Chapter 9
Title: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
Pairing: Callie/Arizona… with a light side of some others.
Rating: T - M
Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy and/or any of the characters in it. All rights belong to ABC, the producers of Grey's Anatomy and Shonda Rhimes. I do not own any rights to Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
Made for entertainment purposes only.
A/N: A shorter chapter this time. Hope you enjoy :)
Arizona's POV
Gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe.
Thoughts just before falling asleep.
That song echoing in your head.
There are some things you can't get rid of.
Well, you can – but you have to try really, really hard… and even then… they stay, they exist, in one concentration or the other.
Strange thing to think about as my naked legs straddle her hips; nails pressing into the soft flesh of her thighs.
I can't help the arrogant snicker from my mouth as she gasps at my very wet underwear grinding against her vagina.
"Oh… fuck-" she groans into my mouth as her lips crash into mine, teeth clashing, arms wrapping around my neck pulling me flush against her; my tongue enters her mouth without any need for consent, feeling its way around every inch of her teeth.
She is incredibly sexy.
My phthalo blue formal shirt is unbuttoned, I don't even remember how my bra came off, but I do know that her satin camisole sliding against my naked chest does feel stimulatingly wonderful.
My lips capture her tongue, swallowing the guttural moan she releases as my hand slips into the thin, soaking fabric of her white cotton panties.
I place a wet open-mouthed kiss on her mouth, gently popping one of those plump lips between mine, then one on her chin, grazing a trail with my teeth down that slender neck – I can feel the vibrations of her groan against my tongue.
I tug on the smooth material of her tank-top signaling her to slip out of it.
She does.
"Y- you too…" she rasps.
I lose my shirt in the process.
A very brief break from the moaning tongue-clashes for the need of oxygen is where our panting breaths become increasingly apparent; it doesn't last long.
My right hand separates her slick folds as my left one squeezes a full breast.
"OHH – ARRI – ARIZ 'HONAA!" she groans through clenched teeth as the pad of my thumb presses down on her aroused clit.
I snicker authoritatively, "You like that?" Of course she does…
"Mm…"
I don't even have to look to know her eyes are scrunched close as she arcs her back and tries to buck her hips against my hand, seeking more contact.
"I – I do but…" she breathes out; brow creased in frustrated concentration.
"But what?" I retort with a smirk as my fingers roll her nipple and a digit teases her dripping opening.
"But more… AHhh' – puh - please…" I'm not a masochist or anything… but begging completely turns me on.
"More of what?" I torment, right before biting down onto her very stiff nipple, sucking the tip between my lips.
"FU - FUCK ME DAMMIT!" an adenoidal cry mixed with livid anger and lusty desperation, "FUC – FUCK ME OR I SW –" before she can complete her sentence, I spontaneously thrust two fingers inside of her, "AHHHHHHHH!"
I can feel her nails pugnaciously jut into my back.
My face sinks into her shoulder and the pillow beneath as I gain leverage to pump into her; my other hand massaging her very receptive breast.
I can feel the ripple of muscles through her abdomen as they press against my stomach.
"OHHH – Oh – mahh'y!" she grunts into my humid hair as I slip my hand out.
I like this game…
I feel her breath hitch and her body still abruptly, "Wh – a – wha – why'd you sto –"
I just kiss her shoulder, pushing three of my fingers back inside of her; evidently cutting her off.
"Ahhh!" she wails bending back into the mattress, "Puh – please! Hannserjf…" she trails off; one hand pushing my heated flesh into her's and the other one bunched up in my hair.
"What was that?" I whisper, barely audible through my own panting as I thrust in and out of the quivering woman.
"Ha – " I feel her shudder and a bolt of triumphant pleasure shoots straight down my middle, "Harderr!" she finally chokes out.
I comply; pushing deep inside of her, against the undulating muscle, against the resistance of her clenching core.
We fall into a rigorous rhythm.
I can hear the wet sound of my fingers move in and out of her - my hips assisting.
The musky smell of arousal mixing with her floral perfume is strangely heady.
My thumb circles her swollen clit as my fingers massage the soft tightening walls.
