A/N: Hiya. Leave a review. Tell me what you think will happen next. I'm curious.


Day 103.

Breakfast had been quiet…for the most part anyway.

Sure, Deluca had stumbled through the kitchen midway in, stolen a piece of toast and an undressed pancake, and then breathlessly darted out of the door. But that wasn't particularly surprising for a surgical intern. Callie and Arizona had easily shrugged off his disappearance, returning smoothly to their meals while Sofia, as if taking her mothers' cue, carried on with her story seamlessly as if the interruption had never happened.

And Maggie has a keyboard in her room, Mommy, a huge keyboard, and she said she knew how to play it too.

She did? Wow. Callie pauses mid-bite to show some lazy form of awe.

Yep! Sofia eagerly continues, having some sort of secondary pride in her friend's learned skill. She can almost play all of Jingle Bells. But she says she's waiting till Christmas to show everybody because otherwise, it won't make any sense.

The little girl punctuates her words with a nod as if Maggie's secrecy is the most reasonable thing in the world.

Well, when Christmas comes around, we'll have to drop by and listen to her play. Callie offers it mindlessly, forgetting that Arizona was to have Sofia during the Christmas season. The blonde doesn't mention it.

-/-/-/

Later in the afternoon, the Robbins-Torres family finds themselves clustered together atop Arizona's fairly small sectional. Callie sits upright on one end of the couch, preoccupying herself with flipping through TV channels while Arizona lies stretched out, head comfortably in her lap. Sofia has taken up a small space, wedged between her mother and the back of the couch. Her right arm and leg are slung awkwardly over the blonde's relaxed body, and her left knee is jabbed uncomfortably into mother's thigh. Arizona had cautioned her daughter wearily that the position would be far too uncomfortable to stay in for long, but the stubborn Callie mini-me had just shaken her head and wiggled into the tiny crevice.

See Mama! I fit!

Within a few minutes, she was pressed into her mother's shoulder, snoring softly. The position is hot and more than a little cramped, but Arizona cannot bring herself to move away. Instead, all she does is roll her eyes and kiss fondly at the crown of her daughter's head.

She's so much like you it hurts. Arizona mumbles against the little girl's hair. She smiles when Callie releases a breathy laugh in return.

A few moments later when they had decisively settled in, Callie offers a rather disconcerting reminder.

This is our last day here. She mumbles. It takes a moment for the words to register, but when they finally do, Arizona tilts her head back in surprise.

Really?

From this angle she can clearly see Callie biting at the inside of her bottom lip.

Winthrop only gave me a week. She says, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. We're on day six…

Arizona relaxes her neck again, looking away from her ex-wife. She feels something cold swim up her veins and belly flop into her heart. Oh…I'd…I'd forgotten. The words sound empty even to her own ears. What exactly had she forgotten? That Callie lived halfway across the country now? That she had an apartment and a redhead and a whole life away from Arizona? That their time together had always bore an explicit expiration date?

We should do something fun. Callie says out of nowhere, breaking through Arizona's rather depressing train of thought.

We should? The blonde looks up again, her confused eyes meeting Callie's excited ones.

Yeah. Think about it. We could take Sofia to that trampoline place she likes so much, maybe go for ice cream afterwards at Sundae Funday and then…. Callie tilts her head down to face Arizona, her eyebrows wiggling a little. I could get Meredith babysit, and we could have a little ladies' night.

A ladies' night? Arizona repeats, now a little excited herself. She hadn't gone out or done anything remotely interesting besides sunrise Yoga since the custody battle. A night on the town was long overdue. I'm in.

-/-/-/

Sofia's getting all her stuff ready. Callie notifies as she enters the kitchen. Arizona is busying herself washing some leftover dishes before they leave. She nods in acknowledgment of the other woman's presence.

You know um… I was thinking I could visit again soon…Callie proposes, coming to lean up against the kitchen counter beside Arizona. She had been thinking about this for a few months actually, really ever since the two had gotten close all those phone calls ago. But she was never really sure how to approach it without dredging up bad memories.

