smile as she peeks around the door, a grin spreading over her face as she bounds over, "come on up."
She scrambles up onto the foot of the bed and crawls up between us, plopping down with her back against Arizona's front, her head sharing her mama's pillow. Arizona smiles, wrapping her arm around the girl and dropping a kiss on her temple, and Sofia reaches out to play with the loose ends of my hair.
"Is there no school today?"
I laugh softly, booping her small nose with my finger and grinning when she wrinkles it.
"There is school today, miss Sofia. We'll have to get up pretty soon."
"Maaama?"
The girl tilts her head to look back, batting her eyes a little, as if hoping for a different answer from her other parent.
"Sorry, baby, but mommy is right. You have to go to school today."
She grins at me when Sofia wrinkles her nose again, settling back on the pillow, and a soft laugh escapes her throat.
"Who would have thought I'd become the good cop in this family?"
"Seriously," I raise an eyebrow slightly, "you're supposed to be the tough military one. Your dad would be dismayed."
"You-know-who has The Colonel wrapped around her little finger."
I laugh softly -- because it's so true -- and I snuggle over closer to enjoy a few more minutes before we really do have to get up and start our day.
Arizona is right. We want another baby, not because we need more happiness, but because we have so much happiness to share, so much love to give. But no matter what happens, or how it happens, that isn't going to change.
The three of us are amazing. We'll always be amazing.
Four will be incredible.
*
Arizona
"Callie!"
I spot an unmistakable wave of dark hair turn the corner down the hall and I hurry after my wife, calling to get her attention. The last few days have been insane -- a motor accident involving a family of six had been rushed into the ER yesterday, and aside from actually sharing two surgeries yesterday I feel like I've barely had a chance to see her, even at home. We've been home late, back to work early, and our only time together has really just been sleeping and managing to feed and coordinate schedules for Sofia.
"Callie, hey," I round the corner and catch up to her, pulling out my phone to glance at it when it beeps with a message, "I finally have a bit of free time, I'm going to go pick up the books so tonight we can--"
I look up from my phone, pausing when I see Amelia standing with the orthopedic surgeon, tablet in hand, clearly in the middle of something.
The youngest Shepherd quirks a grin, amused at my likely-flustered face as I realize what I was just about to say. We decided we're not going to tell anyone, even friends, right now that we're trying.
"What books?"
Callie looks at me, then back at Amelia quickly.
"The uh, library books. At home. They're overdue and we need to take them back tonight."
"Right," I nod in agreement, "library books."
Amelia gives us a weird look.
"As if you two actually have time to read for pleasure."
"They're Sofia's," I reply quickly -- maybe a little too quickly in hindsight, "we just got her a library card a few weeks ago."
"Riiiight okay, well," she looks at Callie and waves the tablet a little, "as I was saying, our guy has been stable since this morning, so I'm going to run a few post-op tests but you should be able to take him in and finish up with the shoulder."
I watch as the taller woman nods, professional mask back in place.
"Perfect. Let me know if anything changes then."
Amelia smirks a little in my direction.
"You two can take care of your books now, no need to wait for tonight. Pretty sure on-call room three is empty."
She turns on her heel and heads off toward the patient rooms, and I just stare at her retreating form before I burst out laughing.
"Did she just imply that books was a euphemism for sex? Really?"
"Well..." the brunette eyes me, tugging the lapels of my lab coat and pulling me in, "it could be. I have like half an hour."
"Calliope..." I draw her name out, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips, "I don't think we have time..."
"Oh, we have time."
She snakes her hand along my waist, brushing her fingers under the hem of my scrub top, my jacket concealing her wandering hand from passersby. The touch is light and barely skims my skin, but it sends a small shiver of desire through my body.
"I really need to go pick up the selection books from the donor bank..." I lick my lips a little at the look she's giving me, "they close at 4:30. We need to choose our guy."
I take a step back from her, forcing myself to break the physical contact, but she grabs my wrist, lifting it to glance at my watch.
"It's 3:15 now. I'll have you out of here by 3:45, I can work with half an hour."
She raises her eyebrow suggestively, a sexy smirk curving her lips upwards, and I know it's a mistake -- I know it is -- but I meet her eyes and then there's no turning back.
I grasp her hand, turning to head into the on-call room just down the hall.
"Half an hour."
*
The door is barely shut, lock sliding into place, when two strong arms press me back against it and her hands are all over me - one of them sliding under the front of my scrub top, the other tangling in my hair as she crashes her lips against mine. I kiss her back, a low groan muffling itself against her lips, and I can feel my body instantly reacting, heat flooding my veins with every touch.
