Begin Again | PG13 | Grey's Anatomy
Title: Begin Again
Prompt: Can a friendship be saved after years of falling apart?
Fandom: Callie/Addison, Grey’s Anatomy
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 2090
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I got this idea into my head and it wouldn’t leave. I miss the friendship between Callie and Addison, dammit! Hope you enjoy! All mistakes are my own. Comments are love.
-
Addison Montgomery nurses a mojito, puckering her lips at the sharp tang of lime that hits her tongue. It tastes terrible and she has half a mind to set it down and get a glass of wine instead, but she is drinking simply for the purpose of having the glass in her hand to squelch her fidgeting nerves. The cool condensation on the glass slips between her fingers and she focuses on this sensation instead of the one turning in the pit of her belly.
It’s ridiculous. Why should anyone be so nervous to see her best friend?
Perhaps, Addison muses, it’s because five years have passed since they’ve seen each other last, and one year since they actually spoke on the phone. Short text messages never really seemed to count. She wonders, not for the first time, if she can still even call Callie Torres her best friend.
She never thought it would take something as important as the retirement of Richard Weber (the real retirement - he means it this time) to reunite them. There had been so many possibilities and plans and promises. The vacations and the visits never did quite pan out. As hard as it had been for Addison to transition from Seattle to Los Angeles, losing her friendship seemed almost effortless. One day it was there and the next it wasn’t.
Addison sips again at the drink, scrunches her nose, and finally sets the glass down on the table. The rum and the lime are too much, though she wonders if the alcohol might give her the courage to approach the woman she’s been staring at for an hour. It has to happen; she cannot return to Los Angeles without looking Callie in the eye and discovering whether or not that connection is still there.
Before Addison is ready (she’d planned on coolly and collectedly making an appearance at Callie’s side), familiar dark eyes are focused on her. There are dozens of people milling about between them, passing back and forth as they mingle with colleagues and friends, but their eye contact does not break. For several minutes, Addison forgets how to breathe.
It’s there. The connection is there.
Addison stands and smoothes out the wrinkles in her expensive wrap dress. She watches from the corner of her eye as Callie begins to make her way through the crowd, stopping once to exchange words with a nurse (what was her name? Amanda? Allison?) before closing the distance between them.
“Addison Montgomery,” Callie says, her grin as wide and infectious as ever.
Addison cannot help but smile back. “Guilty.” They pause awkwardly, sizing each other up, before Addison adds, “You look great.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Addison tries not to blush at the compliment.
“What are we doing? Get over here,” Callie admonishes, engulfing Addison in a hug that immediately eases the tension caught between her shoulder blades.
Callie still smells like vanilla and spice and Callie. The rush of familiarity hits Addison so hard she feels tears prickling at her eyes, but she blinks them away.
“It’s really good to see you,” Addison admits when the embrace ends. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” Callie confesses guiltily. “C’mon…let’s grab a drink. There’s an empty table over in the corner with our name on it.”
Addison allows herself to be lead to the bar, where Callie orders them both glasses of wine. She is touched that Callie remembers that Addison prefers white to red. She takes a sip as she follows Callie to the corner table, silently rebuking herself for feeling like she needs the alcohol to steady her nerves. She doesn’t realize until she sits down that her knees have been shaking.
“So….wow,” Callie says with a grin. She tilts her head and slowly rakes her eyes over Addison’s face. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“It really is…to see you, I mean. I see me all the time.” Addison taps her finger against the stem of her wine glass. “I love your hair this length,” she finally adds.
Callie smiles and pats her shoulder-length curls. “I cut it on a whim ages ago.”
“Well, it looks great.”
“Thanks. So does yours. It’s darker than I remember it.”
“Yeah. You know. The shade changes to fit my mood.”
“Whatever mood this represents was a good choice. You should stay that way.”
Addison doesn’t tell her that she dyed her hair darker after the failure of another relationship. She feels oddly protective of this little detail, feeling as though Callie has to earn the right to such personal information.
There is a drawn out period of silence. They each nurse their drinks and when they make eye contact, they smile politely. Callie finally breaks the silence.
“Look at us. Once upon a time we were best friends. We used to be able to have whole conversations without saying a word.”