You should. Arizona smiles, briefly turning her head toward her ex to send her an agreeable look. Tell me when you plan on coming. I'll take the time off.

Oh, good… Callie responds awkwardly before clearing her throat. Because I was thinking…maybe I could come in February? Callie whispers the last word tentatively, watching as Arizona immediately freezes, hands still partially submerged in water.

Why?

Callie raises her eyebrows as if offended, trying to lessen the tension with humor. I like being here, and I assumed you liked me being here.

I-I do, but… the blonde trails off, turning her head so she can make eye contact with the other woman. But you know February is…?

I remember.

Is that the day you plan to come?

Callie crosses her arms, leaning a little more heavily into the counter. Her eyes are soft and concerned, and Arizona feels her heart clench a little at the sight.

When she found out Tim died, she had been so young. It was her final year of residency, and she had been running around the hospital for ten hours straight, charts in one hand, a cup of lukewarm coffee in the other. She probably hadn't had a proper night of sleep in over a week, but her face was warm with the determination and purpose. Looking back it was odd to her, being in a hospital everyday and yet being so unfamiliar with death. Sure she knew it well in a factual sense. She could rattle off a thousand terminal diseases, list the symptoms, the stages. She could walk into a room and tell by the paleness of a patient's face or the blueness of his lips that he was fading. She knew death from books and from strangers. But intimately, she had no idea. It wasn't until that day, paused and trembling in a hospital hallway where thousands of mourning family members had received similar news, that she truly knew what death was. That she truly knew what it took from a person. Her mother's teary voice, stuttering out the news.

"There was an airstrike. Tim was…he didn't know. N-None of them knew. Oh, sweetheart…"

She had never really stopped mourning. She supposes no one does. Not after losing someone so close. Someone so important. She had, however, learned to compartmentalize. She'd tucked that part of herself down into a low section of her heart and made room for other things. For happiness. For love. But on that date every year, the day she had found out about Tim's death, she let herself truly lament her brother's passing. For years, Callie had been the only person she'd shared that sadness with. They would sit and talk and on occasion, drink. She would tell stories about Tim, about Nick, about growing up in a family where the only constant they had was each other. She'd go on and on until she got tired of talking, and then as if sensing the change, Callie would tug her close and let the other woman cry into her shoulder for a very long time. Toward the end of their marriage, they had stopped spending that day together. They were just too angry at each other, too distant, too selfish. And now here Callie was again, offering that to her as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

I don't…you live so far away. I can't ask you for that…

I'm offering. Callie says easily, her eyes still so soft. I want to be here for you…I'm sorry I ever stopped.

Arizona sighs, pulling her hands from the dishwater and wiping them off with a nearby towel. She turns to her ex, stares at her for a long moment, thankfulness in her eyes. And then, as if determining the sincerity of the offer, she breaths out relieved, moves toward the other woman and hugs her tightly.

Thank you.

-/-/-/

The trampoline place, better known as Sky Zone, is as terrifying as always. Arizona watches on anxiously as tiny bodies bounce from trampoline to trampoline, narrowly avoiding each other.

God, this place is a lawsuit waiting to happen. She breathes heavily. We should have taken her to the toddler room.

Callie looks over, brows knitted. You mean with the one-years olds?

Arizona blows out a hard puff of air as she watches a young kid, not much older than Sofia, slam face first into the mat before popping back up, a wide grin on his face. At least that room has guardrails and freaking jumping rules. She exasperates. In the toddler room, we don't have to worry about Sofia slamming into another kid and knocking out her two front teeth.

Okay firstly, Sofia is a very cautious child, Arizona. Callie assures confidently only to cringe a second later as she watches the little girl do a lazy front flip almost landing on her neck. Besides, um She continues a little less self-assured, that kid's mom said those teeth were already loose…

Arizona shoots the other woman a look before rubbing her forehead tiredly. Next time we do this, we're going to a water park.

Callie moves to protest, only to be distracted by Sofia's tiny body being propelled into the air as other kid belly flops onto the mat beside her. The brunette bites the inside of her cheek uncomfortably. Okay. She acquiesces.

-/-/-/

Did you have fun, sweetie?