She pulls me forward after a minute, kisses increasing in intensity as she guides me backward to the small bed. Her deft fingers work open the tie on my scrub pants and she tugs them down, letting them pool at my feet as she lifts my hips and deposits me on the mattress with a grin.
"Countdown on."
Her hand encircles my wrist again, her thumb rubbing distracting circles against my skin as she shifts over me, leaning in to draw my earlobe between her teeth, her tongue flickering out to tease as she nibbles lightly. Her mouth releases my earlobe quickly though, and she trails her tongue down along my jaw, leaving a path of moisture that cools when the air hits and makes me whimper for more contact.
I grab her hand then and slide it down my front, pulling her to where she knows I need her most. She chuckles softly against my neck before leaning up and kissing me again, and I feel her strong fingers push just under the waist of my underwear, tracing along my heated skin.
“I love when you get demanding," she murmurs, "and to think, you wanted to say no..."
She slides her tongue against mine and I let my fingers get lost in luxurious waves of hair, finding it very difficult to form any coherent response, and not really caring if I do or not.
A gasp leaves my throat though as her hand slides lower, pushing beneath the thin cotton that separates our skin, and she lets one long finger circle over me. My body shudders underneath her, and I instinctively arch upwards seeking more -- needing more. I feel her purr against my ear and she suddenly slides her fingers inside me, sending jolts of electricity through my system and almost immediately bringing me to the edge of release.
She wasn't kidding when she said she could work with half an hour.
*
Exactly thirty-five minutes later I slip out of the room, running my fingers through my hair to smooth it back up into a ponytail. Sex with Calliope always means messy hair. The woman is obsessed with having her hands in it, no matter what we're doing.
Which works for me, because I love having it played with.
I glance over my shoulder as she follows me out and throw her a playful smile, stepping back to kiss her cheek.
"I'll see you at home, babe."
The term of endearment slips effortlessly from my lips, even though I almost never use it, and I see Callie's eyes brighten as she smiles. She straightens my necklace, settling the pendant in the middle of my chest, and lets her fingers linger for just a moment.
"See you at home. I'll get supper on my way."
"And don't forget Sofia is going home with the Shepherds, so you don't have to pick her up."
I glance at my watch again and give her one last smile before hurrying off to change out of my scrubs. I'm just going to make it.
*
Callie
I actually get out of work relatively on time -- our patients are all stable, no emergencies come in, and all told it is a surprisingly quiet Friday night around the hospital. I'm grateful, because I have a date with a certain hot blonde who's waiting at home with a book full of sperm donors.
I laugh a little as I get back into the car with our Thai takeout -- there's a sentence I never thought I'd say.
When I get home I can hear the shower on in our bedroom, so I head to the kitchen and get some plates and utensils out, and drop everything off on the coffee table in the living room before I pad down to the bedroom to change.
The door to the ensuite is open and I catch a whiff of cherry blossom body wash as soon as I step into the bedroom, a scent that has always been unmistakably Arizona. It brings a smile to my face as I start changing into more comfortable clothes -- it's a scent that I would never have chosen for myself, but now it's one of my favourites. It's comfort, and desire, and safety all rolled into one. It smells like home.
The water shuts off and a few minutes later Arizona emerges wrapped in a towel, her hair falling damp around her shoulders, as I pull on my favourite old sweats.
"I thought I heard you out here," she smiles, crossing over to the dresser, "did you just get home?"
"Yep. I brought Thai for supper."
I watch unabashedly as the blonde unwraps her towel, using it to give her hair another squeeze dry before she pulls on some pajama shorts and a tank top. She carries the towel back to hang it up, and emerges again with a slight grin on her face.
"Pad Thai and man catalogues. Sounds like a good night to me."
I can't help the laugh that bubbles from my throat as I follow her out, reaching up to trail my hand down her spine.
"Did you seriously just call them man catalogues?"
"Well! That's kind of what they are. We're going to pick one and then...order him. And get it delivered, I might add."
She grabs the binders from the hall table and carries them with her into the living room, and I can't suppress another laugh.
"I suppose that's actually true. It's really too bad she doesn't want us to use the last guy again -- he sounded so perfect."
"I know," she sets them down and lowers herself to the floor, leaning back against the couch and stretching her legs under the table, "but I'm sure we'll find someone else good."
She dishes up the food and I settle down beside her, pouring us some wine and opening the first binder on the table between us. It's kind of fun, in a way, browsing through the donor descriptions and reading their stats and bios. We'd spent several evenings the last time debating before finally settling on someone.
