Lead Us Not Into Temptation

By: 1000th Ghost

*This story is dedicated to my mom for being for Mallie and against Calzona with me, for thinking up parts of this story (including "How can you go gay after being with McSteamy?"), and for asking me to write this story in the first place.*

Step, step, sway, step. She danced with her daddy at her wedding because he had come back. Because he had always wanted to dance with his daughter at her wedding.

"If this was a real wedding," a voice spoke in her head, so clearly that she glanced over her shoulder to see if someone had really spoken the words.

There was no one near enough to have said it, but her eyes settled on Mark, beaming at her from the edge of the dance floor.

For a moment, she allowed herself to envision that she was still dancing with her best friend, but then she turned back to her real dance partner. Her father beamed at her as Mark did, but, like Mark's was, she realized, the smile was tinged with disappointment.

Callie cast her eyes to the hem of her white gown , unable to look her father in the eyes. Of course, he was disappointed - he had been the one to send a priest to "Pray away the gay" after all. He came to support her anyway, but, no, he was disappointed, just like her mother, just like God, and just like-

"Mark?" she called, breaking away from the dance and running to him. "Mark, dance with me again." He looked at her questioningly, so she added a "Please" that must have had just the right amount of desperation, for he took her into his arms once again and waltzed her to the middle of the floor.

Callie smiled apologetically at her father, who gave her such a look, a knowing, nondisappointed look, that she was rather shocked.

Was it so obvious to everyone but her?

His arms were so sturdy, so strong, so different than Arizona's feeble embrace had felt. She pressed her face against his chest - a solid wall of man - and he brought her securely to him, close enough that she could smell the musky scent that was so distinctly him.

"This is the way it should be," the voice spoke again, and this time she was not sure if she had said it out loud, or if Mark had said it, or a voice from heaven.

She stopped dancing, sudden and unexpected, and when Mark asked her what was wrong, she muttered simply, "Let's go. We have to go."

Mark nodded, he knew better than to contradict her, and she practically clung to his arm as he lead her away from the bewildered guests.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked when they were in his car, and she shook her head and gestured vaguely, as if to say "Anywhere but here".

It took all of five minutes of aimless driving before her outburst.

"How can you go gay after being with McSteamy?"

Mark turned into the parking lot of a dark, unknown building, the tires screeching from the abruptness.

"You tell me." His voice was cold, or maybe hurt.

"Do you know what my mother told me?" Callie asked, glancing at her unveiled reflection in the window. "That it was devastating to raise a child and to love a child and know you won't see that child in heaven."

"Do you want me to disagree with her? Because I don't-"

"She's right, Mark." She burst into tears, which was not altogether unexpected. "I'm going to burn for all eternity because of this stupid...what is this even? This wedding, this sham-"

"Don't you love her?" Mark asked.

"Yes, I...I love Arizona." Her words came out slowly, as if she was really concentrating on them for the first time and discovering that they didn't taste quite right. "But how can I love her? I'm not gay - I never was gay - I had George, I had you."

" Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders."

Callie blinked. "Well, where'd that come from?"

"I did my research once you...made this decision."

She nodded. "I did too. I know all this. I...Mark, what's wrong with me?" The tears that had begun to subside started up again, and she clutched her car seat's arm rests. "Why am I doing this? I'm purposely going against my parents and against God, and all I want is..." She sucked in her breath suddenly, as if she had been drowning and had just resurfaced. "...you." It was barely a whisper but enough for him to hear.

"You have me, Callie, you know that," he said good-naturedly, turning towards her. "I'll always be here for you."

"No, Mark." She laughed, a little bitterly as if mocking herself for how stupid she had been. "I want you."

"Oh...oh." His look of realization was priceless. "Well, it's about freakin' time."

This time her laugh was bright and joyful, and as she plastered his face with kisses she spoke intermittently, "And Sofia wants you...you and me and baby Sofia...who else in the universe wanted to be parents more than we did anyway?...we can get a little house...we can switch off every other day working and babysitting...let's take her to church...and be a little family-" She gasped. "Mark, will you marry me?"

Now it was his turn to laugh. "I believe that's supposed to be my line."

"Well, you did ask me when I first told you I was pregnant," she reminded him. "I was just an idiot and gave you the wrong answer."

"What about-" He paused, unwilling to even say the blonde's name. "-her."

The look in Callie's eyes changed to fury so quickly that he was taken aback.

"I'll never speak another word to her as long as I live. How dare she lead me into temptation." She paused. "I was so close to realizing this before. That the wedding meant nothing, legally or otherwise. And then Bailey told me that my church just hadn't caught up to God yet and that my mother hadn't caught up to God yet."

Mark's eyes practically matched Callie's in fury. "What a load of crap. God is the one against homosexuality; society's sinful acceptance can't change God."

"Marry me, Mark."

"I've loved you for so long." His voice shook. "You have no idea how painful this has been for me."

"You've always had something against her, haven't you?"

"Of course." A heated beat, and he pulled her against him. "That evil woman stole you from me."

She reached for him before he reached for her, straddling the storage compartment between the passenger's seat and the driver's seat to get closer. The feel of his lips on hers was familiar, the roughness of his beard, the demand of his fingers. Somehow he maneuvered them to the backseat, never breaking the frantic lip lock.

He was on top, pressing with his weight, stroking her with firm hands until she was moaning into the kiss. A hand strayed to her breast, but the corest-like gown deterred his advances, so he hiked up her dress until it was in a giant, white pile around her waist.

She heard a zipper and then, "Are you ready?" and she smirked and replied, "No."

"No?"

Her smile softened at the desperation in his voice. "No, not yet. Let's do this right this time."

"Get married? Right now?"

"Well, we're certainly dressed for it," she joked, gesturing to their attire.

He beamed at her, looking much like he had while he watched her dance with her father, but with all traces of disappointment gone. He kissed her - a bit longer than the peck he had intended it to be - called her his bride, and hopped into the front seat.

"Oh, Mark?" She tapped him on the shoulder and met his eyes in the reflection of the rearview mirror. "Could you do me a favor and get my mom first? I have a feeling she'll be very happy to hear about this."

The End