Addison nods. She remembers those days with a sharp pang of grief, wondering if they’ll ever regain that ease of friendship again. “Life’s pulled us in different directions,” she offers lamely.
“First my breakup with Arizona and then your relationship with Sam, and then my relationship with Lauren and your breakup, and then my job promotion and my breakup…”
“Perhaps love is the culprit here.”
“I’ve always thought it was really ridiculous when people blew off their friends for the sake of a new relationship. I never really thought I was the type to do that.”
“Same here. About myself, I mean. Not about you.”
Callie gazes at her levelly. “Did you ever resent me? For losing touch?”
“That’s a strong word.”
“But it fits, doesn’t it?”
Addison hopes that her response isn’t written all over her face. Much as she wishes that she could deny it, it’s the truth. She pauses for a moment and finally acquiesces. “I suppose it does.”
“I won’t lie…I did resent you a little. And then so much time had passed that it seemed…”
“Too late?”
“Yeah.”
They each sit back in their chairs, allowing the lingering words to sink in. Callie takes a large swallow of wine and then another. Addison simply traces the lip of her glass with her finger. She watches the long line of Callie’s bare throat as she swallows and the slow drag of her tongue across her bottom lip. Her eyes, so expressive and vibrant, are dull, darkened by sadness. It hurts Addison to look at her like this, knowing she’s at the root of her dismay.
“I guess I resented you a little too,” Addison admits, “mainly because it hurt that you weren’t there.”
“I always was there, Ads.”
“To a point.”
Callie arches an eyebrow. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Okay - take my breakup with Sam. It was…hard. Really hard, actually. I wanted to talk to you, to cry on your couch while we shared a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. We barely even talked about it. I called you and got a text in response.” Addison bites her lip and looks away. “I don’t really consider that being there for me.”
“You weren’t really there when Arizona and I broke up.”
“Because you never told me about it! I had to hear about it from Mark two months after it happened.”
“All right-so it’s my fault. I’m to blame for our friendship falling apart.”
Addison sighs. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know I could have called more. I know I could have come to visit. It just seemed that after a while, it would have only been me putting time and effort into the friendship. I didn’t want to do it on my own.”
“Ouch,” Callie says. There is an uncomfortable silence while Callie stares at her drink. “You know, I think I came to feel the same way. I had just gotten this amazing job promotion and started seeing someone who actually seemed to like me and wasn’t a chipper control freak, and you were just sort of on the outside of it all. Maybe it’s because you were mourning the loss of your relationship or whatever but…it felt like your emails and calls weren’t real. They seemed forced. So I stopped putting in the effort.”
Addison takes a drink then, wishing the alcohol could wash away the feelings of regret and shame. “We’re idiots.”
Callie lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “Yeah, we pretty much are.”
“So we had this weird miscommunication and instead of talking about it…”
“…We just let it get worse.”
Addison holds out her glass. “To our obstinate, self-induced loneliness.”
Callie clinks her glass against Addison’s. “Do you think we can start over? You know, not being idiots this time?”
Addison smiles. “Yeah, I think we can. But…”
“But what?”
“We need to actually put in the effort. And really, we need more face-to-face time.”
“You’re right. The texting thing doesn’t work out too well.” Callie peers at her wryly. “Especially since you are pretty terrible at typing on your phone.”
“I am not!”
“You kind of are. Maybe it’s the autocorrect…”
“Yes. That is it. It’s certainly not me.”
Callie rolls her eyes with a chuckle. “How long are you in town for?”
“Two more days.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Archfield. My Seattle home.”
“No you’re not. You’re staying with me. We have lots of catching up to do.”
Addison smiles and reaches for Callie’s hand as it rests on the table. She squeezes and is surprised when Callie rearranges their hands until their fingers are twined together. Her hand is soft-really soft-and warm. She stares at their joined hands, at her pale skin paired with Callie’s darker olive tones, at the chipped blue nail polish on Callie’s fingers, and at her own thumb that is unconsciously brushing against the back of Callie’s palm. She clears her throat. “My hands are clammy.”
“And freezing.”