"Okay," the blonde picks up a spring roll and looks down at the first page, "who do we have?"
"Caucasian, French/Scottish heritage, 6'2. Brown hair, brown eyes...he's an accountant, so he's gotta be pretty smart."
"Callie, do you want a Latino donor?"
I look up as she speaks, and find her blue eyes curiously watching me.
"I know the last time you said it didn't matter, but wouldn't it be nice if the baby shared some of your heritage too? And Sofia's?"
I set my wine down, considering her question. It's true that the last time I didn't want that to be a deciding factor when we chose our donor, because in all honesty it didn't matter to me -- not if they weren't the best choice overall. But maybe now that we have Sofia we should think about it more.
"I don't know...I mean sure, it'd be nice, but it's not first and foremost in my mind. And honestly? I kind of want the baby to look like you..."
I reach up, brushing my thumb along the corner of her eye.
"I mean, how freaking adorable would a tiny version of you be? I've seen your baby pictures. The blue eyes alone would kill me."
Arizona grins, the eyes in question crinkling happily at the corners.
"It would still look half like me, you know. I mean either way, it's only going to be half me."
"The Latino genes are strong though -- I mean look at Sofia. You'd never guess Mark was her father if you didn't know."
"Oh trust me, the Robbins genes are strong too. Stubborn, one could say. There are almost exclusively blonde haired, blue eyed relatives in my family. And look at your dad -- your grandma was Irish, right? And he ended up getting blue eyes, presumably from her."
"True," I pick up my plate and take a bite of food, contemplating, "okay, let's say Latino donors are in the running, but they still have to be best overall. I'm not going to pick him just for that."
Arizona nods, taking a sip of her wine and flipping to the next page.
"Deal. They have these separated into sections, so we'll look at Caucasian and Latino. Ooh -- this guy sounds pretty good."
I lean closer to read out loud off the page, glancing at the included picture.
"He was a cute baby. English/Norwegian heritage, blonde, green eyes, 6'0. He's an Ivy League grad -- nice."
"And look -- he plays the guitar, he likes art and history. Speaks three languages. He's gotta be smart. And his parents and grandparents are still alive and healthy."
I bite into a spring roll, reading down the page some more.
"Wait, he's a doctor. I don't know if we need to give our kid anymore of the science genes. Poor Sofia is already destined to be a nerd."
The blonde lets out a laugh, pointing her chopsticks in my direction.
"If we were a straight couple, we'd be doing this the old fashioned way and our kid would have double science genes."
"But we're not," I counter, grinning at her, "so we have options."
I flip the page, and she just laughs at me again as we continue on to the next, and the next as we make our way through the catalogue. There really are a lot of good sounding choices -- most of these guys would probably make great babies.
We start in on the Latino section of the binders -- which is noticeably a smaller selection -- and I can't help think about the chances this baby could end up looking like my wife if we choose one of them. I really want a kid that takes after her. But...I think of Sofia, who's already going to have a hard enough time growing up as a minority, and with two mothers. Maybe having an ally in all aspects would be good for her.
"Latino, Mexican and Cuban heritage..." Arizona leans back with her glass, reading, "black hair, hazel eyes, 5'11."
"Hazel eyes? That sounds nice."
I lean back beside her, following as she keeps reading out loud.
"He's a university graduate, PhD, and a professor of art history. Likes reading, art, cooking, and writing. I like the writing bit -- I'd love our kid to get some creativity. Oh! He also plays piano and guitar, and speaks French!"
I grin at her excitement and top up our glasses with the last of the wine.
"He does sound pretty good. Definitely smart."
Leaning in again to look at his baby photo, I have to admit he was a pretty cute looking kid.
"That picture is definitely cute too. What's the health history like?"
"Let's see...nothing for him. No glasses or braces either. Both parents are still alive, and two grandparents...none of them have any hereditary diseases. Dad has diabetes, but it says it only developed in his 50s so not the juvenile type."
I finish reading over her shoulder, suitably impressed with the rest of his profile.
"Okay, let's add him to the strong maybes."
She slips the paper out and adds it to the pile on the table in front of us.
"We've got a lot of those."
*
Two hours later we've narrowed it down to two choices -- the hazel eyed Latino professor and a blonde, blue eyed, rock-band-playing engineer.
"Do you really think I'll like being pregnant?"
The question hangs between us for a moment, both because I remember her asking that last time, and because we both know that she...was pregnant, she just never got to experience much of it.
