Disclaimer: This is AU. I do not own any of the characters from Grey's Anatomy. I just manipulate them to my will. Also, any line or phrase or setting that seems remotely familiar from any other show, movie or book, also not mine. I borrow…
AN: Another shot of cowgirl goodness for yall. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
Arizona's POV:
"Now?"
"Hmmm… Looks a little fat to me. Roll it out some more," I say.
Two tiny hands grip either end of the rolling pin and a pink tongue peeks out from between two lips as Ali goes to work. Flour has somehow managed to make its way into her long, black locks, as well as coat the entire front of her little apron. But the four year old doesn't seem to care about the growing mess around her, and Ali continues to flatten out her pizza crust.
"Come on, Squirt. Put some muscle into it." My hands cover hers and as a team we roll out the dough together. "There it is. Perfect. Just how Mommy likes it."
"Perfect!" She chirps. "Can I do anoder?"
"I don't know…" I sigh. "Two pizzas? Are we hungry enough for two pizzas?" A cloud of flour billows up around her as she nods her head an enthusiastic yes. "Well alright then. Let's get to work."
And because my daughter loves to do things on her own, I stand back and let the girl work. It's very entertaining to watch a four year old interact with flour. And sticky dough. All the while I remain close by to manage the situation.
"What kind do you think we should make?" I ask.
"Umm…" Ali hums in that way little girls do. "Pepperoni."
"Definitely pepperoni," I reply. "And the other one? We can't have two pepperonis or else we'd might as well have made one giant pizza."
"Macawooni and cheese!"
"What?! There's no such thing and macaroni and cheese pizza, ya goofball."
"Yeah-huh. I ate it with Henry one time," Ali insists, all but forgetting the pizza crust and now thoroughly focused on this very important decision of ours.
But our very intense conversation over unconventional pizza toppings is interrupted by the sound of keys at the door. And like the flip of a switch, Ali's attention is diverted. I help her down off the chair she was standing on to reach the counter, and tiny little feet make a beeline out the kitchen, through the living room, and to the front door. …Carrying traces of flour all the way.
"Mommy!" I hear Ali yelp in excitement.
"There's my baby girl," Callie coos. "How are ya, huh? Oh, I missed you today."
"Come see what me and Momma are making." Ali pulls Callie through the living room, not allowing the woman to set down her bags along the way, and into the kitchen. "See Mommy?"
"Yes, I see." Callie smiles. "If you two were trying to make a mess of the kitchen then you guys did a fantastic job." Brown eyes track about the kitchen island, now like a desert of white flour, and across the floor now littered with flour foot prints.
When her gaze drifts upwards to the ceiling, I say, "Uh yeah… that was me."
"You?" Callie smirks.
"Yeah, well… I was trying to uhh-" I mimic tossing dough in the air "-and, well… it didn't turn out too good." I try not to smile but thanks to my less than smooth accomplice's giggling my façade fractures.
"The pizza fell on Momma's head," Ali adds.
I turn to her with a shocked face. "That was supposed to be our secret!" But again, Ali just giggles.
"Well, I needed to mop the ceiling anyway," Callie mumbles. A warm hand finds the small of my back and soft lips press against mine. "Hey," she whispers. "I kinda like this 'you being home on a Wednesday night' thing."
"Me too."
During the years I was attending college downtown, Callie and I were forced to compromise. Even before Alijandra was born, I swore that she would not be raised by 'the help'. She wouldn't be handed off to a nanny or babysitter, and she wouldn't be stuck in daycare for days and days on end. I didn't want to raise my daughter that way, and Callie, who grew up with nannies instead of a nurturing mother, agreed. But then I got into school. I could no longer stay home every day and watch Ali, so Callie started taking her to daycare. And we started to fall into the pattern we swore we'd never do. Ultimately we found a way to make it work. Callie altered her work schedule to where she'd have Sunday's and Monday's off, and work Tuesday to Saturday. My class schedule was Monday's to Thursdays, leaving me with Friday's off as well as the weekend; meaning Ali was in daycare no more than three days a week. But that also meant that we, as a family, only had one day together. Sunday.
That's how it was for three years. And, God bless her, Callie went with it. There were times whem I really thought she'd say she'd have enough. Frankly I wouldn't have blamed her. I missed her. We slept in the same bed every night and yet it felt like we never saw one another. Those Sundays together were great, but they never lasted long enough. And those six days separating Sunday from Sunday always went on way too long.
