Title: I Could Get Used to This

Author: iheartcallietorres (laurenxx3 on LJ)

Pairing: Callie/Arizona

Rating: T

Summary: Songfic/Drabbles set to The Veronicas' song "I Could Get Used to This"

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Shonda Rhimes/ABC. I own nothing. Not for profit. Any similarities to real life are purely coincidental.

A/N: This is my first songfic. Not beta-ed, so all mistakes are mine. (Please let me know if you come across any mistakes). Comments/Reviews welcome!

__________

CALLIE

You make me breakfast in bed

When I'm mixed up in my head

You wake me with a kiss

I could get used to this

"Time to wake up," a soft voice whispered in my ear, lulling me out of a deep slumber. I tired to ignore it and keep sleeping, but soft lips brushed against mine, insisting that I acknowledge them.

I lazily opened one eye and was greeted with the most beautiful blue eyes and a stunning smile.

"Good morning," Arizona said softly, brushing a lock of hair out of my face.

"Hmm," I sighed. "Morning." I reached up for another kiss, letting my hand cup her cheek. I tried to pull her down to join me under the covers, but she pulled away with another smile.

"I made you breakfast in bed," she said sweetly.

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You made breakfast?" The last, and only, time Arizona had attempted to cook a meal, the smoke detector had blared for half an hour from the smoke of the burnt-beyond-recognition meal. I insisted that I'd do all the cooking from then on. I didn't mind. I love cooking, especially for her.

Arizona looked sheepish. "Okay, so I poured some milk and cereal in a bowl and cut up some fruit, but it's the thought that counts, right?" she said as she reached down and placed a tray with two bowls of Cheerios and another bowl of cut up strawberries, cantaloupe and apples on the bed. She grinned.

I chuckled, but sat up. I didn't care that she couldn't cook worth a damn. I thought her tray of cereal and fruit was the perfect way to start the day.

__________

ARIZONA

You think I look the best

When my hair is a mess

I can't believe you exist

I could get used to this

The surgery on the ten-year-old girl took longer than expected, but she was going to be okay.

I let out a sigh of relief as I scrub out and head to tell the family the good news. They were extremely happy, of course, to hear that little Emily was going to be just fine. After instructing Karev to take the parents to see Emily in recovery, I went in search of my gorgeous girlfriend. Her shift ended an hour ago, but she had stayed at the hospital to wait for me, even after I told her she didn't have to. She did anyway.

I still get a little flutter in my stomach and can't help but smile every time I think about her. We've been together for two years now and it still feels new. Sure, we had our squabbles. Every couple does. But I could never stay mad at Calliope for long and it seemed she was the same when it came to me. And it was always so much fun making up after a fight.

I reached the lounge and was glad to find her there, lying on the couch, flipping through a magazine.

"Hey," she said and sat up when she saw me, tossing her magazine aside. "How'd it go?" she asked.

"Super," I replied. "She's going to be fine." I walked over to sit beside her, dropping a kiss onto her lips.

"Hmm," she sighed. She reached up and pulled off my pink scrub cap.

I pulled back and finger combed my hair, knowing it must look a mess.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you are when your hair is all messy?" Calliope teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, sure."

"Seriously," she insisted and buried her face in my neck. "You look like you just rolled outta bed…" She placed open-mouthed kisses along my neck, causing me to groan softly. She always knew just what to do to get me worked up.

She pulled away and I pouted at the loss, but she just smiled and stood.

"Let's go home," she said and held out her hand. I eagerly took it and we practically ran all the way to our apartment across the street, anxious to be alone.

__________

CALLIE

Because I know you're too good to be true

I must have done something good to meet you

As I studied Arizona from my position at the bedside of Mrs. Watson, an eighty-three-year-old woman with a broken ankle, I couldn't help but smile broadly. She was across the ER talking animatedly to a young boy, distracting him from the IV being placed in his arm by an intern.

Arizona had the most beautiful, kind heart I've ever encountered. I take her for granted sometimes, and I mentally kick myself every time I catch myself doing it. I don't know what I did to deserve her. Maybe I don't deserve her. I probably don't. But I do have her and I thank God for that. Not to sound cliché, but I don't know what I'd do without her.

Just then, she laughed at something the boy said and felt my smile widen even more.

"That your girlfriend?" Mrs. Watson asked, noticing my smile and who it was directed at.

"What?" I asked, shocked. It wasn't that I hid my relationship with Arizona. I no longer cared what people thought about me. But the woman knew just from the smile on my face. I blushed, wondering if I was always that transparent.

"The blonde," Mrs. Watson said. "She's pretty."

"Ah, yes, she is," I responded. I'm not one to discuss my personal life with patients, and I tried to change the subject, but she would have none of it.

"Just because I'm old does not mean I'm oblivious, Dr. Torres," Mrs. Watson said, an amused expression on her face.

I gave her a sheepish look.

"I may not understand, but it's obvious you love her."

I paused in my examination of her ankle and looked at her, chuckling. "You don't miss a beat, do you?"

"Never," the feisty woman replied. "Have you told her how you feel? Because she should know."

I laughed again and turned back to her ankle. "I cannot believe I'm having this conversation," I said.

"Have you?" she asked again.

I looked up again. "I tell her every day."

She nodded and looked very satisfied with herself. "I was married myself for sixty-one years before my beloved Edward died last year. You hold onto that, you hear?"