She lunges her head back into the bed, "Don –Don't stop… Don't stop… OHH don't… I'm so SO close" she metrically chants through chattering teeth – peculiarly simultaneous with the soft thud of the backboard of my Oakwood bed beating against the wall…
"It's okay… come - come for me…" I blow into her sweaty neck; hurrying my pace.
"OH GOD – OH GODD! AHHHHHH' FU-!" She cries into my ear, bucking her hips against my moving hand, consequentially providing friction for my very drenched center as well.
I feel her body vibrate under me as my nails softly scratch her walls and I fall flat against her; our slippery breasts colliding, torsos slamming together. Her erect nipples press into the soft of my chest.
The pad of my thumb works against her hard clit.
My eyes close on their own accord, inhaling through the damp pillow cover.
I can feel the intense pressure build up in my lower abdomen; one of my hands bunches up the Egyptian cotton under us.
"Ohhh Arzh – " she moans intoxicated into my jaw, "I'm comi – I –uh –" she's cut off by an animal wail from somewhere inside of her as I feel a sudden gush of thick fluid against my hand.
Her moist body spasms underneath me as her center clutches onto my fingers and I feel her go rigid; she hangs onto me for life as her shattering orgasm rolls through her.
Her bucking pelvis provides stronger pressure against my saturated panties; I feel my toes curl.
I wait for her body to go limp to slip my fingers out of her – earning me a soft whimper.
Usually, at this point, I'd get up. I'd smirk. I'd ravage her all over again or make her ravage me. But I don't move. I'm stuck.
I can feel her heaving chest, my hitching breath, my heart pounding erratically,
Her golden skin… that ebony hair… that delicious mouth…
My teeth bite into my bottom lip, as one of my hands automatically tangles in her hair. My hips continue to grind against her soaking center.
I need a release… I can taste her, smell her… my fingers tug on that soft hair, only a little fierce…
And as if she read my mind, "Oh - Arizona…" she exhales into my shoulder, "… here you go babe…" with that, she pushes my sodden panties to the side and shoves two fingers inside of me.
"OHHHHHHHH CALLIEE!" the feral wail rips out of my throat.
Her gyrating body, the spicy scent fuming the atmosphere, our meddling moans of apex… it makes something shift in me…
Her arms… her strength… her warmth…
I can feel it – inside of me…
I'm not this easy.
I resist and push back the unnerving gravity in the pit of my stomach.
She thrusts deeper into me; her pace surprisingly energetic for being this spent.
I can feel my skin tingle, my muscles wave.
Suddenly, I'm helpless.
My arms wrap around her torso and I rest my head against her clammy, vibrating chest as she pushes in and out of me.
"Callie… oh god… d - don't stop – please…" I beg, pressing my lips to her jawline.
She stresses down on my swollen clit as I push my breasts into her stomach.
"Ahghh…" I groan in gratifying pain.
She's so beautiful… I can see her molten brown eyes darken into obsidian, that glossy jet-black hair sprawled over her smooth back… those luscious lips wet with my tongue… those glorious tanned breasts heaving underneath me…
Oh god… she's…
Then I see her; that mischievously mesmerizing smile across her perspiring skin.
"AHHHHH!" and that's all it takes – the beginning of the end.
I can't handle it anymore, the orgasm ferociously thunders through me as I cling onto her warm flesh.
I can't let go this easy.
But my body is a traitor.
My walls grit into a death-grip on her fingers; I feel my legs tremble and stiffen at the same time.
"OH m - Callie…" I pant against her clavicle as my climax spirals my being, my mouth sucking so hard on the salty skin that I know it will leave a mark.
Blunt nails probably leave inscriptions along the smooth skin of her back as I clasp onto her body.
My eyes shut as incomprehensible moans spill out of my mouth.
"C'mon baby… let go…" I just about register her words.
I'd do anything for you…
And just like that; I feel the last bit of deathly pressure inside of me dissipate as a warm surge of fluid dowses her fingers.
"Oh g…" I rasp shakily, my eyelids too drugged to open, "… Calliope…"
I feel my teeth grit.
She lets me ride out my high as she gently strokes my swollen clit.
Ow. I vaguely register the throb of my now oversensitive clit.