But we made it. I have proof of it hanging on the wall in my den. And now? Now I don't miss dinners anymore.
After some more debating and compromising, our two pizzas go into the oven; one pepperoni and one half cheese half Hawaiian. While they cook Callie and I attempt to clean up the kitchen, with our daughter's help of course. But, as with most four year olds, she haven't really grasped the concept of cleaning and instead she just spreads the flour around. Finally we just shake her off and send her out into the living room to play by herself, and Ali is more than happy with that arrangement.
Dinner is delicious, of course, and very soon there are three full and happy bellies. The rest of the evening seems to speed by and before I know it I am carrying a sleepy four year old up the stairs. Her head dips and sways as I walk and her tiny hands clutch at the front of my shirt. Thankful that we've already gotten her changed into her pjs, it takes little effort to get her into bed. Once she's tucked beneath her purple sheets, Ali's eyes can hardly stay open anymore.
With a kiss to her chubby cheek, I whisper, "Sleep tight, big girl."
"Love you, Mommy," Ali mumbles, already on her way to dream land.
"I love you too, Squirt." I run my fingers through her soft black hair and marvel at just how beautiful she is. I shouldn't be surprised, she's Callie's daughter. But still…
When I get back downstairs I find a barefoot Callie up to her elbows in soapy dishwater. Her hair is up and out of her face, exposing that delicious neck that I can't get enough of; the gentle slope, her perfect complexion… And the way she fills out her jeans just right- curves to die for. I can't keep my hands to myself. They somehow find their way to my wife's hips while my lips hum against that caramel flesh of her neck.
"Everything good?" Callie asks while I nuzzle her from behind.
"Mmhmm," I hum. My lips press a soft kiss at that soft spot just behind her ear. "Asleep before she hit the pillow. And don't worry about the dishes, Calliope. I can get them in the morning."
"No, it's alright," she replies. "You and Ali made a delicious dinner. The least I can do is clean up."
After an attempt to assist, and a hip check that pushes me away from the towel I was reaching for, I grab a beer from the fridge and hop up on to the kitchen counter to watch. Callie fills me in on her day at work; all the new interns who are trying to kill their patients, fighting with the new board members who know absolutely nothing about medicine and treating patients as patients and not as piggy banks, and how she'd readily sacrifice her best resident if it meant getting Bandy back to Seattle. It's all pretty much the same as it has been for months. Some new investor has bought out the place and has turned it on its head, in turn leaving all nurses and doctors struggling to adapt to new policies and procedures.
"Anyway, that was my day," Callie sighs heavily. "What'd you and the little one do?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. Went to the park, fed the ducks, played on the swings. Raced around the aisles of the grocery store. Swung by a strip club on the way home. Possibly contracted chlamydia from a very questionable hooker named Tonya. And that was all before noon."
"Wow. Busy day." Callie pretends to think, then says, "I didn't know strip joints opened before noon."
"Oh yeah." I take a swig of my beer. "They serve a mean breakfast buffet. I mean, sometimes you find glitter in the eggs, but that just makes it more festive."
Brown eyes roll in amusement and Callie unstops the sink. "I suppose I shouldn't ask how our four year old got past the bouncers, huh?"
"Fake I.D.," I answer smoothly.
Callie dries herself off with a dish towel then squeezes herself between my knees. "Always knew you'd be a great mom," she plays.
"I am a natural, aren't I?"
That deep, throaty chuckle that I just love spills from those lips, and I find myself drawn to them. My hands gently cup the base of her skull, and with her head tipped up towards me, my lips ghost just out of reach of hers.
"I did talk to Travis today," I whisper, and get only a hum in response. "I'm gonna have to fly out there in the next week or so. I shouldn't need to stay more than a couple days or so."
"Want me to come?" my wife murmurs against my lips. "I've got a few weeks of leave saved up. It's been a while since we got out of town. Unless… you don't want your wife and baby girl to cramp your style…" I don't even have to answer, and instead close my lips on Callie's. Soft. And slow. Teasing, almost. "Mmm- God, I really like having you home on Wednesday nights," Callie says again.
My jean clad center is now flush with Callie's stomach and I can feel the temperature of our bodies rising with our hunger. Our kiss is no longer soft, or slow. It's needy, and passionate. I use my height advantage to take control and push my tongue between two plump lips. I can still taste her wine from dinner, but what makes core burn with desire is the taste of Callie. Something so uniquely her that I can't describe but drives me insane.
