The Game Is On (1/?)
Title: The Game Is On (1/?)
Author: Saffinity (Jade)
Pairing: Callica, Callie/Erica
Rating: PG-13. No smut just yet, but potential for some later on.
Summary: Erica meets one Arizona Robbins for the first time.
Disclaimer: I'm just "borrowing" the characters and setting. I do not own anything except the way in which these are placed on the page. Entertainment only, no profit involved, etc. Promise :)
A/N: Ok, I seriously need your help on this. Feedback would be massively appreciated, also - whether or not you think I should continue with this, or leave it as this sort of.. Tame-one-shot-type. Also - If it was continued, as you will see, the time-line from Grey's has been altered slightly, as have some of the facts. Callica are friends to begin with here - just to save confusion :) Enjoy.
We’re at Joe’s yet again. It’s become a regular meeting place for us. It seems I can’t be friends with both Callie and my liver. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I mean, bars aren’t usually my scene, all that small talk and the false niceties with strangers. But there’s something about being here - or anywhere, if we’re being honest - with Callie that’s.. Fun. Not even the forced kind of fun where you laugh just to avoid awkwardness. No, it’s comfortable. We’re comfortable.
Callie’s been trying to convince me to dance for the better part of this evening, but I turn my nose up and take a drink before she can use the face on me. Never have I before met someone as subtly persuasive as Calliope Torres. That woman and that pout - deadly combination.
And she knows it.
It’s usually the tactic she uses to get me to try ‘new things’. Most of the time I don’t mind; Sunrise Yoga, visiting the Space Needle.. But once in a while she comes up with a truly awful idea. And I agree to it. Case in point, roller disco - I’ll say no more. Dancing while sober, to me, is the equivalent of falling on my 40 year old ass in front of a bunch of gangly youths.
She’s wearing this amazing jewelled green dress-top type with slim fitting jeans underneath. She looks incredible, and I’ve already clocked numerous guys drooling over her.
She tells me I’m looking good tonight, and somehow that feels better than when some guy offers to buy me a drink. He’s a nice enough guy; good looking, well dressed, but I politely decline, and return to Callie.
We spend most of the evening laughing at a table, because as much as she wants to dance, she refuses to leave me alone. That is, until one of her favourite songs comes on and she starts half-dragging my protesting carcass towards an empty space again.
She eventually gives up and dances off on her own. I watch her, because she’s still watching me and I grin when she shimmies her hips with a smirk. She’s an amazing dancer. Her body’s movement is making her top dance over her curves and, if possible, she looks even nicer.
I see some guy dance up behind her, as they often do, and she smiles civilly but moves out of his reach. The guy gets the point after Callie continues to ignore him, keeping her eyes in my direction. I feel my smile broaden inexplicably.
Because I’m pre-occupied, it takes me a few seconds to realise I’m no longer alone. I offer an apology, and look at the blonde curiously.
“Can I help you?”
“Hey, I’m Arizona.” The woman sits uninvited next to me, but I don’t say anything because I’m still clueless. She looks familiar, but I doubt we’ve ever met. She’s tall-ish, and her blonde curls are probably about the same length as my own. I stare at her expectantly, which, it seems, is enough to prompt her.
“So, the girl you’re with.. The super hot dancer.. Is she yours?”
Dakota, or Miami.. Whatever the hell her name was, takes a sip from the drink she’s holding and watches me. ‘super hot’? Is she checking Callie out? Better yet, is she asking if Callie and I are together? The realisation makes me want to laugh, but I don’t; I just sit. Evidently, my silence compels her again, because she adds,
“Your girlfriend.. Is she your girlfriend? I’ve been watching you both, and you’re throwing all kinds of signals. In the end, I figured I’d give up and ask..” She smiles, “So I’m asking.” She says, pointlessly.
She practically sings, rather than speaks. She seems annoyingly upbeat, in the kind of way that reminds me of pediatricians. It doesn’t play well against my largely cynical self. In fact, it makes me want to strangle a few dozen mockingbirds.
I can’t help quirking an eyebrow while my brain processes. She wants clearance.. To hit on Callie.. Wait a minute, what signals?!
“You want to know if Callie is free? So you can go hit on her?”
I’m stalling, and she knows it because her perfect little grin slips a little, as though dealing with a difficult child. It’s a look that pisses me off slightly, but mostly, I’m strangely glad that I annoy her. There’s a different song playing, so I glance around to see where Callie is. She’s heading towards the bathroom.