Sofia nods enthusiastically. Daren Hossel bounced me up twice. She says before continuing to lick her strawberry-vanilla ice cream swirl. He only stepped on my hair once which hurt, but it's okay. He said he was sorry.

Callie furrows her brow. Was Daren Hossel the redhead? Sofia nods again. Arizona looks concerned.

Are you okay? Did he hurt you? She immediately leans forward, worriedly cupping Sofia's chin and turning her head side to side. Callie watches on, eyebrows raised as the other woman fretfully searches the girl's face for bruises.

She sucks in her lips, suppressing a laugh before leaning over toward her friend. I think she's okay, Mama Bear. Callie places a calming hand onto Arizona's back. You can relax.

That place is like a deathtrap. Arizona mutters, releasing Sofia's chin before unconsciously leaning back into Callie's warm contact.

Mhm the brunette placates, patting the blonde's back comfortingly. Eat your ice cream. Arizona rolls her eyes but follows the gentle command anyway. When they look back at their daughter, they find her staring at them, a wide grin on her face.

-/-/-/

They had been over every possible way to spend their free night. They could've gone to the movies as Arizona suggested. They could've gone barhopping as Amelia had so helpfully advocated after snatching the phone from Meredith (they'd asked her to babysit and she'd kindly accepted the task). They could've danced for hours at that shady-looking nightclub right down the street from the hospital (that had been Callie's one idea contribution which Arizona had quickly shot down after noting a recent stabbing that happened there). The point is, they could have done a number of things, but after each suggestion, both of them sighed almost exhaustedly at the thought of going anywhere outside of the condo. Eventually, the two women had lazily agreed to spend their last free night talking, laughing, and getting very drunk in the comfort of Arizona's home.

Okay, shot of tequila for every person we've had sex with since our divorce. Callie calls from her seat at the dining table. She smirks at Arizona who is busy rummaging through the cabinets and collecting all the available alcohol and shot glasses.

When the blonde hears the other woman's suggestion however, she pauses and makes a face. Do you want me to get alcohol poisoning? It's somewhat of a joke but also very true.

Wow, that many? Callie says, humor in her voice but also mild disgust.

Don't 'wow, that many' me. I'm pretty sure your number isn't low.

It's not double digits.

Oh…

The blonde rolls her shoulders uncomfortably, continuing to retrieve drinking glasses from the cabinet. She can feel the brunette's gaze burning holes into her back.

-/-/-/

You have to match me, Callie. I want us to get drunk at the same time. Arizona declares when she's finally gathered what she deems to be an appropriate variety of liquor. Callie gives her a concerned look just at the pure abundance, but the shorter woman quickly assuages her fears with the promise that most of it (65% of it) is Deluca's.

That's never going to happen. The brunette responds, taking the bottle of tequila dangling loosely from Arizona's grip.

Why not?

Because you're a lightweight.

Arizona scoffs. No, I'm not.

Um, okay. A small snort comes from Callie as she haphazardly sets the bottle of liquor near the edge of the table. She holds up her hands, curling her fingers tightly before stretching them out again. A short, comfortable silence falls between them before Callie purses her lips and turns toward her counterpart.

Double digits? Really?

I was mourning. Arizona excuses, rolling her eyes. She knew that topic would come back up eventually She presses forward heavily into the wooden dining table, an apologetic (albeit humored) smile adorning her lips. I have sex when I'm sad.

Her face is devoid of make-up and slightly sweaty from rummaging around, but Callie's gaze dances across it appreciatively. She is comforted by the confession, by the reassurance that she was not the only one mourning, but she is also slightly balked at the number. Arizona has always been quicker than her.

I just cry when I'm sad. Or work a lot. Like a normal person, I guess. The comment is meant to be a joke, but it comes off with far more bite than intended. The blonde rolls her head from side to side cracking her neck before resting her chin in her palm. She decisively ignores the dig.

I needed relief. She shrugs before licking her lips and smiling. I know it's been a while for you, but you have to remember how relieving it is to, how did you phrase it… There's a pause and Callie rolls her eyes because she knows what's coming. Drown the muskrat?

