TITLE Those Other Dreams
CHAPTER 2/3
AUTHOR Devylish
FANDOM Grey's Anatomy
PAIRING Callie/Mark
WORDS 4209
RATING PG13
WARNINGS/SPOILERS/SUMMARY Language. none. Part two of my entry for the Mark_Callie LJ Blind Number Challenge. Items chosen: Mrs. Torres, Lab coat, Denver.
DISCLAIMER Disclaimer All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show Grey's Anatomy. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of devylish. devylish is in no way associated with the TV show Grey's Anatomy and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.
AN unbeta'd AN blackberry06 wanted me to make this part 10000 words, BWAH HA HA! is what I say to that, but... if it makes her feel any better… I have 4200+ here, and dang it all a THIRD chap to write! AN the red shoes: http:// www. shoes. com/ Shopping/ ProductDetails .aspx ?p=EC1129219&pg=5082544
Callie had introduced her mother to Yang, and the Grey's… Hunt, Shepherd. And she was just chatting with a couple of her other co-workers in the cafeteria, when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother sit down next to none other than Mark Sloan. She groaned under her breath and turned back to finish her conversation. She'd extricate her mother from Mark's presence as soon as she could.
****
"I am so happy to see you here today Dr. Sloan," Mrs. Torres settled into the chair across from him. As he settled back into his own chair – she did lovvve gentlemanly behavior – he raised a brow at her. "'Mark'… I'm sorry, Mark."
"That's better, and it's nice to see you this morning too. Getting the two cent tour?"
"Yes, but I admit, I came to the hospital with an ulterior motive. I came to, hopefully, find you."
Mark sat back in his chair, a look of curiosity gracing his handsome features. "Looking for me for any particular reason… Anastacia?" His voice was slightly suggestive. He couldn't help it. First, she was a woman; a lovely woman. And second, she looked like Callie. He was done with married women…. But that didn't mean he couldn't flirt!
She blushed faintly before shaking her head in admonishment. "I'm too… mature for you, Mark. Besides," she straightened out the tray sitting in front of her, "you wouldn't know what to do with me." She looked up at him with a purely Calliope smile, before straightening her facial features and adding, "No, I came here looking for you because I wanted to ask you about your relationship with Calliope."
Mark sat up a little straighter in his chair and looked across the cafeteria to where Callie was talking to Bunche and Turner. He dragged his eyes back to Mrs. Torres. "My relationship with Callie?"
"I know you two have… had… had… well, I know you've been together," she glanced up at him then focused on her coffee again. "and –"
Jesus what is it with the Torres Matriarch and Patriarch; you touch their daughter and suddenly you're under a microscope or staring down the barrel of a shotgun!
"… I want to know why you broke up?"
The words blurted out of his mouth, bitterly, longingly, before he could even think about stopping them. "You have to be together first in order to 'break up'."
She looked at him, dissecting him with her eyes far better than any scalpel could. "I do 'know' that the two of you have been together. Callie admitted as much last night."
He sighed… I'm going to have a talk about my… my sex-relationship-life with Callie's mom? Kill me now. He tried to make his response short and clean; he should have known that wouldn't work, nothing about Callie and him would ever be short and clean. Everything about them would always be long and dirty. "We… hung out for a while. Off and on…. We're good friends. I think."
"Why aren't you… more than good friends anymore?"
"We're still friends," he defended adamantly… and hopefully.
"She use to talk about you, you know? I could always tell when you were 'more in her life' or less in her life. The little, 'Mark and I went toos', or the little 'Mark and I were talkings'… they were there, then they were gone, then they were there… her conversations with me were like a map of your…'friendship'. And about, oh a year and a half ago… the 'Marks' just disappeared." Mrs. Torres looked him in the eyes steadily, "Why? I would like to know why you and Callie broke up. Why you never stayed together. Why you and my Calliope haven't been introduced to my husband and myself as 'Mark and Callie'? Como novios?"
"We never --," Mark thought of Callie's brilliant smile. He remembered her laughing at something stupid he'd done, and how the laughter hadn't stung, because he knew she cared. He recalled her nudging him when he was down or preoccupied, just to let him know she was near. He felt that damn spot in the middle of his chest tighten…, again, and he answered Mrs. Torres honestly. "I wish I knew."