"Ohk…" my hand reaches into my panties, halting her movements, "… th – that's –" I struggle, dazed, " – that's… Callie I…"
I can feel her hand slide out of me and hover over my mouth. The piquant scent of my own arousal makes my tongue peek out and gently lick her palm.
She seems to savor the moment – or let me savor it.
Those hands… inside of me… on me… holding me… touching my lips.
I feel a little dizzy.
She presses it harder against my mouth.
My trembling limbs begin to moderate as she leans closer to my ear,
"Wrong name sweetie… again"
Dammit.
I stiffen.
My eyes snap open to look down into illegible grey-green ones.
Dammit.
I have to blink a few times to wash the haze out of my delirious brain.
What?
I blink repeatedly to clear my blurry vision.
I can feel my heart struggle to propel as my lungs scream for the suddenly lacking oxygen in the humid air.
I shakily roll off of her and land to the side; white sheets clinging to the perspiration on my skin.
The scorching heat warming my insides suddenly freezes into oblivion.
I can't even…
"Dammit…" I cover my face with unstable hands, "… I'm sorry" a barely audible reticent mumble through my palm.
I can't believe this is happening to me…
I just hear a faint smug chuckle as she props her head against the heel of her hand and supports it with an elbow on the dank pillow.
"This isn't funny!" I bark shakily; and for some strange reason, I feel a painful fluid burning in the back of my eyes.
This is ridiculous…
I turn to look at her suck on her cheek to try and wipe away that complacent smirk; auburn hair matted to her forehead, a blurry profile barely visible through the faint golden glow emitting from the bedside lamp.
"Alright…" she says haughtily, compensating her soft pant, running her hands through her knotted hair, "But seriously Arizona…" she swallows, "…this is the third time this week!"
"You don't think I know that Linda!?" I snap; my eyes death-glaring into her entertained ones; my sweaty arms folding to brace my torso.
"Exactly my point!" She raises her eyebrows bemusedly, "What's going on?"
"Uhg!" I grunt, finger-combing through my bed hair, "I – nothing is g – can we just forget it?" I sulk, hiding my face once more.
I really don't want to talk about this; especially not with a random woman in my bed who I repeatedly continue to mortify myself in front of.
My knuckles press into my brow.
So much for an afterglow…
I can feel the bed dip as she swings her legs over the edge, her toned, pale back getting covered by a bed sheet.
I snap my head toward her, raising my torso, supporting myself on the back of my forearms, "Wha – where are you going?"
"Arizona…" she says matter-of-factly, her sharp features almost pitying me, "…I do not sleep with women who call out other's names during sex, it's –" she pauses contemplatively, shrugging her shoulders, " – it's sorta' like a rule, I just don't… and that too – not thrice!" she enunciates, turning sideways as she starts pulling her jeans up… ever the eloquent scrub nurse...
"What!?" I ridicule, I don't even know whether to laugh or cry, "Are you frickin' kidding me?!"
She turns around with an attitude-ey lip-purse and a piercing glower.
I lose the stare-war; dipping my glare.
"I'm sorry…" I soften my tone, trying to harden my crumbling expression, "… I didn't mean to hurt you –" I shake my head, "- I just –"
"Wow, wow, wow hold up –" she chuckles bemusedly, hooking her peach bra behind her back, I struggle to keep my eyes away from her flushed chest "- don't flatter yourself hon – this is your problem, not mine… my ego is perfectly intact, thank you very much" the slight southern drawl making a sneaking appearance.
My problem?
Now my eyes are focused on her smug face.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I feel my irritation make an unhealthy comeback; I tuck a few stray locks of hair behind my ear, wrapping the sheet securely around my very naked breasts; I feel irrationally vulnerable all of a sudden.
She tugs a boot up her foot shooting me a 'seriously?' simper.
"What." I growl.
"Look –" she exhales, momentarily sobering into conceited earnestness, "- You're clearly pining over some girl and –" she pauses to pull on her sweater, her voice slightly muffled through the woolen fabric, "- and – well, all I'm saying is, why not scream her name in bed with her in it for a change?" she mocks.
She did not just really say that.
I narrow my eyes ominously, tracing her every move as she wraps her worsted-wool scarf around her neck, "Frankly Linda, I don't see how that's any of your business" I say in a stony, guarded tone.
