She finds them both on the couch. It's late, rain beats against the roof, lightning cracks the air. Cristina jumps in her sleep, tangled inside a nest of limbs that tighten unconsciously in an act of comfort. They're half naked: Teddy's lover. They've had a fight: overturned chairs, open cabinets, ripped clothes, til they fucked each other into some uneasy truce that will be forgotten in the forgiving light of early morning. But for now they sleep, a haze of goose-bumped limbs and Teddy knows they will regret not sleeping in a bed. She lays down her keys on the coffee table, removes her damp coat.
"Cristina?" She crouches down to her level, body aching from a 48 hour shift. The younger woman shuffles wearily, burrowing deeper into Erica's stomach in defiance. "Come on baby, let me carry you to bed."
Cristina groans, cracks one eye open. She's been crying. Her hair is a mess. Teddy runs a gentle hand over her check.
"It's over now," Cristina says, extending her arms in surrender. Teddy hoists her up into her arms and they make the journey to the bedroom. "We agreed to disagree." She slips easily into the California king bed, shivering underneath the cool covers. Her body aches but for a different reason.
"I'm glad. When you two fight it's like the Cold War." Teddy kisses her forehead before going to fetch their lover. "Get some sleep."
In that short time, Erica has risen from the cough. She is sipping coffee at the island, her blonde hair pulled into a loose bun. She looks tired, troubled.
"She cried Teddy," she says, not even turning to look at her. She sighs. "She is fiercely intelligent, she is talented, she is ruthless, she—"
"She loves you," Teddy interrupts, "She loves you and she loves me and we love each other and we love her. It isn't always going to be easy, you know that. You have to fight for things you want."
"Yes but I made her cry. I made Cristina Yang cry. Over what? Me, being bitchy and cruel at work. I know its hurtful but I can't show her special treatment, especially if anyone was to find out about us, about all of us. I'm trying to protect her."
Teddy goes to stand in front of her, runs her hands over Erica's arms. "I know that and she knows that. She says it's over now. She forgives you." She withdraws her hands, instead crossing them over her chest. "But fucking her against the first available surface at the first sign of trouble is not helping. Right now she may not mind but she's not a sex toy and I won't let her be treated like one."
They regard each other, simultaneous opponents and teammates, as the rain continues raging outside. They love each other with the knowledge that each can take of themselves. But for some reason, Cristina is different. Perhaps its because she's physically smaller than each of them, younger, the most with things to learn. But they are both protective of her, even against each other.
"Teddy? Erica," Cristina calls, her voice a loud and sleepy whine, something that warms her lovers' cold stares against each other. They now share fond, tired smiles, the battle now forgiven and forgotten. "Come to bed! It's cold."
So they do. When they enter Cristina has replaced her shirt with Teddy's college sweatshirt, has tied her hair into a messy bun that matches Erica's.
"There you are," she says around the edges of a yawn. She rubs her eyes like a child and Teddy and Erica feel a sudden surge of tenderness. They crawl into the bed on either side of her and enter into their usual positions. Cristina curls against Teddy's chest, Erica spoons Cristina from behind. The two blondes steal a kiss over Cristina's head before kissing each of her cheeks.
"Goodnight," Cristina says, tiredly, to both of them. The lightning echoes the sentiment and the fall, dreamlessly, asleep together.