I look sideways and she's watching me, waiting for an answer, a barely detectable nervousness flitting through her eyes.
"You're going to love it."
"Really?"
I smile then, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
"Really. I mean yeah...a lot of it sucks, I'm not going to lie to you, but you got through the first trimester before and you honestly dealt with that part better than I did. And the rest..." I smile, remembering it myself, "it's a pretty great experience."
She smiles warmly, picking up the two remaining pieces of paper and holding them up in front of us.
"So who are we going to choose?"
I look at the papers again, contemplating both baby photos. We can't go wrong either way.
"I really like both of them. I think we should just flip a coin."
"I think we should pick the professor."
Her statement makes me look up again, and I glance over to meet her eyes before she elaborates.
"They both sound great. They're both smart, educated, artistic, and healthy. They're basically equal, right? And given that...I think I'd like to give our baby some of your heritage. I want our kids to be able to share that."
A smile tugs at my lips, and I find her hand in her lap and thread our fingers together. My wife is amazing.
"The professor it is."
She grins at me, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to my lips, and nothing but pure joy is evident in her voice when she speaks again, her breath a whisper against my skin as she rests her head on my shoulder.
"I can't wait."
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. Reunion fic.
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 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Callie
I'm usually awake before Arizona.
Neither of us are morning people, but I usually wake up naturally a little bit before our alarm goes off; and although I sometimes find her bright blue eyes already watching me, more often I find her snuggled up against me, her body contoured to mine in sleep.
I love those brief stretches of morning. Just watching her, listening to the soft, steady breaths as she enjoys her last few precious minutes of sleep.
This morning she’s resting on her side facing me, one arm curled under the pillow and the other draped over my waist, her palm warm against my bare skin where my tank top has ridden up.
I smile, gently brushing a sleep tousled curl back from her forehead - the blonde has always been a touchy sleeper, a cuddler, and it’s one of my absolute favourite things about waking up beside her. It’s not in a clingy way, but simply that she always seems to have some part of her touching some part of me; we usually start out spooned together anyway, but even if we don’t it’s like she automatically migrates closer during the night. Even when we had only just started sleeping together, the first nights that she slept over, I would find her arm or her leg tangled around me, or even just her back pressed up against mine during the night. Erica had been the very opposite - resolutely needing her space the few times we spent the night together - and so had George, even when we were married. And so the Peds surgeon had taken me by surprise, her need for contact something that I immediately loved about her.
It was just a simple act of intimacy, really, but that’s what I loved so much about it. It was different to what I had ever experienced with anyone else. Even after the amputation, when we would go to bed with three feet of space and pillows between us, anytime I woke during the night I would find her fingers tangled with mine, or her arm curling over the barrier to lightly rest against me.
She would remove them quickly in the morning then, and so I learned to sometimes pretend I was still asleep just to have a few more minutes. But even so, the knowledge that unconsciously, in her sleep, she sought out that contact was enough to keep me going. It's the one thing that has never changed over the years, and the one thing I hope never will.
Sometimes now, of course, I wake up to our little girl in bed between us, curled up against either Arizona or myself after a bad dream or during one of Seattle's many storms. Sofia's a snuggler too -- she couldn't not be, with us as parents -- but even with her in the middle, Arizona always finds my hand, or has her arm wrapped protectively around both of us.
Soon, there could be another tiny body snuggling in with us.
The thought makes me smile again, and I softly run my fingers through the silky tresses strewn across the pillow, the smaller woman only sighing contently as she starts to rouse from sleep. I can’t help but wonder if this baby will look like her. If it'll have her piercing blue eyes, or her blonde hair, her adorable dimples. I really hope it does.
The briefest of thoughts flashes through my mind though, and I feel a clutch of tension at my chest. What if her worries aren't unfounded?
Until she'd spoken them out loud a few weeks ago, I had honestly never considered the possibility that there was anything to worry about. And the doctor had reassured us -- Addison, one of my closest friends, had reassured us -- but...somehow, my wife's own fears had taken hold in me as well.
Because I'd already lost her before.
Twice.
She’d died out there in the woods when her plane went down. For all intents and purposes, for all we knew, they were dead when the search-and-rescue team told us it was now search-and-recovery. I can remember the look on Owen's face when he told me, remember the all-consuming grief at the thought that my happy ending had been ripped away from me so soon. Those three days were the most terrifying of my life and the fourth, up until I heard she had actually been found alive, had been the most devastating.
And then she'd come home, but she’d died on that operating table.