Flinging a khaki satchel over her shoulder, she turns around, and sneers almost derogatively, "Ok then –"she rounds my bed, gathering her things, "- hope you enjoy a one woman show Dr. Robbins" she begins her swagger out the room.
No. Crap – not tonight…
"Linda… wait!" I breathe urgently, jumping up to a sitting position holding the sheet in place; she stops at the exit, turning around.
She just folds her arms across her chest, passively tapping her foot in demand… wonderful, because I don't spend enough time in Peds.
"Just –" I swallow, licking my lips irritably, "… just come back to bed and we'll have fun – it's – I won't say Cal –" I wince, "- I won't say her name again" I exhale with a tight smile, motioning to the wrinkled empty side of my rather large bed.
She visibly relaxes and for a second I actually think she'll comply, but then just smirks apologetically, "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't – my shift starts in 25 minutes –" her eyes quickly shoot to the wall clock, "- and I'm on Ortho. tonight…" she zips up her jacket, only enough to flaunt an inappropriate amount of cleavage of course.
I really hope she missed that paroxysm of a reaction on my face.
"… and I don't wanna' be late – you know how you surgeons looove to abuse the nurses…" she drones, rolling her eyes.
I just rub my temple in exasperation and take a deep breath in, "Fine. Whatever."
"Yeah –" she scoffs, pulling open the bedroom door, she struts out, "- gimme' a call when you get your head outta' your ass Dr. Robbins!" I hear her trail off as the front door slams shut.
I don't make any attempts to move.
I just stare out the door, at the dark shades of my dim-lit living room; flitting shadows of trees cast on the hardwood floors as headlights whir by.
"Perfect…" I exhale to nobody in particular, throwing my arms in the air; I fall back into the spring mattress in defeat.
The sound of teeth grinding against teeth is rather apparent in the dark, silent apartment.
Dark, silent – two words I've never before used to describe my home.
I have an overwhelming urge to either burst into sobs or pull my hair out.
I have gotten over women before. I HAVE.
What the hell is the matter with me?
I had drinks with her tonight - again - third time this week and it was perfect, as usual - the conversation comes so easy and I can't help but laugh and smile and just enjoy every moment with her; we've almost forgotten - or chosen to forget, or ignore, or whatever – the minor setback two weeks ago.
I groan raucously, pressing my fingertips to my eyelids in an attempt to still the exasperated tears accumulating.
Every day – every frickin day – I wake up and I'm the exceptionally talented, amazing Dr. Arizona Robbins, best damn Pediatric Surgeon in the North-west (arguably the continent). I wake up, go for a quick jog, jump into a steamy hot shower, shoot myself up with caffeine, strap on my Heelys – and I'm all set.
I'm confident, sexy and just purely fabulous at what I do, nothing stands in my way, yes I'm that good… and then… she struts down the hallway in those tormenting skirt-suits and those high-heels and I forget who I am.
I forget that I'm confident and sexy and fabulous, I forget that just before she showed up, I ranted in my head a chant about how this trivial little one-sided attraction will eventually burn out and we'll finally just be two gal pals, how one day we'll sit and laugh together about how I had a crush on her all those decades ago, how I regularly pictured her naked in the shower with my fingers between my legs or screamed her name as loud as I could while other women were in bed with me – Hardy-har-har… I'm almost cracking up right now just thinking about it.
Anyways, so the infatuation bit? I can get over that, every time she wears those low-cut designer blouses, I can tell myself – Breathe and swallow, no, no, don't look at her boobs, just breathe – and it actually works! Hell, she mostly wears scrubs now anyways (now the fact that dark blue is totally her color and somehow accentuates the curviness of her figure and the honey-gold glow of her skin all the while making her lips look even more burgundilicious is a completely different story).
So – like I said – I can get over all that paraphernalia… everything is under control… until… well, until it isn't.
In spite of my better judgment and basic common sense, we've been hanging out almost twice every week – thrice if we're lucky – whenever the stars align and our schedules match, or when her daughter isn't home, or her husband is busy… we hang out.
We barely even meet up for an hour or so, just at Joe's or any alcohol-serving place close by, because we have responsibilities, she has to go home to her family and I have to go home to my – my life.