Will you ever let that go?

Yes, probably, the blonde shoots the other woman a coy wink. But not anytime soon.

You know, a lot of people say that.

No one says that.

Whatever. Callie waves it off embarrassedly before leaning close and wedging her bottom lip between her teeth. I have a question. She starts.

Arizona looks at her for a moment before moving to pour herself a glass of raspberry wine. Go ahead.

From 1 to 10, how sad were you when I went to New York?

What? Arizona questions hesitantly. She doesn't exactly want to admit that she was probably severely depressed.

I'm just wondering if I should have steam-cleaned the couch?

Callie makes an exaggeratedly disgusted face and Arizona laughs/scoffs/(sighs relievedly) at the tease.

For your information, I've been pretty much a nun since the custody battle.

Callie raises her eyebrows in surprise. Arizona just takes a sip from her wineglass, smiling.

I know. Shocking, right? I guess there are some sadnesses even sex can't cure.

The comment is a little more honest than Arizona wants it to be, and she can tell by the way Callie's eyes immediately soften that the brunette has read through the lines as well. Callie opens her mouth as if to say something before closing it quickly. After a moment, she shakes her head, grabs the bottle of tequila still sitting precariously close to the edge of the table and tosses back a hard gulp. We are getting dangerously close to sad drinking territory, and that is not how I want to spend my last night in Seattle. She mumbles, the nozzle of the bottle still lingering close to her lips.

Arizona smiles, taking a sip from her own glass before saying, I couldn't agree more.

-/-/-/

Are you feeling it?

Not even a little bit.

Arizona throws her head back dramatically. You're lying

I'm not. You're a lightweight.

You've had like three shots and a glass of wine. That's lightweight to you? The blonde throws her hands around expressively the way she always does when she's tipsy, and Callie watches on amused.

My twenties were a questionable time for me. She shrugs. I was some stage of drunk at least 53% of time. This is nothing.

Arizona knits her eyebrows together, leaning in to stare disbelievingly at the other woman. We do our residencies in our twenties, so no, she holds up a stern finger to the other woman. You were not drunk more than half of the time.

Callie's eyes widen suddenly, like she's come to some shocking realization. I don't know if it has any correlation, Arizona but… the hospital death rate did go up three percent those years—

Calliope! Arizona exclaims the name right before throwing her head back in high-pitched laughter. Her hand rises to her mouth like she's trying to hold it all in, but it's overflowing. Callie watches her, a wide grin on her lips. Tipsy Arizona is so easy to entertain. She lets the other woman cackle on before finally cutting again.

Okay, I was joking. She admits when she feels Arizona has calmed enough. But you are much easier to get drunk than I am.

Arizona raises her hands up like she's surrendering to the idea that she might be a lightweight. Okay fine… But you know what that means, right?

What?

Arizona pushes the half-emptied bottle of tequila toward her. You're going to have to drink faster.

-/-/-/

I saw you dancing earlier. Arizona takes the already opened bottle of brandy and draws a large swig between her lips. It burns her tongue and the top of her mouth as it tumbles toward her throat, and the tiny blonde can't help but make an audible 'eck' sound as she chokes down the bitter liquid. Callie watches her, a tiny smile on her lips.

I was dancing? She asks, and the blonde nods in response.

Yeah…while you were making lunch for the kids…

Oh.

Blue eyes find brown, and Callie spots something that looks like budding mischief. You're good.

I am? Callie goads, smirking as she takes a shot of tequila straight from the bottle before chasing it with a sip of wine.

Oh definitely. Arizona tilts her chin down, pearly whites gleaming. Dimple popping. Very in control of your hips. Great form.

Callie cocks a surprised eyebrow at the blatant come-on. She leans back in her chair, pursing her lips as she tries to calculate from the blonde's batting eyelashes just what level of drunk the other woman is.

And by great, the blonde continues languidly, her eyes dipping down briefly before cockily rising back up to meet Callie's I mean amazing. Mind-blowing. The best form I've ever seen.

She finishes off the statement by licking her lips and smiling in a way that is anything but friendly.

