A/N: This story is an old one (that I've got one more chapter of), so I just decided to bring it here. The story was based on Brown Sugar a movie starring Taye Diggs and was originally intended it to be two parts, but now it's on to being six chapters. I do hope it's enjoyable for those who haven't already read it.
Bright lights, festive decorations, and easy laughter filled the cabin, setting a strange uneasiness in the pit of Callie's stomach. Never had it crossed her mind that this crowd would function as well as it did now, especially after all the misery they'd gone through in the past months, both individually and together. Finding the winter holiday cheer was almost intolerable and smiling faces still felt like an unspeakable betrayal. But as her eyes swept over the room, she realized what was happening. It was the continuance of life, the one wish George O'Malley would have verbalized for them had he been physically able to.
As expected the months following his funeral brought changes in everyone's lives. In the wake of George's death, Meredith and Derek finally made that last push, stepping over the threshold and making what they had legally binding; Cristina and Owen found solace in each other, fighting through his episodes and her coming fears, Alex and Izzie held onto life together, planning an astounding future filled with birthdays, anniversaries, and over the top Thanksgiving dinners; and even Mark and Lexie stumbled through the tragedy, though not as gracefully as others. He fought tooth and nail for their reconciliation while she resisted, until she finally surrendered to his cajoling and moved into his home.
But not everyone's turns were as joyful, Miranda went head on through divorce, almost losing her son in the process; the combination of his worry for the hospital and the sudden loss and sickness of two surrogate children caused a lapse in Chief Webber's health, forcing him to surrender his coveted hospital position for the time being; and for Callie the same story replayed itself. She was never completely able to leave everything that'd happened behind her, even with the help of her girlfriend's comforting arms. Their relationship was strong on the surface, but floundering at the seams and then one day, it was over, gone on small disputes that started on Callie's insecurities and ended with the resurgence of Arizona's reservations. Then, three months later as the unspoken rule called for, the cheerful Peds Attending left Seattle Grace without so much as a good bye.
"Stop thinking."
Mark's hoarse demand pulled Callie from her thoughts, dragging her back into the Denver cabin with the rest of the selected guests.
"I wasn't thinking," she shot back, slumping against the table behind them.
"Bullshit." He retorted, mimicking her actions and dropping himself beside her, offering one of the two beers he held. "I brought everyone here to relax and have fun."
"I'm sure there was some ulterior motive to your generosity," Callie snorted, taking a sip from the bottle he'd handed her.
"You're not wrong," he grinned back, taking a swig of his own beverage as she cocked an interested brow. He chuckled when she deftly crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him expectantly. Without word, Mark grasped her arm and dragged her through the kitchen entrance. "I wanted to bring you along when I picked it out," he started, putting his drink on the counter before rummaging through his pocket. "But I couldn't hold out anymore."
"Pick wh-" Callie stopped mid question and took a hard swallow, clearing any remnants of alcohol from her mouth as her eyes rested on Mark's hand, holding up a small diamond ring. "Is that a…I mean is-"
"That's the response I hope to get from her too," he laughed, dropping his chin to admire the engagement ring he'd chosen. Sleek and simple, much like the woman it was for.
"Aren't you still mulling over your whole break up, semi-break up, whatever thing?"
Mark snapped the box shut, setting it comfortably in his front pocket. "Yeah," he paused running fingers through his gray locks, "but everybody has their problems. I'm not letting this one get away Torres."
There was an unexplainable seriousness and gleeful manner that dripped over him, one that wouldn't wash over her. Sharp pangs slipped through her stomach with little difficulty as she watched him smile; she pinned it on jealousy, wanting someone for herself, wanting her own strain of happiness.
"That's good." She spoke quietly, wiping nonexistent flecks of dirt from his chest. She felt an obligation to show some semblance of support. She owed him that much, he had been her pillar through every tough turn in the past few years, her shoulder to cry on whether or not she gave explanation.