I laughed again at the woman's bluntness. "Yes, ma'am," I said. "I plan on holding onto her forever."

__________

ARIZONA

'Cause you wrote my name across your hand

When I freak, you understand

There is not a thing you miss

And I could get used to this

I'm feeling it coming over me

With you, it all comes naturally

I've lost the reflex to resist

And I could get used to this

"You've corrupted her, you know," Cristina said as she sat across from me in the cafeteria.

"What?" I asked, confused. I was waiting for Calliope to meet me, but she was still in a consult with Owen Hunt. We may miss our lunch date, but I understood. That was a part of being a surgeon, after all.

"Callie," Cristina said. "You've corrupted her. She's all happy and singing in the shower and practically skipping through the halls."

I couldn't help but grin, at which Cristina scowled.

"You know she has 'Arizona' written on the back of her hand?"

I raised my eyebrows at that. I was about to comment when I noticed Calliope walking toward us, lunch tray in hand.

"Sorry I'm late," she said as she next to me and kissed my cheek.

"It's alright, I was just having a very interesting conversation with Cristina," I replied with a smirk.

"Oh? Should I be afraid?" Calliope joked.

"Very," I said. "Let me see your hand."

She gave me a weird look and stuck out her right hand. I shook my head. "Your other hand."

She blushed and glared at Cristina. She stuck out her left hand, palm up. I took it and turned it over. She did indeed have 'Arizona' written across the back of her hand in her neat, cursive handwriting. She blushed and tried to pull her hand back, but I tightened my grip, then brought her hand to my lips and placed a gentle kiss against my name, all the while gazing into her eyes.

"Get a room," Cristina groaned and picked up her tray and walked away.

"I like her suggestion," I said softly. I stood up and bent down to whisper in her ear. "Why don't you meet me in the Peds on call room when you're finished eating?" I turned to walk away, but she grabbed my arm.

"I'm not hungry," she said and stood as well, practically dragging me behind her as we made our way to the on call room in question. I giggled at her rush, glad I wasn't the only one affected to easily.

Calliope didn't even bother to turn on the lights as she pressed me back against the closed door of the on call room and pressed her lips against mine. I doubled-checked that the door was locked before pushing her back towards the small bed and pressing her back into the mattress.

"I love you," she whispered into my ear as she buried her face in my neck.

I pulled back and placed my forehead against hers, cupping her cheek in my hand. "I love you, too, Calliope Iphigenia Torres. Forever."

__________

CALLIE

You love the songs I write

You like the movies I like

There must be some kind of twist

But I could get used to this

Because you listen to me when I'm depressed

It doesn't seem to make you like me less

I laid on the couch in our apartment and went over the surgery again and again in my head. The patient, Gracie, a twenty-one-year-old female that needed a simple repair of a shattered knee cap, had unexpectedly coded on the table and they hadn't been able to revive her. It was no one's fault—she'd had an unknown heart condition that had made it impossible for her heart to withstand the surgery. There was nothing anyone could have done to save her.

But it still ate at me. I hated loosing any patient, but I've treated Gracie several times for chronic knee and shoulder problems, a product of her intense tennis training. But this was the first time she'd needed surgery and now she was dead.

I didn't usually get attached to patients, but Gracie was just the kind of person you couldn't help but like. She had been a lot like Arizona in that aspect.

I was still deep in thought when the door opened and I heard Arizona walk in. When she saw me laying on the couch, arm thrown over my eyes, she knew exactly what to do. I heard her in the kitchen before she came back to the living room. She pulled me to a sitting position and settled into the corner of the couch, then pulled me back towards her so I lay cradled against her.

"I heard about what happened. Here," she said softly, handing me a glass of red wine.

"Thanks," I replied just as softly and drank the entire glass in three gulps. I didn't want to cry, but I felt the tears well up anyway.

Arizona took the now empty wine glass from my hand and placed it on the coffee table before hugging me closer and kissing my forehead.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Just hold me?"

"Of course."

(Still CALLIE)

'Cause you wrote my name across your hand

When I freak, you understand

There is not a thing you miss

And I could get used to this

I'm feeling it coming over me

With you, it all comes naturally

I've lost the reflex to resist

And I could get used to this

Every once in a while, someone will mention Erica without realizing it was me they were talking to, and then they'd look at me to see how I would react. But I didn't care. Her name no longer affected me.

For a while after she'd left, I'd been defeated, broken beyond repair. That is, until Arizona had kissed me in the bathroom at Joe's so long ago. That night, I was reborn.

With Erica, everything had seemed so complicated—what to do, how fast to go, should we keep the relationship a secret or not, what did this make me?… It had all made my head spin.

But with Arizona, everything just seemed… right. I never had to question whether or not I was ready to take the next step or if I was ready to let people know of our relationship. Hell, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that I was head-over-heels in love with the gorgeous, perky, blonde Peds surgeon and I no longer cared what others thought of me.

It had taken meeting the right person, meeting Arizona, to finally realize all of these things.

So, when someone mentions Erica in my presence, and it happens quite frequently, actually, I just react as if they had mentioned a brilliant cardiothoracic surgeon and not an ex. Because, in my mind these days, Erica was just a brilliant cardiothoracic surgeon.

But even mention Arizona to me, and I can't help but smile and think about how incredible lucky I am to have this amazing woman in my life that loves me unconditionally.