It isn't anything deep or profound - just a few drinks, laughter, catching up on some good old hospital gossip and me reminding myself not to flirt every once in a while; and the last part is totally worth it too, because when I'm with her, and she laughs that lush uninhabited laugh, or talks, or smiles – or - you know? Breathes – I'm happy. The kind of happiness you don't miss your whole life because it's this top-secret happiness that you don't know about until you have it, that kind of happy. So, I'm good. I want to keep on being top-secret happy. The only bad part is that when she leaves, I want more.
Then I think about it over and over again and even convince myself she flirted back.
I subconsciously wrap the Comsilk sheets tighter around my body.
It's been this way since our little kindergarten fight a couple of weeks ago; we don't really talk about it, just silently put it off to PMS in sync I suppose.
She hasn't even mentioned that drunk night at Joe's, a fact which I'm both grateful and terrified of because I barely remember little snippets of it and I wish I remembered more, I wish I remembered exactly how it felt to be holding her so close… So this is what I think of, every morning when I wake up, this is what I think of and for a moment, all I can want is for this woman I barely even know to be mine – and just the pure ludicrousness of that thought makes me want to cry.
I don't even want kids! Oh my god – what the fuck am I saying – I don't even want a relationship for God's sake! I was happy with this… with Linda, and Ariel and what's her face…
I like people, don't get me wrong – I love people.
But relationships are just messy and take up an obscene amount of time and energy, time I could be using to secure grants for my department, time which could be utilized for research trials and surgery – to concentrate and climb up in the highly competitive field which I worked my ass off to get to.
That is where my time is needed, where my energy is required – that is what I want to focus on. Not on some useless frivolous crush.
That is who I am. I'm practical and ambitious almost to a fault - and I don't need any unnecessary romantic attachments to ruin that.
"Uhdgrj…" the few incomprehensible words I mutter are lost in the down pillows I bury my head into.
How can something so perfect and flawless and magnificent be so… extremely… forbidden?
I almost laugh out loud in vexation.
I have to get over her. Seriously.
Seriously.
It's been a month since I met Callie Torres – and the frickin' gum still isn't scraping off.
"It isn't even scraping off!"
"Oh gosh Mark – just use a credit card or something – " I say as one hand swipes my ID and the other one brings a hot cup of coffee to my lips, side-eyeing an overly agitated plastic surgeon, "Sucha' drama queen…" I mumble into the steaming liquid; the mist from the paper cup more so pronounced in the crisp, downright freezing morning air.
Luckily, his ego doesn't allow him to capture my slip.
"You're not hearing me Robbins –" he bends closer, the expensive vestige of his Pierre Bourdon makes my nose curl… I always preferred the more feminine attars, "These are Alligator skin… you don't just 'use a credit card'" the enunciated words hardly becoming of his gruff voice, "Not like it's a woman…" he mutters offhandedly into his caffeine, one hand buried in his pocket, gaze aimed to his apparently amphibian-donned feet.
"Dammit – this –" I swipe again, "- My stupid card isn't working…" I whine.
But I abruptly stop and turn to him, despicably narrowing my eyes at his primed expression, "Mark Sloan – you did not just say that" I chastise.
"Hey- take it easy…" he leans back in mock terror, then smiles suggestively into his drink, " – you know you were thinking it too…"
Pig.
"No I wasn't, you pig!" I scoff, "Just because I like women doesn't mean you need to involve me in your disgusting little sex jokes…" I rant on; knitting my eyebrows, I turn back to the stupid machine, "Not everyone's mind works in your manwhore-ey ways Mark…" I drivel on, swiping the plastic again, "No wonder Lexie Grey runs from you like the bubonic plague…"
Okay… ouch… low blow, I know – In my defense, I'm not in the best of spirits this morning for obvious reasons.
I can virtually sense his leer turn and his coffee still in mid-air.
I pretend not to notice, biting my tongue when I feel the need to apologize - not sure why I did that- as I futilely attempt for the security to recognize me.
He clears his throat, "Step aside Robbins –" I feel a burly weight tactlessly push me to the side, "Let the master handle it…"
"Pch… the master?" I mime, tucking loose hair behind an ear, "Unless that thing is an airheaded bleach-blond skank, Mark – I don't think it's going t –"
I'm interrupted by the glass door theatrically spreading its legs for one proud Plastic Surgeon, his sparkly smirk matching the debauch glint in his eyes, "You were saying…?"