"Good." He grinned reaching around Callie to grab his beer, chugging the drink quickly in an obvious attempt to build up nerve. "I better get out there," he breathed happily, dumping his empty bottle in the trash before turning back and lifting Callie's chin with his thumb. His eyes bore into hers, revealing every bit of concern he held for her. "No more thinking."
Only after her signature eye roll and reluctant nod, did he release his hold. He looked back over his shoulder, gently patting his pocket as she pushed him toward the doorway.
Minutes later, shocked gasps and happy squeals shot through the room.
And those sharp pangs unexpectedly found their way to her heart.
"What about this one?" Mark held up a pair of overly elaborate champagne glasses with gold trimming and large round bases. Callie furrowed her brows and shook her head in negation. "These?" He held up the next pair which presented the same image except with a flute silhouette. Callie again shook her head in response and Mark sighed. "How can picking champagne glasses be this hard?"
"I have a better question. Why am I here picking them out with you instead of Grey?"
Callie grumbled, looking at the delicately decorated tea sets over Mark's shoulder.
"She wanted me to pick them." He responded turning beside her, facing the small trinkets she'd set her sights on.
"Which still doesn't explain why I'm here," Callie retorted with an eye roll, running a finger along one of the painted tea pots in front of her.
"I needed to bring someone with good taste," he mumbled back.
"Shepherd has better taste and more experience when it comes to this stuff," she snorted quietly.
"Two men shopping for champagne glasses, two grown men shopping for champagne glasses…" He glanced over at her, checking if what he was getting at registered. "Together. Two grown men shopp-"
"I get it," she interrupted raising a hand to stop him, "I'm here to preserve your manhood." She watched as he raised another glass, plastered with more frills than any of the others they'd previously seen. "Or what's left of it."
"Not funny," Mark glared, placing the cup back in its spot. She smirked up at him, suddenly breaking into a fit of snickers.
"When's the big day?"
Both Mark and Callie coughed relieving themselves of the final flits of laughter before swirling around. Before them stood a cheerful saleswoman grinning with her arms folded politely behind her back.
"Huh?"
"The wedding, when is your wedding?" She smiled again, "it might help to narrow down your choices."
"Oh," Callie's mouth opened in realization, then dropped into a small smirk. "No, we're not…we're just friends."
"I'm so sorry," she giggled, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink, fully displaying her embarrassment, "it's just that you two looked so comfortable and happy and so in lo-"
"No," Callie chortled, cutting the woman off before she could finish her observation, "we're just close."
"My apologies," the woman offered, swiftly backing into her place behind the counter.
Callie continued laughing, shoving strands of black hair behind her ear, as she rounded corner. They resumed searching the store in silence, a tiny bit of tension floating between them.
"No," Mark finally spoke, his voice mimicking hers, "we're just close."
"What?" Callie shot back, annoyed with his mocking tone.
"You didn't have to say it like that."
"Like what?" Her brows knitted.
"Like someone thinking we're engaged is the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard. What about these?" He asked, holding up two more glasses, purposely shifting back conversation back to their primary reason for being in the store.
"Yeah," she nodded, rolling her eyes at his selection and explanation for offense.
"Hungry?"
Aware that he was ready to let whatever fight building drop, Callie raised a firm brow and crossed her arms.
"You're buying."
"I thought the alcohol would be worth it, but I'm not sure I can take much more of this." Cristina groused, sidling alongside Callie, watching as Lexie was restlessly coddled by her sister and a few other family members. "Bridal showers are torture."
"Yours wasn't bad."
"That's because there was four of us and enough booze to have you tolerating Blondie's presence."
"Mhmm," Callie chuckled lightly, her eyes still lingering over the set-up. Pink ribbons hanging graciously down the walls, over the door entrances, from the ceiling; giving the appearance of a nightmarishly decorated Valentine's Day middle school dance rather than the elegant party it was meant to be.