Her heart had only stopped for the briefest of moments as they got her into surgery -- but a moment is all it takes sometimes to lose somebody. And again, the paralyzing fear that had gripped my heart had been unbearable.
“Callie?”
Arizona’s soft, sleepy voice draws me back to the present, and I look down as she pulls herself closer, face nuzzling the crook of my neck before resting back on the pillow.
“Mm, you look too deep in thought for this early in the morning."
A soft sigh escapes my lips and I smile, propping my head on my arm as I smooth a hand down over her stomach, exposed now where she's let the blankets slip down.
"Just thinking about you."
She blinks sleepily, eyes becoming more alert as she looks up at me again. She lifts her hand and lightly touches my cheek, and I press a kiss to her palm as she watches.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I reply softly, knowing she can read the undertones in my voice anyway, "just...I love you, you know that?"
"I do," the blonde smiles, her fingers tangling lightly with mine where they rest on her stomach, "I love you too."
My eyes are drawn downward to our hands, and as I gaze at the flat plain of her stomach I can't help the delighted butterflies in my own as I think of how beautiful she'll look when she's pregnant. I had so been looking forward to that the last time, and I so desperately want to experience it now.
"I think we should give this six months."
I look back up to meet my wife's eyes, and see the slight confusion clouding them at my words.
"You want to wait?"
Shaking my head slightly, I tighten my hold on her hand, clarifying my thoughts.
"No, I mean..." I pause slightly, "I think we should try for six months. I know we got lucky the first time, and maybe we will again, who knows, but I think we should give it six cycles and then we should decide on another option."
I finish my sentence quickly, letting out a slightly worried breath.
"Don't be mad."
"Calliope..." she rolls onto her side again to face me, "I'm not mad. And I know it might not happen right away, but I hope it does before then."
She studies me for a minute, reaching up to tuck some hair behind my ear with a gentle touch.
"But at the end of the day, I know we just want another baby. So I'm okay with looking at other options."
I don't know why I thought she would be upset with me, not when our last plan had been a surrogate, and not her -- but I feel my insides relax a little when she agrees with me.
"It's just...I wasn't worried before. Until a few weeks ago. And I know Dr. Neale said we really don't need to be, and I trust her, I do, but I think...there's just only so much I'm willing to put you and your body through, Arizona. I want another kid with you like you wouldn't believe, but I'm not willing to risk you over it. Not physically, not mentally, not at all."
The other woman's eyes soften, a host of emotions passing through them as she remains silent.
"Because I can't lose you again. I can't. I can't do it."
"Calliope..."
She murmurs my name, reaching up to cup my cheek as she leans in and kisses me, her lips lingering on mine softly. I press my hand over hers, holding her there, and lean our foreheads together with a gentle sigh as I speak again.
"I just need you to know that you are enough. No matter what, you and Sofia are enough."
Arizona kisses me again softly, pulling back to look me in the eye as she leans on her elbow.
"You're enough for me too. You're my girls. And Callie, whatever happens -- whether we have another daughter, or a son, or get a puppy or none of the above -- you need to know that I am so completely, indescribably happy. I don't need another baby to be happy, I want one because I just cannot get enough of the life we have together. I just want to share that with another child."
I wipe at the corner of my eye a little and I hear the bedroom door opening slowly, Sofia's voice carrying through the space.
"Mommies?"
"Morning, baby, " I smile as she peeks around the door, a grin spreading over her face as she bounds over, "come on up."
She scrambles up onto the foot of the bed and crawls up between us, plopping down with her back against Arizona's front, her head sharing her mama's pillow. Arizona smiles, wrapping her arm around the girl and dropping a kiss on her temple, and Sofia reaches out to play with the loose ends of my hair.
"Is there no school today?"
I laugh softly, booping her small nose with my finger and grinning when she wrinkles it.
"There is school today, miss Sofia. We'll have to get up pretty soon."
"Maaama?"
The girl tilts her head to look back, batting her eyes a little, as if hoping for a different answer from her other parent.
"Sorry, baby, but mommy is right. You have to go to school today."
She grins at me when Sofia wrinkles her nose again, settling back on the pillow, and a soft laugh escapes her throat.
"Who would have thought I'd become the good cop in this family?"
"Seriously," I raise an eyebrow slightly, "you're supposed to be the tough military one. Your dad would be dismayed."
"You-know-who has The Colonel wrapped around her little finger."
I laugh softly -- because it's so true -- and I snuggle over closer to enjoy a few more minutes before we really do have to get up and start our day.