Addison nods. “They usually are.” She moves to retract her hand and is doubly surprised when Callie holds her tighter.
“Not yet,” Callie whispers quietly.
Addison cannot deny that she doesn’t love the way Callie’s hand fits with her own, almost as if they were designed that way. She’s never done anything like this before-holding hands with a woman for no particular reason other than because she wants to. Her face flushes with heat and color.
“I still haven’t seen your new place. You never sent me the pictures you promised.”
“You’ll love it. It’s a real grown-up apartment. It even has a guest bedroom.”
“Mmm…the real question is whether or not that guest bedroom has a bed with sheets or if it’s just storage for all of your crap.”
“Hey!” Callie squeezes Addison’s hand. “Okay, a little of both. But there actually is a bed and it actually does have clean sheets. In the closet, actually, but it will take all of three minutes to make the bed.” They both laugh. “No slummin’ it on the couch for you.”
“Good. I’m too old for that sort of thing these days.”
“Right.” Callie glances over Addison’s shoulder, presumably towards the clock. “It’s getting late, grandma. Wanna head out? I don’t have Ben & Jerry’s but I do have Haagen Dazs.”
“I thought I wasn’t going to be slummin’ it?”
Callie rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Would you like to stop at the grocery store on the way back to my place then?”
“Well…we do have to stop by the Archfield so I can get my things.”
“I forgot how high-maintenance you are, Dr. Montgomery.”
“Get used to it. You’re stuck with me.”
Callie grins. “Good. Lemme say a quick goodbye to a few people and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Take your time.”
Callie squeezes Addison’s hand one more time before reluctantly releasing it. Addison watches her as she stands up and heads across the room, appreciatively eying the sway of her hips and the way she tosses a glance in her direction every few minutes as she says goodbye to her colleagues. It makes her feel warm inside and not a little bit nervous to know that their connection does still exist. Despite the time that has passed, it’s still intact. Their easy banter, the effortless laughs, and that underlying intensity are still thriving.
As she takes a final sip of her wine, Addison feels her nerves return once more, only this time her anxiety has nothing to do with the possibility of something coming to an end.
She is nervous because, after all this time, something may finally begin.
---
Prompt: Can a friendship be saved after years of falling apart?
Fandom: Callie/Addison, Grey’s Anatomy
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 2090
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I got this idea into my head and it wouldn’t leave. I miss the friendship between Callie and Addison, dammit! Hope you enjoy! All mistakes are my own. Comments are love.
-
Addison Montgomery nurses a mojito, puckering her lips at the sharp tang of lime that hits her tongue. It tastes terrible and she has half a mind to set it down and get a glass of wine instead, but she is drinking simply for the purpose of having the glass in her hand to squelch her fidgeting nerves. The cool condensation on the glass slips between her fingers and she focuses on this sensation instead of the one turning in the pit of her belly.
It’s ridiculous. Why should anyone be so nervous to see her best friend?
Perhaps, Addison muses, it’s because five years have passed since they’ve seen each other last, and one year since they actually spoke on the phone. Short text messages never really seemed to count. She wonders, not for the first time, if she can still even call Callie Torres her best friend.
She never thought it would take something as important as the retirement of Richard Weber (the real retirement - he means it this time) to reunite them. There had been so many possibilities and plans and promises. The vacations and the visits never did quite pan out. As hard as it had been for Addison to transition from Seattle to Los Angeles, losing her friendship seemed almost effortless. One day it was there and the next it wasn’t.
Addison sips again at the drink, scrunches her nose, and finally sets the glass down on the table. The rum and the lime are too much, though she wonders if the alcohol might give her the courage to approach the woman she’s been staring at for an hour. It has to happen; she cannot return to Los Angeles without looking Callie in the eye and discovering whether or not that connection is still there.
Before Addison is ready (she’d planned on coolly and collectedly making an appearance at Callie’s side), familiar dark eyes are focused on her. There are dozens of people milling about between them, passing back and forth as they mingle with colleagues and friends, but their eye contact does not break. For several minutes, Addison forgets how to breathe.
It’s there. The connection is there.