“What makes you think that Callie even swings that way?”
I wonder very briefly whether part of me is asking because I kind of want to know too, but I ignore the thought because Arizona smirks as though I’m not understanding something that’s overly simple - it agitates me again.
“I don’t recall asking if she was gay, thanks.. But even if she’s not, there’s a first time for everything.” She winks at me and then looks up, “Ah, perfect.”
Following her gaze, I see Callie exiting the bathroom, heading towards the bar before, presumably, returning to the table. The woman beside me starts to move, but I put my hand on her arm, effectively stopping her.
I glance at Callie, now engaged in light conversation with Joe and I figure she’s a little way out of hearing range. Still, I lower my voice so that only Miss-Place-Name can hear me.
“Just because Callie and I aren’t public, does not mean I’ll tolerate people making a move on her.”
I don’t know what I’m saying, or if it was even semi-convincing, but I just felt like I had to say something. Even though I’m sure Callie is entirely straight, the thought of this woman hitting on her makes me feel more than queasy. I put it down to my instant dislike of the girl, and I tell myself that had it been anyone else, I would have allowed them to carry on.. Probably.
She’s looking at me curiously, almost disbelievingly.
“So you are a couple..? You and her?”
I decide my patented Dr Hahn ‘don’t-even-start’ death stare might be useful right about now.
“I’m sorry,” I mock, bitingly, “did you not understand me? I meant back the hell off.” I stress each word and she appears to concede, because she picks up her drink, casts a regretful glance towards Callie and stalks off.
I cheer a little inwardly and watch Callie finally return. I know Montana is probably watching us, so I place my hand on Callie’s arm as she sits. To Callie, it’s a gesture of friendliness. For her.. And perhaps a little for me.. It’s more.
“Hey, who was that?” Callie gestures vaguely to the direction of the woman. I glance round to see her quietly observing, and I glare back almost smugly as I answer Callie.
“Nobody important.”
My new adversary raises her glass to me, and I realise the game is on. And as I turn back to Callie’s strikingly russet eyes, I realise I’ve never wanted to win so badly.
Author: Saffinity (Jade)
Pairing: Callica, Callie/Erica
Rating: PG-13. No smut just yet, but potential for some later on.
Summary: Erica meets one Arizona Robbins for the first time.
Disclaimer: I'm just "borrowing" the characters and setting. I do not own anything except the way in which these are placed on the page. Entertainment only, no profit involved, etc. Promise :)
A/N: Ok, I seriously need your help on this. Feedback would be massively appreciated, also - whether or not you think I should continue with this, or leave it as this sort of.. Tame-one-shot-type. Also - If it was continued, as you will see, the time-line from Grey's has been altered slightly, as have some of the facts. Callica are friends to begin with here - just to save confusion :) Enjoy.
We’re at Joe’s yet again. It’s become a regular meeting place for us. It seems I can’t be friends with both Callie and my liver. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I mean, bars aren’t usually my scene, all that small talk and the false niceties with strangers. But there’s something about being here - or anywhere, if we’re being honest - with Callie that’s.. Fun. Not even the forced kind of fun where you laugh just to avoid awkwardness. No, it’s comfortable. We’re comfortable.
Callie’s been trying to convince me to dance for the better part of this evening, but I turn my nose up and take a drink before she can use the face on me. Never have I before met someone as subtly persuasive as Calliope Torres. That woman and that pout - deadly combination.
And she knows it.
It’s usually the tactic she uses to get me to try ‘new things’. Most of the time I don’t mind; Sunrise Yoga, visiting the Space Needle.. But once in a while she comes up with a truly awful idea. And I agree to it. Case in point, roller disco - I’ll say no more. Dancing while sober, to me, is the equivalent of falling on my 40 year old ass in front of a bunch of gangly youths.
She’s wearing this amazing jewelled green dress-top type with slim fitting jeans underneath. She looks incredible, and I’ve already clocked numerous guys drooling over her.
She tells me I’m looking good tonight, and somehow that feels better than when some guy offers to buy me a drink. He’s a nice enough guy; good looking, well dressed, but I politely decline, and return to Callie.