Arizona is right. We want another baby, not because we need more happiness, but because we have so much happiness to share, so much love to give. But no matter what happens, or how it happens, that isn't going to change.
The three of us are amazing. We'll always be amazing.
Four will be incredible.
*
Arizona
"Callie!"
I spot an unmistakable wave of dark hair turn the corner down the hall and I hurry after my wife, calling to get her attention. The last few days have been insane -- a motor accident involving a family of six had been rushed into the ER yesterday, and aside from actually sharing two surgeries yesterday I feel like I've barely had a chance to see her, even at home. We've been home late, back to work early, and our only time together has really just been sleeping and managing to feed and coordinate schedules for Sofia.
"Callie, hey," I round the corner and catch up to her, pulling out my phone to glance at it when it beeps with a message, "I finally have a bit of free time, I'm going to go pick up the books so tonight we can--"
I look up from my phone, pausing when I see Amelia standing with the orthopedic surgeon, tablet in hand, clearly in the middle of something.
The youngest Shepherd quirks a grin, amused at my likely-flustered face as I realize what I was just about to say. We decided we're not going to tell anyone, even friends, right now that we're trying.
"What books?"
Callie looks at me, then back at Amelia quickly.
"The uh, library books. At home. They're overdue and we need to take them back tonight."
"Right," I nod in agreement, "library books."
Amelia gives us a weird look.
"As if you two actually have time to read for pleasure."
"They're Sofia's," I reply quickly -- maybe a little too quickly in hindsight, "we just got her a library card a few weeks ago."
"Riiiight okay, well," she looks at Callie and waves the tablet a little, "as I was saying, our guy has been stable since this morning, so I'm going to run a few post-op tests but you should be able to take him in and finish up with the shoulder."
I watch as the taller woman nods, professional mask back in place.
"Perfect. Let me know if anything changes then."
Amelia smirks a little in my direction.
"You two can take care of your books now, no need to wait for tonight. Pretty sure on-call room three is empty."
She turns on her heel and heads off toward the patient rooms, and I just stare at her retreating form before I burst out laughing.
"Did she just imply that books was a euphemism for sex? Really?"
"Well..." the brunette eyes me, tugging the lapels of my lab coat and pulling me in, "it could be. I have like half an hour."
"Calliope..." I draw her name out, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips, "I don't think we have time..."
"Oh, we have time."
She snakes her hand along my waist, brushing her fingers under the hem of my scrub top, my jacket concealing her wandering hand from passersby. The touch is light and barely skims my skin, but it sends a small shiver of desire through my body.
"I really need to go pick up the selection books from the donor bank..." I lick my lips a little at the look she's giving me, "they close at 4:30. We need to choose our guy."
I take a step back from her, forcing myself to break the physical contact, but she grabs my wrist, lifting it to glance at my watch.
"It's 3:15 now. I'll have you out of here by 3:45, I can work with half an hour."
She raises her eyebrow suggestively, a sexy smirk curving her lips upwards, and I know it's a mistake -- I know it is -- but I meet her eyes and then there's no turning back.
I grasp her hand, turning to head into the on-call room just down the hall.
"Half an hour."
*
The door is barely shut, lock sliding into place, when two strong arms press me back against it and her hands are all over me - one of them sliding under the front of my scrub top, the other tangling in my hair as she crashes her lips against mine. I kiss her back, a low groan muffling itself against her lips, and I can feel my body instantly reacting, heat flooding my veins with every touch.
She pulls me forward after a minute, kisses increasing in intensity as she guides me backward to the small bed. Her deft fingers work open the tie on my scrub pants and she tugs them down, letting them pool at my feet as she lifts my hips and deposits me on the mattress with a grin.
"Countdown on."
Her hand encircles my wrist again, her thumb rubbing distracting circles against my skin as she shifts over me, leaning in to draw my earlobe between her teeth, her tongue flickering out to tease as she nibbles lightly. Her mouth releases my earlobe quickly though, and she trails her tongue down along my jaw, leaving a path of moisture that cools when the air hits and makes me whimper for more contact.
I grab her hand then and slide it down my front, pulling her to where she knows I need her most. She chuckles softly against my neck before leaning up and kissing me again, and I feel her strong fingers push just under the waist of my underwear, tracing along my heated skin.
“I love when you get demanding," she murmurs, "and to think, you wanted to say no..."
She slides her tongue against mine and I let my fingers get lost in luxurious waves of hair, finding it very difficult to form any coherent response, and not really caring if I do or not.