"Shut up" I growl under my breath, almost awkwardly galloping through the ominously welcoming entrance – racing past him.
Unbuttoning my coat as we step into the centrally-heated, bustling lobby of Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital - I shoot quick smiles and nods at a few familiar faces… while Mark winks at a few familiar drug reps and nurses and patients and doctors and… well… practically every specimen of the female species (preferably Homo Sapiens).
The hospital is almost always crowded – what can I say – sickness knows no rush hour… That said, mornings are one of the times which seem to be the busiest of all. Not because of sick people, mind you – but it's just generally the time when shifts end and begin, when people walk in with fresh bagels and coffee, when everyone smells all pretty and clean and shiny, offering hasty 'hellos' and polite smiles at mere acquaintances… then by the time noon rolls through, everyone is either too fatigued or too knee-deep in blood and guts to give a flying crap about social decorum.
This morning is no different from the rest. Hurried corridors full of colorful scrubs.
"So… speaking of women –" he jogs up to me, "- would your –" he clears his throat as though raking through his vocabulary "- foul… mood this morning have anything to do with the half-naked redhead storming out of your apartment last night?"
FUCK.
"Wh – what?" I nearly trip on myself, my complacent smile almost faltering – I try to cover it up with a sip of java.
Ahh'… Yet another splendid reminder as to why Mark Sloan living across from me was my worst nightmare come true.
"So tell me… is that her real hair color or –" he continues, not oblivious to the fact that he hit a nerve.
"Ew Mark – stop" I fasten my pace; shooting him a disgusted expression.
"Ahh' so I'm right then!" he practically skips excitedly.
Dammit.
"Some of us have work to do Dr. Sloan!" I try another way; not making eye-contact with the man following me like a shadow, "So, please if you'll just… go give someone a pair of boobs or whatever it is you do" I sulk, "It -
He side-eye's me knowingly, "Or…" he drags on almost knowingly, cutting me off, "… would it be the fact that you mixed up a few names in bed last night?"
no…
No…
NO.
Almost as a reflex, I menacingly whirl on my heel to slam into the jarred Plastic Surgeon recoiling in shock, "What the hell Robbi –"
"Mark" I'm not sure if it was too loud or too soft, but the man shuddered; my stormy azure zoning in on his baffled gaze.
He doesn't respond, stunned into submission.
"What – " I lick my lips forcing a tight-lipped smile, " – what are you talking about?" I pronounce in a deathly still tone – completely oblivious to the questioning glances from passersby.
"Jeez Robbins –" he furrows his eyebrows scrutinizing me like I have an alien clawing out of my chest "- it's fine… relax, it- uhh - it happens to the best of us" he offers a watery smile attempting to lighten the tension.
"Mark." I repeat with a warning glower.
I can see him release a big exhalation and hesitantly straightening his posture, "Fine… Arizona –" he drops the fake Sloan smirk and takes a small step forward, " - the walls are thin, alright?" he relents.
He – he heard… No. I will cry now – I will. Or punch someone. Something. Punch Mark.
I guess he read my inner-monologue because I can see him visibly tense and take a step back raising his hands defensively on instinct as I rapidly close the distance between us, "Wait, wait – hold on Robbins n – not the face okay?" He winces in anticipation, dread painting his Greek-God-Like features, "Not the face! Please!" he wails.
I remain stone-cold, stiff, and without breaking my intense grip on his gaze, "Mark, I will say this once and only once –" I deliberately enunciate just to make sure he really gets me, "- you breathe a word of whatever the hell it was that you heard last night – to any living soul…" I tilt toward him ever-so-slightly, concentrating my blazing glower on his, "… I'll have you know that I grew up an army brat – I was taught to hit, to hit hard and fast… so that you only have to hit once"
We remain frozen in position.
I can see his face melt from shock to fear to genuine bewilderment, and then,
"Is it wrong that I'm a little bit turned on right now?" the words escape his mouth.
That. Is. It.
I literally feel the heat burn my ears as I clench my jaw, and just as I prepare myself to make my father very proud,
"Oooh wow – am I interrupting something?"
