Here was the thing: Callie knew it was coming.

She saw the way he looked at her, the lingering gazes, the look he got in his eye. It was different than it was at the start – or, maybe he had always looked at her that way, maybe she was only allowing herself to see it now that Talya was out of the picture – it was... more intense. Like, he was seeing her for the first time, every time.

It made her sick with herself.

The reason for that? Butterflies. Fucking butterflies; they fluttered their little wings and flew around her tummy like it was their home. It might as well have been, with how often they seemed to be there lately.

But Callie was Callie. She didn't do dresses or Princes or butterflies or anything else mushy and gushy that most little girls dreamed about – the fairytale first kiss, the fairytale boyfriend, and the most popular: the fairytale wedding. Her life had been anything but a fairytale.

But somehow, her stomach seemed to forget that every time Brandon was around. Not just her stomach, either. Her lungs always seemed to forget how to breathe, her palms perspired desperately, and her eyes.

Her eyes could never meet his.

It was as if she feared he'd take one look at her and see right through her, see everything she was thinking, but more importantly everything she was feeling.

She was Callie, and she was strong and tough and bad-fucking-ass. But she was also vulnerable and scared.

So she wasn't surprised when Brandon freaked out the second she got home from her date with Wyatt – it had gone terribly, a house party (did she mention how the aforementioned home was Wyatt's foreclosed childhood home?) which had gotten out of control and ended with Wyatt spilling his guts about how angry and upset he was with his family, with himself. How much he yearned for the past.

Callie could understand that. Often, she felt the same. A life with no struggles, a life where her mom was still alive and her father never walked away from her and Jude – that was the life she'd always wanted, but Callie also understood she couldn't change anything, only try and make things as best as she could for Jude.

Needless to say, it wasn't the most romantic date she'd ever been on, but that was okay because even though nothing romantic had come out of it, something even better had – a friendship

"How was your date?"

Alright, maybe she'd been a little surprised. Surprised enough to let out a tiny shriek. But only because she hadn't seen him sitting there on the porch – waiting for her? She dared not to hope, but instead... made an educated guess.

"Um," she muttered, moving a hand up to tangle into her curls – yes, she'd done her hair for this date. Whatever. No big deal. "Alright," she answered vaguely, biting her lip as Brandon stood up.

"You shouldn't date him." He said, again, for the fifteenth time. At first, she hadn't understood why he cared so much. He had a girlfriend, a gorgeous girlfriend, and yes Callie was pretty, but not Talya pretty. She'd never be Talya pretty, because Talya would be prom queen one day and Callie would be the girl in jeans and chucks because she'd rather be comfortable – no, actually, scratch that. Callie wasn't going to prom. The thought in itself made her want to laugh.

Her? At prom? Hahaha. No.

But now wasn't the time to think about Prom or stereo types or anything of that matter. Because he was looking at her again, with those eyes and that deep look. She felt naked underneath his gaze.

(Maybe, if she were being honest, she'd tell you that his jealousy thrilled her. That she'd only gone on this second date with Wyatt (the first one being the twins' birthday) because she knew it'd upset him. But she was Callie, and Callie knew how to lie to save her skin.)

"Why?" Her voice wasn't harsh or strong like she'd wanted it to be, like she had planned for it to be. It didn't break either, nor was it desperate for answers she already held inside of her pocket. If only she'd pull them out and really look at them, really understand all the clues she'd been given. Yes, she knew, she understood – Brandon was jealous of Wyatt – but she didn't dig deeper. She didn't think about what that meant.

Until now.

Her voice was calm, level. She wanted an answer that made sense. Give me a logical answer, she thought. Tell me something that makes sense. Because nothing in my head, nothing, makes any sense right now.

Brandon looked at her for a long minute, before blowing out air. She thought about all that he had told her about Wyatt, about the reputation the boy held, about how he was a bad boy and she shouldn't be with that type. About how he would break her heart. It was funny, she thought.

Wyatt would have to have her heart to break it.

"I don't want you to date him, Callie."

She blinked, and waited, and her lungs was doing that thing again where they forgot to take in air, and her heart was pounding against her ribs, her palms sweaty and shaking. Her face, though, her face was straight – calm. She held herself together, despite feeling like she might fall apart and right into his arms in that moment.

"Why." She demanded again, a harsh whisper.

"Because I don't want you to date anyone."

And it was too much – it all felt like every dream she'd held as a child. She was stupid and naïve and though her family would always be there and she would grow up wearing pink dresses and home-coming crowns and then one day she'd trade her crown for a veil and marry a gorgeous prince.

But she wasn't that girl anymore and this was no longer her dream.

"Don't-"

"Callie," Brandon started, stepping closer to her.

She was eight again, scared with a four year old hiding behind her knees – a four year old she had no idea what to do with; all she knew for sure was that she had to protect him – staring up into her very first foster mother's face.

She cut him off. "No. Don't. It's too- too." She struggled for words, eyes on her shoes. She couldn't look at him. He would see it, see it all. She couldn't let him see any of it. "It's like something out of a fairytale!" She blurted and tried not to feel stupid as Brandon stared at her with bemusement. Callie's cheeks flushed, but she pushed on before she could get caught up in embarrassment. "I'm not that girl. I was, once, maybe. Wishing for stupid princes and pretty dresses, but I'm not her anymore and I'm not good at this. At stability. At fairy tales. So, whatever you're about to say, please, don't say it. Bite your tongue. Because this isn't going to work. I'm going to fuck it all up. It'll be great at first, but then I'll do something, or I'll push you away. And then it'll be weird and awkward. And then there's the whole Foster-siblings dating rule. And I just...

"I'm not your Cinderella, Brandon. I'm like... the Anti-Cinderella."

Brandon shook his head. "And what? I'm some prince charming? Hardly! I've met nails smoother than I am. It doesn't matter, Callie. None of it matters to me. I don't want cinderella. I'd much prefer the anti." And then, before Callie could blink or protest of say anything, he was stepping forward and cupping her face. His lips crashed down onto hers a second later.

It was only then, as Brandon kissed her, that she kind of realized she'd never been alone. Maybe she couldn't understand or sympathize with Wyatt. She'd always had someone – Jude – and now she had plenty of someones. The Fosters.

She was thankful for that. Very much so.

And maybe it was her realizing this, realizing how different things were this time. Realizing that this would be her last foster family maybe ever. No more moving, no more drunk foster moms, no more pervy foster fathers. No more families who didn't care. She'd found one that did, and she was lucky.

Anyone who could find that – blood related or not, was lucky.

Callie was lucky.

So she didn't push him away. One day her luck would run out. She should take advantage while she still held onto it. So she brought herself up onto her tip-toes, fingers locking into his soft hair, running through it, tugging gently on the strands like she'd found herself imagining briefly when she daydreamed. His lips were soft, but rough against hers at the same time, and she found herself being pushed against the brick outside wall of his – their – house.

His fingers grasped her hips, hers slid down from his hair to his neck, then his collar, which she tugged on gently, pulling him even closer to her. His body covered hers, pressed against hers completely, not an inch of space left between them.

There was still plenty to work out and worry about, but neither seemed all that worried about doing all of that right now. Talking was way over-rated anyway. They'd work all of this out later.

And anyway, they may not have been anything out of a fairytale, but that didn't mean they couldn't have their own sort of happily ever after – no weddings involved.

(Not yet, anyway.)

x

notes: idk what this is, but after all of the reviews (not to mention the favorites, jfc, thank you guys so much 3) on my first brandon/callie, i knew i had to write another.

hope you enjoyed this one just as much as the last. :)

xx