(no subject)
Title: A Skeleton of Something More
Pairing(s): Mark/Callie/Arizona
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After the baby, after the tornado, Callie worries.
A/N: Cleansing the palate so I can work on a prompt (hey-o!) and actually deliver something lighter. For now, the darker end of the spectrum. Enjoy-
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A Skeleton of Something More
- Sleeping At Last
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Callie spends a lot of time waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop- for Mark to have a breakdown and run out with some tramp, for Arizona to get fed up with the screaming in the middle of her restful slumber. But they don't. Pressing through the exhausting first two months of nothing but feeding and sleeping and changing and then changing again.
And Baby Torres-Sloan-Robbins (dubbed “The Devil” by Cristina Yang) has a very healthy set of lungs, or so she's experienced.
So it's surprising. To find Mark in her and Arizona's room at three in the morning whispering nonsense and gibberish to his son because despite living only a hallway away, he likes to sleep on the couch. He wants to be closer. He can't seem to get enough. So even when he puts a diaper on backwards and can't find the other matching sock to save his life, it remains endearing. But watching his fascination, his wonder, makes Callie's stomach turn.
Because in six, seven months or two years, none of this will be so new. The routine will be long since established, there will be precedent. And then maybe Mark gets bored. Then maybe Mark runs out on them to be with whatever he can find, whatever doesn't have visible baggage.
And Arizona. Arizona, out of the goodness of her heart, her soul, and what is likely a strong link to sainthood (Callie suspects) keeps them all steady. She cooks breakfast, she washes laundry before it can pile up, before either of the other two can call for a housekeeper. She helped assemble the crib, the swing, the bassinet, all with Mark, all without killing him. Arizona is the rock. She can put their son to sleep faster than anyone else, and even when she is watching her back, trying not to overstep (something they all agreed can't honestly be done) she has the most amazing connection with the tiny infant that is now running the show.
Sometimes Callie thinks it should be Arizona and Mark. They make the perfect tag team...and she makes...a third. The cooing and awing she willing takes a part in is always followed by strained looks at her life mates to ascertain who is feeling left out, who is feeling unequal. Callie is no good at bath time, that's Mark's department, and Arizona generally gets all of the snuggle time, which leaves Callie with a lot of eating, and a lot of crying.
And Callie believes that it will get old. For everyone.
But mostly she's scared that it will be her that screws everything up this time. That she'll be the thief in the night, stealing her child away from two people who love him endlessly and adore his every squirm.
Once the sparkle wears off, once the novelty of being a three person parenting group begins to grate, one of them will bolt. Because that's what they do, it's who they are. All she can do is hope against hope that the sleeping baby across the room, wrapped up in a fuzzy blue blanket against Mark's chest (a not-so manly cooking show playing on a distant television) will be the glue that makes everything tolerable, that keeps them together.
And just as she begins to close her own eyes, giving Mark a confident nod of approval, she realizes the implications and burdens she would willingly place on her own child.
And then her heart is thumping too loud for sleep.
But there's no laundry piled sky high, no bottles lined up next to the sink, no chores to busy her idle hands and overworked mind.
All she has is time- to wait, for the probable inevitability of fireworks.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Pairing(s): Mark/Callie/Arizona
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After the baby, after the tornado, Callie worries.
A/N: Cleansing the palate so I can work on a prompt (hey-o!) and actually deliver something lighter. For now, the darker end of the spectrum. Enjoy-
~-~-~-~-~-~-~
A Skeleton of Something More
- Sleeping At Last
~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Callie spends a lot of time waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop- for Mark to have a breakdown and run out with some tramp, for Arizona to get fed up with the screaming in the middle of her restful slumber. But they don't. Pressing through the exhausting first two months of nothing but feeding and sleeping and changing and then changing again.
And Baby Torres-Sloan-Robbins (dubbed “The Devil” by Cristina Yang) has a very healthy set of lungs, or so she's experienced.
So it's surprising. To find Mark in her and Arizona's room at three in the morning whispering nonsense and gibberish to his son because despite living only a hallway away, he likes to sleep on the couch. He wants to be closer. He can't seem to get enough. So even when he puts a diaper on backwards and can't find the other matching sock to save his life, it remains endearing. But watching his fascination, his wonder, makes Callie's stomach turn.
Because in six, seven months or two years, none of this will be so new. The routine will be long since established, there will be precedent. And then maybe Mark gets bored. Then maybe Mark runs out on them to be with whatever he can find, whatever doesn't have visible baggage.
And Arizona. Arizona, out of the goodness of her heart, her soul, and what is likely a strong link to sainthood (Callie suspects) keeps them all steady. She cooks breakfast, she washes laundry before it can pile up, before either of the other two can call for a housekeeper. She helped assemble the crib, the swing, the bassinet, all with Mark, all without killing him. Arizona is the rock. She can put their son to sleep faster than anyone else, and even when she is watching her back, trying not to overstep (something they all agreed can't honestly be done) she has the most amazing connection with the tiny infant that is now running the show.
Sometimes Callie thinks it should be Arizona and Mark. They make the perfect tag team...and she makes...a third. The cooing and awing she willing takes a part in is always followed by strained looks at her life mates to ascertain who is feeling left out, who is feeling unequal. Callie is no good at bath time, that's Mark's department, and Arizona generally gets all of the snuggle time, which leaves Callie with a lot of eating, and a lot of crying.
And Callie believes that it will get old. For everyone.
But mostly she's scared that it will be her that screws everything up this time. That she'll be the thief in the night, stealing her child away from two people who love him endlessly and adore his every squirm.
Once the sparkle wears off, once the novelty of being a three person parenting group begins to grate, one of them will bolt. Because that's what they do, it's who they are. All she can do is hope against hope that the sleeping baby across the room, wrapped up in a fuzzy blue blanket against Mark's chest (a not-so manly cooking show playing on a distant television) will be the glue that makes everything tolerable, that keeps them together.
And just as she begins to close her own eyes, giving Mark a confident nod of approval, she realizes the implications and burdens she would willingly place on her own child.
And then her heart is thumping too loud for sleep.
But there's no laundry piled sky high, no bottles lined up next to the sink, no chores to busy her idle hands and overworked mind.
All she has is time- to wait, for the probable inevitability of fireworks.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~