A gasp leaves my throat though as her hand slides lower, pushing beneath the thin cotton that separates our skin, and she lets one long finger circle over me. My body shudders underneath her, and I instinctively arch upwards seeking more -- needing more. I feel her purr against my ear and she suddenly slides her fingers inside me, sending jolts of electricity through my system and almost immediately bringing me to the edge of release.
She wasn't kidding when she said she could work with half an hour.
*
Exactly thirty-five minutes later I slip out of the room, running my fingers through my hair to smooth it back up into a ponytail. Sex with Calliope always means messy hair. The woman is obsessed with having her hands in it, no matter what we're doing.
Which works for me, because I love having it played with.
I glance over my shoulder as she follows me out and throw her a playful smile, stepping back to kiss her cheek.
"I'll see you at home, babe."
The term of endearment slips effortlessly from my lips, even though I almost never use it, and I see Callie's eyes brighten as she smiles. She straightens my necklace, settling the pendant in the middle of my chest, and lets her fingers linger for just a moment.
"See you at home. I'll get supper on my way."
"And don't forget Sofia is going home with the Shepherds, so you don't have to pick her up."
I glance at my watch again and give her one last smile before hurrying off to change out of my scrubs. I'm just going to make it.
*
Callie
I actually get out of work relatively on time -- our patients are all stable, no emergencies come in, and all told it is a surprisingly quiet Friday night around the hospital. I'm grateful, because I have a date with a certain hot blonde who's waiting at home with a book full of sperm donors.
I laugh a little as I get back into the car with our Thai takeout -- there's a sentence I never thought I'd say.
When I get home I can hear the shower on in our bedroom, so I head to the kitchen and get some plates and utensils out, and drop everything off on the coffee table in the living room before I pad down to the bedroom to change.
The door to the ensuite is open and I catch a whiff of cherry blossom body wash as soon as I step into the bedroom, a scent that has always been unmistakably Arizona. It brings a smile to my face as I start changing into more comfortable clothes -- it's a scent that I would never have chosen for myself, but now it's one of my favourites. It's comfort, and desire, and safety all rolled into one. It smells like home.
The water shuts off and a few minutes later Arizona emerges wrapped in a towel, her hair falling damp around her shoulders, as I pull on my favourite old sweats.
"I thought I heard you out here," she smiles, crossing over to the dresser, "did you just get home?"
"Yep. I brought Thai for supper."
I watch unabashedly as the blonde unwraps her towel, using it to give her hair another squeeze dry before she pulls on some pajama shorts and a tank top. She carries the towel back to hang it up, and emerges again with a slight grin on her face.
"Pad Thai and man catalogues. Sounds like a good night to me."
I can't help the laugh that bubbles from my throat as I follow her out, reaching up to trail my hand down her spine.
"Did you seriously just call them man catalogues?"
"Well! That's kind of what they are. We're going to pick one and then...order him. And get it delivered, I might add."
She grabs the binders from the hall table and carries them with her into the living room, and I can't suppress another laugh.
"I suppose that's actually true. It's really too bad she doesn't want us to use the last guy again -- he sounded so perfect."
"I know," she sets them down and lowers herself to the floor, leaning back against the couch and stretching her legs under the table, "but I'm sure we'll find someone else good."
She dishes up the food and I settle down beside her, pouring us some wine and opening the first binder on the table between us. It's kind of fun, in a way, browsing through the donor descriptions and reading their stats and bios. We'd spent several evenings the last time debating before finally settling on someone.
"Okay," the blonde picks up a spring roll and looks down at the first page, "who do we have?"
"Caucasian, French/Scottish heritage, 6'2. Brown hair, brown eyes...he's an accountant, so he's gotta be pretty smart."
"Callie, do you want a Latino donor?"
I look up as she speaks, and find her blue eyes curiously watching me.
"I know the last time you said it didn't matter, but wouldn't it be nice if the baby shared some of your heritage too? And Sofia's?"
I set my wine down, considering her question. It's true that the last time I didn't want that to be a deciding factor when we chose our donor, because in all honesty it didn't matter to me -- not if they weren't the best choice overall. But maybe now that we have Sofia we should think about it more.
"I don't know...I mean sure, it'd be nice, but it's not first and foremost in my mind. And honestly? I kind of want the baby to look like you..."
I reach up, brushing my thumb along the corner of her eye.
"I mean, how freaking adorable would a tiny version of you be? I've seen your baby pictures. The blue eyes alone would kill me."
Arizona grins, the eyes in question crinkling happily at the corners.
"It would still look half like me, you know. I mean either way, it's only going to be half me."