"So…Torres," Cristina started, hunching closer before tossing casually, "you can step in anytime."
"Okay," Callie inched into the conversation, unsure of its intent. "I didn't think the accurate recount of your bridal shower called for anything more than a nod."
"You know what I'm talking about," Cristina scoffed, downing a shot of tequila. Seconds later, she lithely snaked her arm behind her back, reaching for the commandeered bottle she'd been enjoying. "Sloan's song of choice isn't exactly common knowledge." She added, pouring another shot and grabbing one for her too sober companion. "You had all the right answers to that stupid 'do you know who you're marrying' game they played earlier. It's disgusting."
"We're friends," Callie offered simply, brushing off growing insinuations the young resident may have been conjuring.
"Meredith's my friend, doesn't mean I know or care about what they called her in high school," Cristina answered dryly, shoving the glass into Callie's chest, silently demanding she drop the liquid with her.
"You and Meredith aren't exactly poster children for normal friendships," Callie snorted then downed her shot, letting the drink burn through before it cursed its way into her body.
"So we're not normal," Cristina shrugged casually. "I bet fucking your friend a couple of hundred times isn't either." She smirked triumphantly, taking satisfaction in the vision of Callie squirming, eyes wide and darting aimlessly around the room. "Don't tell me you've never thought this whole wedding thing was a sham, that you've never found yourself wondering why he's taking the plunge with Three," she grinned, relaxing in her current position of power, "and not shacking up with you."
Callie noticeably sunk, feeling the weight of accusing eyes drawn at her. Cristina's brash curiosity only pinched the surface of her thoughts. More often than not Callie found herself wondering what the turn out might have been had she and Mark entered the kind of relationship that didn't involve third parties or needy sex.
"Oh, oh that's my cue," Cristina perked suddenly, looking off toward a tight smiled Meredith. "She pulled out the 'save me' face."
She fled quickly, leaving Callie without a chance for rebuttal and a surge of thoughts that'd be deemed inappropriate for the very close, very female friend of a soon to be married man.
"I'm getting married."
Callie watched as Mark paced in front of her, his hands traveling in erratic lines through his gray hair. He'd been in the same volatile state for a good ten minutes, not letting her get a word or movement in between his unremitting questions and impulsive flinches.
"What the fuck am I thinking? What the fuck was I thinking when I asked her?"
Her lips quirked at that one, she'd asked herself that a couple of times, justifying her interest with friendship concern.
"How am I going to do this? She hates the Yankees!" Mark declared, slightly disgusted at the revelation.
"I like the Mariners," Callie chuckled, rubbing a hand across one of her knees as she sat on the couch. She'd deposited herself there as soon as his tirade had begun, knowing from experience how long it could potentially last.
"That's only because you know nothing about baseball," he smirked at her momentarily before continuing his rant. "She snores like a fucking trucker."
Her mouth quivered while she desperately held her lips shut, keeping from laughing at his comparison.
"And she hates apples. Who hates apples?"
"Mark…" Callie sighed heavily, moving to stand directly in front of him, purposefully stopping his anxious strides.
"Do all men go through this?" He asked, looking straight at her, holding some strange hope that she'd have his answer.
"I have no idea. You know what might help? Asking a man," she responded, sharply adding an eye roll for emphasis. Guilt rose watching as it washed over him, slowly calming nerves.
"Marriage is huge," he spoke again, stepping closer and dropping his hands on her hips as he did so. "Do you think I'll be good at it?"
Callie hated self-doubting Mark. He showed up more often than he could control now. It was a rarity for the boastful plastic surgeon to allow anything to get the better of him and make him feel inferior. Drawing closer, she lifted her arms and rested them on his shoulders, tenderly cradling his head between her forearms. One hand pulled back, scratching at the slight stubble running along his cheek before kissing it lightly.
"I think so."