"But you do love my baby?"
"I," Christ! She wants me to admit to love? The only person I ever told I loved was my mom… and look how well that turned out. "I care about Callie, a lot. She's amazing. As a matter of fact, amazing is too weak of a word to describe how great she is."
Anastacia Torres smiled at Mark. "She is 'amazing' isn't she? And she needs a special man," she paused and corrected herself, "or a special person in her life. Someone who recognizes just how great she is, but who also… isn't afraid to rein her in a bit." Her smile grew bigger. "My Calliope has a strong spirit. She's like a thoroughbred. Beautiful and sweet, but she needs a good hand to… guide her."
Mark deadpanned, "Women's liberation doesn't mean much to you huh?"
"I don't want her controlled; she'd break the face of anyone who 'tried' to control her."
Mark laughed in agreement.
"What I envision as the perfect mate for my Callie, is someone who admires her for all of her greatness, and who protects her from all of her weaknesses. She knows she's a good doctor, she knows she's a beautiful woman, yet sometimes…, sometimes she forgets these things." She sipped her coffee, "The right person for Callie will… kick her in the ass," Mrs. Torres tinged pink at her own use of language, "when she's being… forgetful. But they will also hold her close at night when she's feeling uncertain and scared."
Mark didn't say that that was all he'd ever done for Callie, push her and pull her close, when he thought she needed it.
But he thought it.
"You strike me as a man who could… maybe, be Callie's match. And I wanted to know why you weren't in her life continually." Mrs. Torres paused. "If I'm not incorrect, you love my little girl." She held up her hand to stop him from responding to her use of the 'l' word. "And if I know anything about my Calliope, she feels… equally as strongly about you. She doesn't get riled up about the small things, the people, or things she doesn't care about. She only gets ruffled about those other people. Those other things. The things that matter to her." Mrs. Torres grinned. "You, my dear man, ruffle her feathers in a big way. Now the only question is, are you… man enough to finally do something about it?"
"Man en –" He was interrupted from his surprised self-defense statement by the arrival of the woman in question.
"Sorry that took so long mama," Callie nodded in his direction, "Sloan."
And suddenly everything came down around him. This is what they'd come to? A cool nod? Second hand notice? He took a deep breath then looked at Mrs. Torres. "I'll see what I can do to fix that problem ma'am." Standing up he turned his brilliant smile toward Callie… all 500 watts glowing in her direction. "I've invited your mother, and you, out to dinner tonight and your mother accepted…" He picked up his tray. "I'll pick you up at 8pm; wear something nice." He walked away before Callie could hit him… or decline the invitation.
Callie watched Mark walk away, her jaw slack. Turning back to her mom she narrowed her eyes. "What the hell just happened?"
"I believe, we just got asked out to dinner."
"… 'Wear something nice!'" She glanced down at her black jeans and black silk blouse. "I always look nice. I look nice in sweats. I look nice in nothing...! Wear something nice my ass!"
Mrs. Torres picked up her tray, bowing her head to hide her smile. The man definitely ruffled her daughters' feathers.
***
Callie had bought shoes. Sinful i-couldn't-afford-these-if-mom-didn't-pay-for-them shoes. Red satin, four inch high, red satin, sling backs. Shoes that made her feel ready to face Mark Sloan. Shoes that made her feel strong… and sexy. Not that she especially wanted to feel sexy around Mark, but… well, does it ever really hurt to feel sexy?
****
"Mama are you ready yet?" Callie adjusted her cleavage just a bit in the mirror that graced the small hall that lead to her bathroom and bedroom.
Mrs. Torres responded from behind the closed bedroom door, "Asks the woman who spent two hours in the bathroom."
"It wasn't two hours," Callie mumbled as she braced herself against the wall, putting her heels on. "It was an hour and forty five minutes."
Walking to the bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet, "Perfume… perfume." Something sexy, but sophisticated… for my dinner with the ass." Burberry or Michael Kors? Somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled that Mark had an affinity for the Kors. She spritzed some in the air and walked through it. Then she sprayed some on one of her wrists, rubbing the fragrance in.