Addison stands and smoothes out the wrinkles in her expensive wrap dress. She watches from the corner of her eye as Callie begins to make her way through the crowd, stopping once to exchange words with a nurse (what was her name? Amanda? Allison?) before closing the distance between them.
“Addison Montgomery,” Callie says, her grin as wide and infectious as ever.
Addison cannot help but smile back. “Guilty.” They pause awkwardly, sizing each other up, before Addison adds, “You look great.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Addison tries not to blush at the compliment.
“What are we doing? Get over here,” Callie admonishes, engulfing Addison in a hug that immediately eases the tension caught between her shoulder blades.
Callie still smells like vanilla and spice and Callie. The rush of familiarity hits Addison so hard she feels tears prickling at her eyes, but she blinks them away.
“It’s really good to see you,” Addison admits when the embrace ends. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” Callie confesses guiltily. “C’mon…let’s grab a drink. There’s an empty table over in the corner with our name on it.”
Addison allows herself to be lead to the bar, where Callie orders them both glasses of wine. She is touched that Callie remembers that Addison prefers white to red. She takes a sip as she follows Callie to the corner table, silently rebuking herself for feeling like she needs the alcohol to steady her nerves. She doesn’t realize until she sits down that her knees have been shaking.
“So….wow,” Callie says with a grin. She tilts her head and slowly rakes her eyes over Addison’s face. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“It really is…to see you, I mean. I see me all the time.” Addison taps her finger against the stem of her wine glass. “I love your hair this length,” she finally adds.
Callie smiles and pats her shoulder-length curls. “I cut it on a whim ages ago.”
“Well, it looks great.”
“Thanks. So does yours. It’s darker than I remember it.”
“Yeah. You know. The shade changes to fit my mood.”
“Whatever mood this represents was a good choice. You should stay that way.”
Addison doesn’t tell her that she dyed her hair darker after the failure of another relationship. She feels oddly protective of this little detail, feeling as though Callie has to earn the right to such personal information.
There is a drawn out period of silence. They each nurse their drinks and when they make eye contact, they smile politely. Callie finally breaks the silence.
“Look at us. Once upon a time we were best friends. We used to be able to have whole conversations without saying a word.”
Addison nods. She remembers those days with a sharp pang of grief, wondering if they’ll ever regain that ease of friendship again. “Life’s pulled us in different directions,” she offers lamely.
“First my breakup with Arizona and then your relationship with Sam, and then my relationship with Lauren and your breakup, and then my job promotion and my breakup…”
“Perhaps love is the culprit here.”
“I’ve always thought it was really ridiculous when people blew off their friends for the sake of a new relationship. I never really thought I was the type to do that.”
“Same here. About myself, I mean. Not about you.”
Callie gazes at her levelly. “Did you ever resent me? For losing touch?”
“That’s a strong word.”
“But it fits, doesn’t it?”
Addison hopes that her response isn’t written all over her face. Much as she wishes that she could deny it, it’s the truth. She pauses for a moment and finally acquiesces. “I suppose it does.”
“I won’t lie…I did resent you a little. And then so much time had passed that it seemed…”
“Too late?”
“Yeah.”
They each sit back in their chairs, allowing the lingering words to sink in. Callie takes a large swallow of wine and then another. Addison simply traces the lip of her glass with her finger. She watches the long line of Callie’s bare throat as she swallows and the slow drag of her tongue across her bottom lip. Her eyes, so expressive and vibrant, are dull, darkened by sadness. It hurts Addison to look at her like this, knowing she’s at the root of her dismay.
“I guess I resented you a little too,” Addison admits, “mainly because it hurt that you weren’t there.”
“I always was there, Ads.”
“To a point.”
Callie arches an eyebrow. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Okay - take my breakup with Sam. It was…hard. Really hard, actually. I wanted to talk to you, to cry on your couch while we shared a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. We barely even talked about it. I called you and got a text in response.” Addison bites her lip and looks away. “I don’t really consider that being there for me.”
“You weren’t really there when Arizona and I broke up.”
“Because you never told me about it! I had to hear about it from Mark two months after it happened.”
“All right-so it’s my fault. I’m to blame for our friendship falling apart.”
Addison sighs. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know I could have called more. I know I could have come to visit. It just seemed that after a while, it would have only been me putting time and effort into the friendship. I didn’t want to do it on my own.”
