GA Drabbles (1)
Title: GA Drabble
Author: wICKEDjOY
Characters: Erica Hahn, Callie Torres, Original Characters - Callie/Hahn
Rating: M for language
Standard 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 libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: Thanks for all the feedback. Sorry, I'm still off my game.
We’re Not Gonna Take It - 500
“I am so, so gay. I am extremely gay!” Erica declares, laughing.
“Uh…” Callie’s face falls. “I’ve gotta go,” and she flees the scene.
The rejection hurts. Erica can feel the sting of tears, but is suddenly overwhelmed with indignation. She’s had enough.
“Hang on! Hang on. Cut the crap!” She breaks the 4th wall. Staring straight into the camera she demands, “What the hell is this?! She runs out on me again?”
When she gets no acknowledgement whatsoever, she bristles. “This is fucked.” Raising her voice she calls out, “Hey Callie. Get back here!”
Uh Oh. The camera shakes from left to right. No.
She sighs. “Must we perpetuate the miserable lesbian stereotype? Or, or, the crazy, bisexual slut?” she finishes, pointing at Callie as she peeks back into the room. “I mean, who the hell is this schizo, and what have you done with Callie?”
The disembodied voice of a cheery sounding woman attempts to pacify her. “We don’t know what you mean, Erica,” she scoffs. “Callie is just going through some very amusing gay-panic. It’s such a funny, interesting way to explore this storyline.”
Erica frowns. She looks at Callie. Then back at the camera. “Seriously?”
“Yes. And your own development is so relatable, so real,” the voice continues, “It’s so organic.”
“Look, I know I’m getting screwed here,” Erica snaps, “and not by Callie. God knows, every time I get close to the woman, you pan away and I miss out on any action,” she grumbles.
Callie just blushes.
“And who has amazing, earth-shattering, life-changing sex dressed in these freaking Grandma Nighties! I mean, I’m sitting in here in a sack from the farmers market and she’s wrapped in set of curtains someone tossed in the seventies!” She scrunches her nose up at Callie’s nightie.
Suddenly the roof tilts open and Erica is blinded by white light. The next thing she knows, she is out on her ass.
Picking herself up and dusting off she notices a young woman sitting on the curb.
“Oh my God!” the woman utters, wide-eyed. “I didn’t realise you were expendable.”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Erica asks, approaching her.
“I’m Dee Dee from costumes.” She shakes her hand. “I made the mistake of assuming you and Dr. Torres would be naked under the sheets for this scene. After all, Torres was naked when we shot both scenes with Sloan.”
“You mean there’s a double standard?” Erica exclaims in mock shock.
“When the producers suggested that thing,” she points at Erica’s nightie. “I objected. Next thing I know, I’m out on my ass.”
Erica joins her on the curb. They sit in silence.
Then the back door of the studio swings open and a young man is booted onto the street.
“What did you do?” Erica asks him.
“Refused to write an Izzie/Dead Denny sex scene,” he replies.
The women look at each other, horrified.
“You know,” Erica decides after a moment, “I think I like it better out here.”
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Author: wICKEDjOY
Characters: Erica Hahn, Callie Torres, Original Characters - Callie/Hahn
Rating: M for language
Standard 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 libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: Thanks for all the feedback. Sorry, I'm still off my game.
We’re Not Gonna Take It - 500
“I am so, so gay. I am extremely gay!” Erica declares, laughing.
“Uh…” Callie’s face falls. “I’ve gotta go,” and she flees the scene.
The rejection hurts. Erica can feel the sting of tears, but is suddenly overwhelmed with indignation. She’s had enough.
“Hang on! Hang on. Cut the crap!” She breaks the 4th wall. Staring straight into the camera she demands, “What the hell is this?! She runs out on me again?”
When she gets no acknowledgement whatsoever, she bristles. “This is fucked.” Raising her voice she calls out, “Hey Callie. Get back here!”
Uh Oh. The camera shakes from left to right. No.
She sighs. “Must we perpetuate the miserable lesbian stereotype? Or, or, the crazy, bisexual slut?” she finishes, pointing at Callie as she peeks back into the room. “I mean, who the hell is this schizo, and what have you done with Callie?”
The disembodied voice of a cheery sounding woman attempts to pacify her. “We don’t know what you mean, Erica,” she scoffs. “Callie is just going through some very amusing gay-panic. It’s such a funny, interesting way to explore this storyline.”
Erica frowns. She looks at Callie. Then back at the camera. “Seriously?”
“Yes. And your own development is so relatable, so real,” the voice continues, “It’s so organic.”
“Look, I know I’m getting screwed here,” Erica snaps, “and not by Callie. God knows, every time I get close to the woman, you pan away and I miss out on any action,” she grumbles.
Callie just blushes.
“And who has amazing, earth-shattering, life-changing sex dressed in these freaking Grandma Nighties! I mean, I’m sitting in here in a sack from the farmers market and she’s wrapped in set of curtains someone tossed in the seventies!” She scrunches her nose up at Callie’s nightie.
Suddenly the roof tilts open and Erica is blinded by white light. The next thing she knows, she is out on her ass.
Picking herself up and dusting off she notices a young woman sitting on the curb.
“Oh my God!” the woman utters, wide-eyed. “I didn’t realise you were expendable.”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Erica asks, approaching her.
“I’m Dee Dee from costumes.” She shakes her hand. “I made the mistake of assuming you and Dr. Torres would be naked under the sheets for this scene. After all, Torres was naked when we shot both scenes with Sloan.”
“You mean there’s a double standard?” Erica exclaims in mock shock.
“When the producers suggested that thing,” she points at Erica’s nightie. “I objected. Next thing I know, I’m out on my ass.”
Erica joins her on the curb. They sit in silence.
Then the back door of the studio swings open and a young man is booted onto the street.
“What did you do?” Erica asks him.
“Refused to write an Izzie/Dead Denny sex scene,” he replies.
The women look at each other, horrified.
“You know,” Erica decides after a moment, “I think I like it better out here.”
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