We spend most of the evening laughing at a table, because as much as she wants to dance, she refuses to leave me alone. That is, until one of her favourite songs comes on and she starts half-dragging my protesting carcass towards an empty space again.
She eventually gives up and dances off on her own. I watch her, because she’s still watching me and I grin when she shimmies her hips with a smirk. She’s an amazing dancer. Her body’s movement is making her top dance over her curves and, if possible, she looks even nicer.
I see some guy dance up behind her, as they often do, and she smiles civilly but moves out of his reach. The guy gets the point after Callie continues to ignore him, keeping her eyes in my direction. I feel my smile broaden inexplicably.
Because I’m pre-occupied, it takes me a few seconds to realise I’m no longer alone. I offer an apology, and look at the blonde curiously.
“Can I help you?”
“Hey, I’m Arizona.” The woman sits uninvited next to me, but I don’t say anything because I’m still clueless. She looks familiar, but I doubt we’ve ever met. She’s tall-ish, and her blonde curls are probably about the same length as my own. I stare at her expectantly, which, it seems, is enough to prompt her.
“So, the girl you’re with.. The super hot dancer.. Is she yours?”
Dakota, or Miami.. Whatever the hell her name was, takes a sip from the drink she’s holding and watches me. ‘super hot’? Is she checking Callie out? Better yet, is she asking if Callie and I are together? The realisation makes me want to laugh, but I don’t; I just sit. Evidently, my silence compels her again, because she adds,
“Your girlfriend.. Is she your girlfriend? I’ve been watching you both, and you’re throwing all kinds of signals. In the end, I figured I’d give up and ask..” She smiles, “So I’m asking.” She says, pointlessly.
She practically sings, rather than speaks. She seems annoyingly upbeat, in the kind of way that reminds me of pediatricians. It doesn’t play well against my largely cynical self. In fact, it makes me want to strangle a few dozen mockingbirds.
I can’t help quirking an eyebrow while my brain processes. She wants clearance.. To hit on Callie.. Wait a minute, what signals?!
“You want to know if Callie is free? So you can go hit on her?”
I’m stalling, and she knows it because her perfect little grin slips a little, as though dealing with a difficult child. It’s a look that pisses me off slightly, but mostly, I’m strangely glad that I annoy her. There’s a different song playing, so I glance around to see where Callie is. She’s heading towards the bathroom.
“What makes you think that Callie even swings that way?”
I wonder very briefly whether part of me is asking because I kind of want to know too, but I ignore the thought because Arizona smirks as though I’m not understanding something that’s overly simple - it agitates me again.
“I don’t recall asking if she was gay, thanks.. But even if she’s not, there’s a first time for everything.” She winks at me and then looks up, “Ah, perfect.”
Following her gaze, I see Callie exiting the bathroom, heading towards the bar before, presumably, returning to the table. The woman beside me starts to move, but I put my hand on her arm, effectively stopping her.
I glance at Callie, now engaged in light conversation with Joe and I figure she’s a little way out of hearing range. Still, I lower my voice so that only Miss-Place-Name can hear me.
“Just because Callie and I aren’t public, does not mean I’ll tolerate people making a move on her.”
I don’t know what I’m saying, or if it was even semi-convincing, but I just felt like I had to say something. Even though I’m sure Callie is entirely straight, the thought of this woman hitting on her makes me feel more than queasy. I put it down to my instant dislike of the girl, and I tell myself that had it been anyone else, I would have allowed them to carry on.. Probably.
She’s looking at me curiously, almost disbelievingly.
“So you are a couple..? You and her?”
I decide my patented Dr Hahn ‘don’t-even-start’ death stare might be useful right about now.
“I’m sorry,” I mock, bitingly, “did you not understand me? I meant back the hell off.” I stress each word and she appears to concede, because she picks up her drink, casts a regretful glance towards Callie and stalks off.
I cheer a little inwardly and watch Callie finally return. I know Montana is probably watching us, so I place my hand on Callie’s arm as she sits. To Callie, it’s a gesture of friendliness. For her.. And perhaps a little for me.. It’s more.
“Hey, who was that?” Callie gestures vaguely to the direction of the woman. I glance round to see her quietly observing, and I glare back almost smugly as I answer Callie.
“Nobody important.”
My new adversary raises her glass to me, and I realise the game is on. And as I turn back to Callie’s strikingly russet eyes, I realise I’ve never wanted to win so badly.