"The Latino genes are strong though -- I mean look at Sofia. You'd never guess Mark was her father if you didn't know."
"Oh trust me, the Robbins genes are strong too. Stubborn, one could say. There are almost exclusively blonde haired, blue eyed relatives in my family. And look at your dad -- your grandma was Irish, right? And he ended up getting blue eyes, presumably from her."
"True," I pick up my plate and take a bite of food, contemplating, "okay, let's say Latino donors are in the running, but they still have to be best overall. I'm not going to pick him just for that."
Arizona nods, taking a sip of her wine and flipping to the next page.
"Deal. They have these separated into sections, so we'll look at Caucasian and Latino. Ooh -- this guy sounds pretty good."
I lean closer to read out loud off the page, glancing at the included picture.
"He was a cute baby. English/Norwegian heritage, blonde, green eyes, 6'0. He's an Ivy League grad -- nice."
"And look -- he plays the guitar, he likes art and history. Speaks three languages. He's gotta be smart. And his parents and grandparents are still alive and healthy."
I bite into a spring roll, reading down the page some more.
"Wait, he's a doctor. I don't know if we need to give our kid anymore of the science genes. Poor Sofia is already destined to be a nerd."
The blonde lets out a laugh, pointing her chopsticks in my direction.
"If we were a straight couple, we'd be doing this the old fashioned way and our kid would have double science genes."
"But we're not," I counter, grinning at her, "so we have options."
I flip the page, and she just laughs at me again as we continue on to the next, and the next as we make our way through the catalogue. There really are a lot of good sounding choices -- most of these guys would probably make great babies.
We start in on the Latino section of the binders -- which is noticeably a smaller selection -- and I can't help think about the chances this baby could end up looking like my wife if we choose one of them. I really want a kid that takes after her. But...I think of Sofia, who's already going to have a hard enough time growing up as a minority, and with two mothers. Maybe having an ally in all aspects would be good for her.
"Latino, Mexican and Cuban heritage..." Arizona leans back with her glass, reading, "black hair, hazel eyes, 5'11."
"Hazel eyes? That sounds nice."
I lean back beside her, following as she keeps reading out loud.
"He's a university graduate, PhD, and a professor of art history. Likes reading, art, cooking, and writing. I like the writing bit -- I'd love our kid to get some creativity. Oh! He also plays piano and guitar, and speaks French!"
I grin at her excitement and top up our glasses with the last of the wine.
"He does sound pretty good. Definitely smart."
Leaning in again to look at his baby photo, I have to admit he was a pretty cute looking kid.
"That picture is definitely cute too. What's the health history like?"
"Let's see...nothing for him. No glasses or braces either. Both parents are still alive, and two grandparents...none of them have any hereditary diseases. Dad has diabetes, but it says it only developed in his 50s so not the juvenile type."
I finish reading over her shoulder, suitably impressed with the rest of his profile.
"Okay, let's add him to the strong maybes."
She slips the paper out and adds it to the pile on the table in front of us.
"We've got a lot of those."
*
Two hours later we've narrowed it down to two choices -- the hazel eyed Latino professor and a blonde, blue eyed, rock-band-playing engineer.
"Do you really think I'll like being pregnant?"
The question hangs between us for a moment, both because I remember her asking that last time, and because we both know that she...was pregnant, she just never got to experience much of it.
I look sideways and she's watching me, waiting for an answer, a barely detectable nervousness flitting through her eyes.
"You're going to love it."
"Really?"
I smile then, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
"Really. I mean yeah...a lot of it sucks, I'm not going to lie to you, but you got through the first trimester before and you honestly dealt with that part better than I did. And the rest..." I smile, remembering it myself, "it's a pretty great experience."
She smiles warmly, picking up the two remaining pieces of paper and holding them up in front of us.
"So who are we going to choose?"
I look at the papers again, contemplating both baby photos. We can't go wrong either way.
"I really like both of them. I think we should just flip a coin."
"I think we should pick the professor."
Her statement makes me look up again, and I glance over to meet her eyes before she elaborates.
"They both sound great. They're both smart, educated, artistic, and healthy. They're basically equal, right? And given that...I think I'd like to give our baby some of your heritage. I want our kids to be able to share that."
A smile tugs at my lips, and I find her hand in her lap and thread our fingers together. My wife is amazing.
"The professor it is."
She grins at me, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to my lips, and nothing but pure joy is evident in her voice when she speaks again, her breath a whisper against my skin as she rests her head on my shoulder.
"I can't wait."