“Ouch,” Callie says. There is an uncomfortable silence while Callie stares at her drink. “You know, I think I came to feel the same way. I had just gotten this amazing job promotion and started seeing someone who actually seemed to like me and wasn’t a chipper control freak, and you were just sort of on the outside of it all. Maybe it’s because you were mourning the loss of your relationship or whatever but…it felt like your emails and calls weren’t real. They seemed forced. So I stopped putting in the effort.”
Addison takes a drink then, wishing the alcohol could wash away the feelings of regret and shame. “We’re idiots.”
Callie lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “Yeah, we pretty much are.”
“So we had this weird miscommunication and instead of talking about it…”
“…We just let it get worse.”
Addison holds out her glass. “To our obstinate, self-induced loneliness.”
Callie clinks her glass against Addison’s. “Do you think we can start over? You know, not being idiots this time?”
Addison smiles. “Yeah, I think we can. But…”
“But what?”
“We need to actually put in the effort. And really, we need more face-to-face time.”
“You’re right. The texting thing doesn’t work out too well.” Callie peers at her wryly. “Especially since you are pretty terrible at typing on your phone.”
“I am not!”
“You kind of are. Maybe it’s the autocorrect…”
“Yes. That is it. It’s certainly not me.”
Callie rolls her eyes with a chuckle. “How long are you in town for?”
“Two more days.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Archfield. My Seattle home.”
“No you’re not. You’re staying with me. We have lots of catching up to do.”
Addison smiles and reaches for Callie’s hand as it rests on the table. She squeezes and is surprised when Callie rearranges their hands until their fingers are twined together. Her hand is soft-really soft-and warm. She stares at their joined hands, at her pale skin paired with Callie’s darker olive tones, at the chipped blue nail polish on Callie’s fingers, and at her own thumb that is unconsciously brushing against the back of Callie’s palm. She clears her throat. “My hands are clammy.”
“And freezing.”
Addison nods. “They usually are.” She moves to retract her hand and is doubly surprised when Callie holds her tighter.
“Not yet,” Callie whispers quietly.
Addison cannot deny that she doesn’t love the way Callie’s hand fits with her own, almost as if they were designed that way. She’s never done anything like this before-holding hands with a woman for no particular reason other than because she wants to. Her face flushes with heat and color.
“I still haven’t seen your new place. You never sent me the pictures you promised.”
“You’ll love it. It’s a real grown-up apartment. It even has a guest bedroom.”
“Mmm…the real question is whether or not that guest bedroom has a bed with sheets or if it’s just storage for all of your crap.”
“Hey!” Callie squeezes Addison’s hand. “Okay, a little of both. But there actually is a bed and it actually does have clean sheets. In the closet, actually, but it will take all of three minutes to make the bed.” They both laugh. “No slummin’ it on the couch for you.”
“Good. I’m too old for that sort of thing these days.”
“Right.” Callie glances over Addison’s shoulder, presumably towards the clock. “It’s getting late, grandma. Wanna head out? I don’t have Ben & Jerry’s but I do have Haagen Dazs.”
“I thought I wasn’t going to be slummin’ it?”
Callie rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Would you like to stop at the grocery store on the way back to my place then?”
“Well…we do have to stop by the Archfield so I can get my things.”
“I forgot how high-maintenance you are, Dr. Montgomery.”
“Get used to it. You’re stuck with me.”
Callie grins. “Good. Lemme say a quick goodbye to a few people and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Take your time.”
Callie squeezes Addison’s hand one more time before reluctantly releasing it. Addison watches her as she stands up and heads across the room, appreciatively eying the sway of her hips and the way she tosses a glance in her direction every few minutes as she says goodbye to her colleagues. It makes her feel warm inside and not a little bit nervous to know that their connection does still exist. Despite the time that has passed, it’s still intact. Their easy banter, the effortless laughs, and that underlying intensity are still thriving.
As she takes a final sip of her wine, Addison feels her nerves return once more, only this time her anxiety has nothing to do with the possibility of something coming to an end.
She is nervous because, after all this time, something may finally begin.
---