It hit instantly, there was no time wasted between her pulling away and him drawing her closer. It started in a hungry clawing fashion, the way it always had, where mouths did all the work and touching was left until needed. But it was his hands that did the bidding, as the intensity simmered, the intimacy grew and Mark's hands moved from her hips. One explored her body, sinking slowly over her hips, rising to graze the underside of her breast, dropping back to the starting curve of her ass, as the other pushed up and sunk into her dark waves, caressing her gently as his fingers ran through her silky mane. She followed the example, letting fingers glide along his chest, memories of how it felt against hers inking their way back into her mind, while the other hand tangled itself in his short locks.
Before long it was over. Callie pushed him away as his hands began skimming the hem of her t-shirt, lifting it inch by inch, forcing more skin under his palm. She wouldn't let him be that guy again; a minor lapse in judgment wasn't going to jeopardize what seemed to make him so happy.
"Aren't there naked women you should be ogling right now?" She asked, smirking as she stepped away from him, breaking the awkward silence that hovered in the air surrounding them.
"Yeah," he chuckled, scratching behind his ear, shooting his eyes at random spots of her apartment using any familiar object to yank his attention from his heavy breathing and pounding heart.
The silence swallowed them again, holding each in a quiet stupor.
"Shepherd's going to have your ass if you're not there."
"He wishes," Mark grinned, easily sliding back into the cocky persona he'd built over his lifetime. "Speak of the devil," he smiled wryly, dropping a hand in his pocket to stop the ringing phone. "I guess I better head out. You sure you don't want to tag along? I know you like your share of naked women."
"That I do," Callie snickered, "but I like my sleep too." Off in the distance, Callie's phone vibrated against the tile countertop in the kitchen and Mark groaned in annoyance. "Get out of here before Shepherd and his band of merry men ruin my night."
Mark laughed while she playfully shoved him through the door.
"Get some sleep," he yelled as she successfully ran him out into the walk way leading to her home.
Callie shut the door behind her, turning each lock carefully, securing her place, doing anything that would help avoid the bedroom. Because tonight, getting some sleep would be easier said than done.
"Say something," Cristina leaned over Owen, whispering harshly at Callie. "This is the time where you step in Torres. This is your cheesy cliché moment. This is where you stand up, say you object and-"
"Cristina shut up!" She snapped sharply, catching the unwanted attention of a few guests.
"Speak! I demand you speak up!"
"And say what?" Callie's arms became animated, drawing more onlookers.
"I don't know, how about, 'Hey McSteamy I'm in love with you'! That might turn some heads." Cristina draped with ease over her quietly grunting boyfriend to whisper into Callie's ear.
"Why do you care?" Callie charged in a hushed tone.
"I don't care!" She responded quickly, pulling on an indifferent mask to hide any concern she wielded for her former housemate and unlikely confidante. "I'm going to say something."
"No you're not!" Callie struggled, grabbing Cristina's hands and clasping them in hers before she could raise them.
"Yes. I. Am." Cristina fought against her, physically dragging her across the seat, surprising her with brute strength.
"No. You. Are. Not!"
"Ladies," Owen gulped, wedged between them, pointing to the quieted crowd interestedly watching their childish battle. Callie looked around the room nervously, then up to the Minister, who gazed down at her expectantly, to Lexie, who appeared a little more than miffed, and at Mark, whose confusion and curiosity merged into one baffled expression.
"May we continue? Or is there something you'd like to say?" The Minister spoke clearly, directing his question at her.
"No, I'm…we're very sorry. Please continue," she finished, ignoring Cristina's audible, 'I'm not' and sat back, trying to drown out the gossip brewing behind her.
Soon the ceremony was over and the crowd stood, cheering and smiling as the newlyweds stomped happily down the aisle. She clapped, gracing Mark with a tiny smile as he turned toward her, keeping his eyes locked to hers for as long as he could while people pushed him through the church doors.
And with that it was over. She mentally closed that chapter of her life, justified in knowing that it was unnecessary to dwell anything that remained unwritten.