Putting the bottle away, she took a deep breath and nervously shook her hands out. If there was anything she could do to get out of this 'thing' she'd do it. But no escape roué was in sight. Well maybe she could fake being sick; her stomach was doing flip flop/butterfly wing thingies. "
Jesus Christ," she whispered. Why the hell am I even doing this? Going in a date – a chaperoned date, nonetheless – with Mark Sloan? Why is spending time with Mark freaking me out? I mean….. Jesus. I'm worried about impressing him! We aren't even the type to try and impress one another, but that's exactly what I'm trying to do; I'm fucking putting on fuck-me heels, and a killer dress, and his favorite perfume….! I'm trying to impress him! She plopped down on the edge of the tub then jumped up so she wouldn't wrinkle the skirt of her dress.
She groaned, He's making me act like a girl! How the hell is he suddenly doing that? She forced herself to gingerly sit back down on the tub. He's seen me in sweatpants and my grubbiest t-shirt. She looked down at her red dress, briefly considering pulling it off and putting on some jeans. Jeans would show him I couldn't care less about earning his approval. She looked down at the dress again, it va va'd and it voom'd in all the right places. Enough cleavage to get a man's attention, but not enough to make her mother want to put her in a convent.
Callie growled. Since when do I need to work to get Mark's attention?
The apartment buzzer rang.
"Mama!" She yelled as she jumped up and skated to the buzzer, "Mark's here! You have one minute!" She took a deep breath and pressed the speaker. "Hello?!"
"It's me."
As if he's the only 'me' I could possibly have! As she buzzed him up, Callie tried to make herself angry at him for the assumption, but then she recalled that there had been a time when he was her 'me'; when he had been her person.
Shit! I miss him! She realized as she unlocked the door.
Turning back to the center of the apartment, prepared to finally wrestle her mother out of the bedroom, come hell or high water, Callie's jaw dropped open and her eyes widened.
Before her stood her mother, hair in a scarf, a robe wrapped round her petite, but curvy frame, and slippers upon her feet.
"Mother?" Callie tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Before she could berate/question/scream with frustration at her mother, the door behind her swung open, and she could feel Sloan's form behind her.
"Good you're both here now." Mrs. Torres smiled innocently. "I'm so sorry Mark, Callie, but I'm just not feeling up to going out tonight."
"Why didn't you mention this to me earlier mama?" Callie bit out the question with as much control as she could muster. "We could have saved Mark a trip here."
"Oh, no… I didn't want to ruin your night. You two can still go out."
Callie glanced at Mark, half accusingly/half apologetically. Was he in on this? Turning back to her mother, she gathered her wits about her and toed off a shoe. "I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you home alone Mama, especially not when you're feeling ill." She pivoted back to Mark, hobbling on one shoe, "I'm sorry Mark, but I can't –"
"Don't be ridiculous." Mrs. Torres interrupted with energy. "I'll just curl up on the couch, watch some television. You get Telemundo yes? It's… it's just a little upset stomach." She moved forward, bent down and picked up Callie's shoe, handing it to her daughter.
Pushing first Callie, and then Mark back toward the door, she continued. "You two go out, have fun, maybe bring me back piece of cake or pie. I'll be fine." She shoved Callie fully through the doorway and slammed the door shut behind the unwilling victims of her little scheme. With a sigh, she locked and bolted the door and leaned, tiredly, against it. "Dios mio, es difícil ser cupido."
***
Standing in the apartment hall with a shoe in her hand, Callie stared at her apartment door. "I may have to kill my own mother."
Mark had bitten his tongue for as long as he could but finally he had to give in; throwing his head back he gave a sharp bark of laughter. Mrs. Torres was wonderful. He was almost positive -- as positive as Callie was -- that her mother was faking an illness so that he and she would be 'forced' to spend some time alone together.
He chuckled; the sight of Mrs. Torres pushing her daughter out of her own home -- hobbling on one shoe -- was priceless.
Priceless, that is, until Callie shot a look at him that let him know that she was more than ready to kill him for finding the situation funny.
Putting a damper on his laughter, Mark took a few steps towards Callie. "Here, let me help you with that." He reached for the shoe that she still held in her grasp and crouching before her, he held the shoe before her foot.