And suddenly, Callie recalls this stage of intoxication very well. A few years ago, had either of them been anatomically capable, they would have made very cute babies due to this stage of intoxication… or at the very least, tried really, really hard. However now, Callie feels simultaneously enamored and repelled by the flirtation. She's tipsy, but not anywhere near the blonde. And she realizes with an uneasy start that she's never not had sex with Arizona when she's like this.

The brunette leans back in her chair, shaking her head as if trying to sober herself of the alcohol she's already consumed. After a moment, she pushes away the wineglass she's been steadily sipping from before shooting her blonde friend a rather unsettled smile. Thanks she says tentatively. I didn't know I had an audience.

Arizona bites her bottom lip, flicking her hair over shoulder. Can I tell you something? She asks. Callie purses her lips like she's thinking; Arizona continues on anyway.

I think you're becoming my best friend. Her smile is genuine, but her voice is soft like she's revealing a deep dark secret.

Callie smiles, her discomfort from a moment ago momentarily allayed, giving way to something much warmer. Same for me. She agrees, tapping her fingers against the table.

-/-/-/

Penny eyes her cell phone worriedly. It hasn't rung all day.

It's 11:34, almost midnight, and Callie still hasn't called. She hasn't even bothered to text, and Penny is desperately trying to figure out what that means. A sinking feeling pulls at the redhead's gut. She wonders when she became this type of person, when her feelings grew so heavy and burdensome that she can hardly stand them. They feel like weights pushing on her limbs, bending her spine. She's spent the entirety of this week walking around with hutched over shoulders and a miserable frown. She's irritable and suspicious and jealous all the time for no real reason. And she doesn't really know why. She was never jealous of Arizona when Callie and she lived in the same state, but somehow, now it feels different. Now, she is ever so aware of their history, of their connection. She rolls over, tapping the screen of her phone. She doesn't want to call. She doesn't want to be that girlfriend. She closes her eyes, inhaling sharply, entertaining the thought that maybe she already is.

-/-/-/

Show me how to dance.

Huh?

Show me how to do the hip thing. Arizona says vaguely, sashaying a bit in her seat before shooting Callie a drunken wink. She was pretty far along into the flirty intoxication stage by now but a playful glint shone in her blue eyes and Callie couldn't outright deny her.

I don't know, honey… The response is measured and reluctant as she feels the other woman's rather insistent gaze. You're prettyyyy loaded. She excuses. The brunette had stopped aggressively drinking awhile ago, settling instead for a few sips of wine every now and then. Arizona, on the other hand, had plowed right ahead, ignorant of her friend's sobering state.

I'm fine. The blonde slurs indignantly. Watch. She stands out from her chair, puts her finger on her nose and takes two wobbly steps forward.

Could I do that if I were drunk? She questions, finger still on her nose as she slightly tips over toward the left.

Callie snorts, resting her chin in her hands. Probably. She responds.

Arizona huffs, but the momentary offense is quickly done away with, replaced with a rather childlike mischief.

Could I do this? She places her hands on her hips and does an awkward swivel. Callie laughs loudly before biting her bottom lip.

You look a desk chair.

Arizona's eyes darken for a moment, her mischievous smile giving way to one a bit more devious. Do you want to sit on me?

Arizona!

I'm sorry. I'm sorry! The blonde laughs, holding her hands out, pausing any scolding the brunette was about to unleash. She walks around the table, giggly apologies still spilling from her lips before she finally stops right beside Callie's seat.

I'm just so happy right now. She sighs quietly, and there's a distinct mix of sincerity and raillery in her voice. Callie is not superhuman…and even if she were, this version of Arizona would certainly be some form of kryptonite. She smiles.

Teach me how to dance, Calliope. Come on; it'll be fun. The blonde pleads again more sweetly.

Callie releases a long sigh before shooting the other woman a look. You know how to dance.

No, I don't. Arizona asserts, a hand coming up to play with Callie's hair. The brunette lightly swats it away. You saw me just now. Arizona flutters her eyelashes. I'm hopeless.