The trembling Mark Sloan and I, both snap to the side to face an intruding chuckle.
I think I'm a little bit bipolar. My emotional status has never changed this drastically.
"Callie" I breathe out in disbelief, knitting my eyebrows in blunder.
Perfect. Just… perfect.
"Arizona…?" she chortles doubtfully, her questioning gaze rallying between Mark and me.
"Torres…" Mark clears his throat, fixing the lapels of his leather jacket in an attempt to retrieve the last remnants of his waning manhood, "Morning" he takes this opportunity to create some safe distance between us.
"Morning" she narrows her eyes suspiciously, "Everything okay?" she turns to me.
I clear my throat and duck my gaze, finding the warm paper cup clenched in my hand abnormally interesting, "Totally… "
"O'kay then –" Callie says in a way that I know she doesn't believe me, then points expectantly behind us.
I just amplify my eyes in question.
"Umm…" she chuckles doubtingly, "… the – elevator -?" she extends a manicured finger, "Isn't that what…" she trails off.
I do the one thing I know to do in a situation like this, I widen my toothy smile.
Mark, who was apparently drowning in his coffee, makes a reappearance to push the button.
She narrows her eyes at the Plastic Surgeon but looks away when he doesn't react.
Oh god… can he leave? Can SHE leave!?
I try to push the images of me screaming Callie's name in orgasm out of my head.
The three of us just stand awkwardly waiting for the painfully slow metal box, sneaking curious glances at each other – to no avail.
"So…" Callie boldly decides to break the constricted, thick layer of silence, slightly turning to me, "… last night was great, we - we should do it again sometime"
Oh mother of fucking Jesus – kill me now.
I force a chortle, "Yeah – haha…"prodding the useless button once more, I throw a cursory glance toward her beautiful, fateful mouth, "Fun…" I mumble through my dimples.
"So… tonight?" she continues, but before I can respond, "Oh – crap, scratch that – I have Allegra's ballet recital tonight…" she pulls the strap of her very expensive looking bag along her shoulder.
That's good, that's good… see Arizona? The woman has a daughter, a daughter who also has father – a man father - don't you forget that…
"Oh… that's – that sucks…" I sigh, offering her an apologetic smile as the elevator makes a rather fashionably late appearance.
All three of us step in as I try to not rake my eyes along her body. She's wearing yet another high-waist pencil skirt tapering off at her knees, this time using it to tuck in a simple buttoned down white cotton shirt hugging that sorely gorgeous body rather insistently, insistently enough in fact, for me to see the outline of her bra pushing into the soft of her back... Yumm… I wonder how it would feel to - SNAP. OUT. OF. IT.
Of course, she forgets to fasten the top three buttons…
Just the 3 of us… wonderful…
"So… you wanna' go this Friday?"
"Hmm?" I look at her.
"Umm… drinks? This Friday?" she turns to me.
Say no, say no, say no…
"I'm game…" I hear Mark Sloan's scratchy voice exclaim.
I just snap at him with a WTF expression but Callie doesn't waver, "Ok great!" I can see a huge smile paint her face as she looks at Mark, "So the three of us?"
The first step to getting over someone is – well, like dieting – "out of sight out of mind". Now even if that means watching Callie go drinking with the world's biggest man-slut, so be it – I will look away from the delicious, creamy, velvety cheesecake – raspberry sauce and all…
"Well… I –" I start.
"We could go at around 8? Allegra will be with her grandparents so that's a non-issue" she continues undeterred, fingers swiping her smartphone.
"Umm I - I don't –" I eye an increasingly entertained Mark, and then look back to Callie, "- 8 is late-ish right…?" Say no, don't act like a menopausal 70 year old, "I – I mean it's not but –" I swallow, "- I – I have a Nissen Fundoplication at umm… at 8:30 and then I don't wanna – ya know?" Charming…
"Be late…?" Mark offers.
I shoot a threatening glare at him, "Yes… Mark. Be late." I say through a forced grin.
"Oh… okay –" she scrunches her brow as though solving a mental sum, "- then how is 7:30? I have an ex-fix which ends at around 7:15 so… I'd have to hustle –" she drawls out, still in thought, "- I'll just change really quickly and slip into some clothes, it's no problem" she finishes, shooting a victorious beam at me.