Callie looked down at him, at his close cut grey/brown hair, and suddenly, she wanted to touch him again. It was a feeling -- a desire -- she hadn't experienced in… in nearly two years. Leaning forward, just a bit, she gave in to her desire, letting her hand rest on his shoulder as she lifted her foot and let him slip her shoe on.
How can this feel more intimate than anything else I've ever done with him? We've done… we've done some remarkably, incredibly intimate things. Things I've never done with anyone else. And yet this… him kneeling at my feet, his hand on my foot and ankle….
She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until he stood up, and suddenly, it came rushing out in a soft wave.
In her heels she was face to face with him, breath to breath, eye to eye.
"Hi." Why did I ever let her go?
"Hi." Is that my voice? Husky and deep and saying 'take me to bed' in just one word?
"I made reservations at Bebbos." Mark let his eyes drop down to Callie's lips, and then he made himself back away from her. "We should probably go."
Didn't he read the 'fuck me' tone in my voice?! Or doesn't he want me anymore? "We don't have to go to dinner Mark. Really, I would be fine staying –"
"We're going!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall.
"I… but…! Mark! Slow down, these shoes aren't made for running! They're barely made for walking!"
He slowed down when they reached the top of the stairwell and turning back to face her, he grinned, bent over and lifted her over his shoulder.
"Sloaaannnnn!"
Callie continued to yelp his name and hit him on his back until they were half way down the three flights of stairs that led up to her landing. Then she just got silent.
He had to admit the silence was way more disturbing than the yelling.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs Mark patted Callie on the thigh. "Okay Cal, I'm going to put you down; don't start swearing at me…, or hitting me." He lowered her to the floor, letting his hands rest at her hips to steady her. When was the last time I touched her? Held her close? Could it really have been two years? How could I have let two years withoutCallie go by? He tapped her hips lightly before releasing his grip on her.
Although thoughts of yelling and perhaps slugging Mark had been running through her head for the past few seconds, Callie scoffed aloud at his assertion that she'd do any such thing. "As if!"
He grinned, pushed the door open with one hand, and held his other hand out to her, "All right… 'Alicia'…" he glanced down at her feet then let his eyes drift back up her frame. "Think you can make it to my car in those gorgeous things?"
She lifted a brow then looked down at his hand. "Think you can walk at human speed? Or will I need to try and sprint in them again?"
Without waiting for a response she raised her hand to his; hiding her response to the electricity that flitted through her at his touch.
Following him out the door as he gently tugged her toward the street, she teased him just a bit, "So you're aware of Clueless huh? Kind of a chick flick for you, don't you think?"
"Shut up. The women in the movie were hot… little skirts, fitted sweaters…." Mark glanced back at Callie and dared her to pick on him again.
"Right. Gotcha."
****
She loved this. This moment right now.
They were walking along St. Anastah Ave.; his body close to hers, their pace slow and aimless.
Dinner had been… well…, awkward, at first. She'd found herself questioning every move, every word, every look he made; that she made.
Then their wine had arrived and he'd placed his hand on hers, briefly, and she'd felt the electricity again. And she'd stopped questioning and wondering 'why'. She simply accepted that Mark was here… by her side. Laughing, and teasing, and 'with her' like he use to be.
Who cared 'why'?
After dinner they'd headed out of the restaurant and she'd turned to the valet station only to find Mark tugging her in the opposite direction.
"Walk with me?"
"O-okay."
They'd gone a couple of blocks, in silence, when he apparently recalled that she was wearing her beautiful, fuck-me, killer shoes. Stopping their progress he offered, "We can go back if you want. Unless you want to go barefoot?"
It was a perfect end of the summer night, warm, but breezy, and they were on a perfect street. Trees and grass lining the sidewalks of boutiques and cafes. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she eased first one, then the other foot out of her shoes. Before she could bend over to pick them up, Mark did so, and tucked the heels in one of his pockets.
"You're going to ruin your jacket." She slid her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder as they started to walk again.
"If it gives me five more minutes of walking time with you, it's worth it."
God she hated/loved it when he was sweet and charming.
"So you and Arizona. Definitely done, huh?"
She stiffened slightly, then relaxed back into him. "Extra crispy, charcoal-y done."
"What happened?"
She paused before nuzzling her cheek against his arm. "I'll share if you tell me why Lexie dumped you."