Callie stands up, and the height difference is almost immediate. Arizona, who had long ago discarded her heels, has to tilt her head back slightly to look into her ex-wife's eyes. She thinks fleetingly about how attractive that is to her.

I know what you're doing. Callie scolds lowly, trying to pierce through whatever drunken, horny fog the other woman is in. It doesn't work. Arizona just widens her eye and scoffs like she's surprised by the accusation.

What am I doing? she asks innocently. It's ladies' night, and all I want is to dance with you. Is that so bad? She gives Callie a very dirty version of puppy dogs eyes before continuing, Am I bad?

Callie opens her mouth to say something but thinks better of it. Instead, settling on 'you're drunk'.

I am…a little Arizona acquiesces, the tempting smile on her lips falling into more of guilty grin. Her gaze drops down slightly as she tugs loosely at the stomach of Callie's light purple shell top.

This looks really good on you. She comments nonchalantly, letting her hands flatten against the fabric. Callie inhales sharply, her hands clenching and unclenching as if unsure if they should act or not. When Arizona finally looks back up, she finds her ex-wife staring down at her, a flurry of emotion winding and unwinding itself onto her face. Callie is not drunk. Maybe a little tipsy, but certainly not drunk That fact remains. But the way Arizona's hands begin sliding languidly down to her waist, the way her nails press lightly into the covered skin, grazing up and down gently. A practiced motion. It makes Callie feel a little intoxicated. The shiver that tumbles down her spine is almost automatic. She becomes painstakingly aware of how well the other woman still knows her, at least in a physical sense.

Arizona… Callie reaches down to grasp at the blonde's pale wrists, but the grip is anything but firm. Arizona tilts her head to the side, a knowing glint in her eyes.

Calliope. She coos back. Please.

At this point, Callie is quite unsure what Arizona is begging for. Does she want to dance? Or does she want to do something else entirely. She watches, a bit entranced, as the other woman pushes her head forward slightly. Her long lashes fluttering. Her lips pouted. Callie almost instinctively leans forward.

But then thinks better of it and leans back.

But then looks closer and leans forward again

From a distance, her head looks as if an indecisive magnet; simultaneously attracted and repulsed. For a second, it seems as if she'll be in eternal limbo, but then, finally, as if deciding to allot herself this one tiny inclination, she sighs, leans forward and presses her lips to Arizona's. The kiss lasts maybe only a second before she pulls away, an apology on her lips.

I'm uh…this is…sorry

Arizona nods absently, her tongue running over her lips as she takes a few shallow breaths. Her eyes dance over Callie's face like she's trying to discern something from her features. Quickly, she distances herself slightly just enough to let her hand rises from the space in between their bodies. It ghosts lightly across the other woman's chin before clasping firmly around the back of her neck.

I'm not. Arizona whispers sincerely, pulling the other woman close with a gentle but firm tug. Their lips meet harshly and sloppily, and it tastes strongly of hard liquor. Callie gasps in weak protest, but it's quickly swallowed by a much stronger moan. She trembles at the feeling of Arizona's hand massaging the base of her neck, of it gliding up to tangle in her hair before pulling at the strands gently. Again, she is hit by the strong sense of familiarity and the strangely warm thought that Arizona still knows her so well. Callie can feel herself being drawn in: her muscles relaxing, her lips unclenching, her tongue slowly coming forward to prod at the other woman's mouth. It isn't long before the kiss is deep and soft, and Callie's whole body feels like it's on fire. When they finally pull apart, she is panting heavily, and her fingers are pressed hard into deliciously soft skin. She glances down to find her hand up Arizona's shirt, dangerously close to the base of her bra; she can't for the life of her remember when she'd put it there.

Callie… Arizona breathes heavily, her eyes glossed over with want and something unrecognizable. I need to tel—

A blaring ringtone interrupts her as Callie's head snaps toward the sound: her cell phone. The brunette untangles herself from Arizona quickly, a small puff of relief falling from her lips. However, the feeling does not last long. The moment she picks up her phone from the wooden dining table, she is hit full force with the severity of what she's done.


A/N: How doth you feelth?