"You know what we haven't done on a Wednesday night in a while?" I groan.
"Way ahead of you, baby," Callie says. She fists the front of my shirt and tugs me off the counter. Our trek out of the kitchen and through the kitchen ping pong's off of walls and furniture. We leave a trail of stripped clothes as we go, and we only part when we reach the stairs.
Mindful of our sleeping daughter just down the hallway, Callie and I stealthily creep across the wooden floorboards to our bedroom. Only then do we dare touch one another again. By now I've rid my wife of her pesky shirt and pants, leaving Callie in merely her bra and panties while I hold the upper hand with an added tank top.
But my tank top and bra are quickly stripped from my body by hungry hands, and I get pushed back onto the mattress with a thud. The next second Callie is on top of me, and a very shapely thigh slips between my legs to provide the most exquisite pressure right where I need it most. Callie's lips nip at my neck, and my fingers deftly remove the bra restraining two heavy, perfect breasts. And as I cup their weight in my hands, kneading them just firmly enough to send pleasure racing through my wife's body, Callie's deep moans fill my mind. Arousal collects between my legs and I'm sure that I'm going to combust if I don't get some kind of relief soon, but Callie isn't moving quickly enough. I try to take the lead but my wife is having none of it, and a strong hand against my flushed chest keeps me firmly planted on my back.
Callie sits back on her knees and takes a moment to survey my work. If the smirk on her face is any indication, she likes what she sees. Me, flushed and glistening, breathing heavily beneath her. The color of her rich brown eyes have darkened and now look nearly as black as the night skies just beyond our windows.
Two fingers hook in the band of my pink boy shorts and pull them slowly from my body. Warm hands then start at my ankles and work their way back up, grazing along every inch of skin in their path. Callie braces herself just over my right shoulder and lowers herself back down on top of me. Her right hand snakes between our bodies and finally she touches me.
I whimper at that first touch, the suddenness of her fingers against my clit like a bolt of lightning ripping straight through me.
"Mmm," Callie growls. "So sensitive." Her fingers become coated in my juices and her ministrations begin to quicken. I try to find a hold on something, anything. The sheets. A pillow. Callie. Anything that will give me what I want.
"Does that feel good, baby?" Callie whispers.
"Fuck- yes!" I whimper when one finger sinks into my heat. A second is added with the next thrust and I plead, "Faster. Please, Calliope. More. Faster."
But she has another idea in mind, and soon that touch of a finger is replaced by the touch of her tongue. And I'm done for. Her softness, her warmth, her strength… There is nothing in the world that can compare to the perfection of Callie's tongue working its wonders on me.
"Yes, baby. Yes. Right there. Oh god-" One hand grips the back of Callie's head, holding her in place, while I use the other to try and anchor myself. My hips move and buck on their own and I know I'm dripping wet, just how Callie likes me.
The room grows hot and the smell of sex hangs in the air. Hair mats against my forehead and sheets stick to my back. I can feel myself getting close. That ball of energy that winds itself up in the pit of my stomach grows bigger and bigger with each flutter of Callie's tongue and with each deep stroke of a deft finger. Just glancing down between my legs and seeing Callie there, lips pressed so intimately against me, nearly sends me over the edge.
"Callie- baby, I'm so close," I whimper, and I feel her fingers inside me strengthen, pushing me closer and closer. "Oh fuck- right there. Right there. Yes. Yes." With one final thrust, and two lips suckling at my clit, my orgasm hits me. That ball of energy snaps and warmth shoots up and down my limbs while every muscle in my body spasms in pleasure. And Callie doesn't stop. Her fingers massage at that sweet spot while her lips continue to nibble at my exposed nub.
It always fades too soon, and when my vision clears enough I look down to see a very smug looking woman staring back up at me.
"Seemed like a good one," Callie goads. And when I try to sit up, to reverse our positions so I can get a taste of my wife's sweet essence, I'm pushed back down. "Nuh-uh," my wife scolds me sternly. "I'm not done with you yet, cowgirl."
Her tongue returns to my hyper-sensitive clit, and I know it's going to be an amazing night.
AN2: Wooooo sex! I know some of you aren't into the smut, sorry. Can't please everyone, though I do try my damnedest. Alright, next up… our happy family is going to Colorado! Things are gonna start getting good. Ya'll are gonna hate me. ;-)