"Fine. You first."
She hadn't really expected him to agree to her suggestion, but if he was willing to share…? Curiosity had been eating her alive about his breakup with Lexie.
"Short story shorter, Arizona thought I wasn't as in to her as I should be."
"Were you?"
She lifted her head and glanced up at Mark's chiseled jaw.
"I – I thought I was."
"I sense a 'but'."
"You're good at sensing butts."
He glanced over his shoulder, taking in Callie's curves. "Well, when you've got an ass like that…"
She hid her smile as she nudged him lightly before responding to his statement. "I thought I… we were in a good place, that we were moving forward, but ever since she called me on it, I… I guess…. She made my skin tingle," but it wasn't electricity. "And she made me forget to breathe," but not from merely touching my foot. "But…."
"But?"
"She didn't," drive me mad, make me hate her so much that I was back in lo --, "get me. Not all of me."
They were silent. Comfortably in step with one another.
"Let's head back," he said when they reached the next comer. Walking across the street they started their stroll back towards Bebbos.
"So what about you? And Lexie? What happened there?"
"I dumped her ass."
Callie burst into laughter, "no, really! I shared my story! What happened?"
She looked up when Mark remained silent. "Holy shit! You weren't kidding! You broke up with Little Grey?!" She hit him on the arm. "You do know that everyone at SGH thinks she dumped you!?"
"So I've heard."
She pulled them to a stop and looked up at him. "You're being enigmatic. It doesn't suit you. Spill."
He grabbed her hand and made her start walking again. "I didn't think it was fair to keep stringing her along. So I called it off."
"Stringing her along?"
He sighed, "She wanted the picket fence, and little 'little Grey's'…, or Grey-Sloan's. She wanted a commitment."
"And you're not the commitment type." Callie nodded her head in understanding.
They walked in silence until they reached Bebbos again. Their thoughts separate but closer than either of them would have dared think.
As they waited for the valet to collect Mark's car, Mark moved to stand behind Callie, resting his head atop hers, his arms wrapped around her frame. I'm a smart man. I know I am, but, God I've been stupid. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo, apples and cinnamon, and then… there was her perfume… his favorite…. "You smell good." And feel good.
Callie felt a shiver run through her system and she let her body settle against his. "You think?" Score one for Kors.
He pulled her closer to his body an inhaled again. "I definitely think."
***
Pulling to a stop in front of Callie's apartment building, Mark broke the comfortable silence that they'd been driving in. "So, dinner? Tomorrow night?"
"I," she scowled as he slammed his door shut and strolled around to her side of the car. As he opened her door she quirked a brow. "It's not polite to ask a question and walk away."
Mark slammed the door shut after he'd helped her out. "I never claimed to be polite." Tugging her towards him as he leaned against the side of the car he asked her again. "So, dinner? Tomorrow?"
She curled into him. "Yes." She breathed his cologne. "… No. No. I can't, mama is flying to Denver tomorrow, her flight's at 930pm. I have to take her to the airport… hang out with her." She looked up at him. "I can't." Dinner? "But, maybe…, afterwards…," she played with the lapel of his suit. "You could meet me back here?" She felt his cock jump against her belly.
Mark lifted his hand to Callie's face, brushing the loose curls away from her cheeks. I have to do this right. Do it differently. Make her understand. "Lunch. Have lunch with me tomorrow."
She stared at him. I just offered him carte blanche access to my bed and he's saying no? And asking me to lunch?! What the fuck is he doing?!
He could see the confusion racing over her features. And he touched her cheek. "Meet me at SGH at 1:00." He leaned forward and kissed her nose before pushing away from the car and walking her to her apartment building door.
As she unlocked and opened the door, he spoke again. "You're wrong you know."
She leaned against the open door and looked at him questioningly.
Mark stepped up to her and bent his head slightly, brushing his lips against hers; the softness of her lips sending sparks and chills through his body. He pulled back a little, "I do want it."
Callie held on to the door, her knees weak from a barely there kiss. "W-want what?"
He took a mental picture of Callie, all soft and shimmery and vulnerable. "The picket fence, mini- Sloans, and… commitment. I just didn't want it with her." He tapped Callie's perfect nose with his index finger before turning and walking away… while he still could.