My eyes fall to her tinted juicy lips… and my immature brain can't help but go back to the taste of last night…
"Why?" It just slips out of my mouth but I try to cover it up with a bigger-than-necessary gulp of coffee.
"Umm…" she looks at me with furrowed eyebrows like I'm crazy, gaze flicking to Mark and then back to me, "… well –" she chuckles, "- you wouldn't want me naked now would you?"
I'm not so sure what happened at this point – I just know I feel scalding liquid burn down my chest.
Suddenly, the metal chamber is filled with a constricted cat-being-viciously-strangled like hack as I feel a part of the coffee spit out of my now wet lungs – yes, I said spit. And yes, it was in front of Calliope Torres.
"Oh – god Arizona –" I vaguely register Callie's gorgeous brown eyes widen with startled worry as the elevator dings.
"I –" I try to speak through the coughing fit as Callie grabs me by the arm and pulls me out the elevator, against the strong flow of passengers.
Mark follows suit, contentedly sipping his own beverage as we enter the closest exam room; if my vision weren't all messed up right now, I'd have witnessed the suggestive smirk playing across his lips. Jackass.
"You okay?" Callie's amplified eyes search my face as she soothingly rubs my back.
"Yea –" cough, "- Yup I –" I croak hoarsely, weakly turning to face her.
"Here –" she tucks a finger under my chin and urges it up, "- look up –"
I resist, rolling my eyes through a series of wheezes, "Uhg – Calliope – I'm not –" I clear my throat, pushing her hand away peevishly, "- I'm not a child…"
She just raises a sculpted eyebrow in typical Callie fashion, "Hmm…" she puckers her lips, "Coulda' fooled me…"
I narrow my eyes in an attempt to shoot her a threatening glower as I blink through my watery vision, "Shut up -" I snarl huskily, earning me a soft smirk, I wipe away the track of salty water spilling out of my eyes, "It –" I swallow, quelling the burning in my chest, "- it must have gone down the wrong pipe or something…" I rasp, avoiding her gaze.
"… Or something…" a cocky Mark Sloan's uninvited voice pipes in.
My head flicks to him in warning, witnessing an expression I would be delighted to smack the hell out of if Callie weren't staring right at me. Seriously… the only thing missing in his hands is the popcorn.
He just offers a sly smirk while I take a stab at my best evil eye. Two words – Dead. Meat.
"Jeez…" Callie interrupts yet again, "… what the hell is going on between the two of you?" her curious glare bouncing between the pair of us.
Just as the hair on the back of my neck stands sensing Mark opening his perverted trap to say something stupid, "Nope –" I force a dimpled smile, "-noth – nothing-" clearing my vocal cords, "- it's nothing Callie…" I step toward her.
"But –" she looks at Mark.
"But nothing…" I say lightly, bumping her shoulder with my arm to try and gauge her attention, "… I'll see you Friday kay'?"
Where the hell did that come from!?
She turns to me, unconvinced, "Uh well y–"
"8:30!"I blurt through a toothy grin; brushing my hair back.
She just seems perplexed, she opens her mouth to say something but,
"Oh – Robbins…" Mark interjects, "… I thought you said you had surgery at 8 or –"
Fuck. This. Man.
"Right –" I stop him with widened eyes and a fake-grin so wide it'd put the Cheshire Cat to shame, "- I meant se – seven, seven thirty… is what I meant…"
I gulp too loudly.
The room is pin-drop silent for a second.
I think she can hear my heart thud.
The three of us just play eye-hockey while I desperately search Callie's face to betray what the hell she bought and what she didn't.
It doesn't.
I have to fight an overpowering urge to have a small meltdown/anger-management episode at the evil surgery Gods taunting me.
Before I pee my pants from the tension, she licks her lips, "Sure…" pulling at the strap of her handbag, "… 7:30" she says hesitantly.
Whew…
"Ok!" I chirp, "YAYY!" a light bounce on my heels.
Tone it the hell down you moron.
Callie knits her eyebrows and looks at me with a conflicted smile playing across her lips; I don't recognize her expression but something about it makes my palms sweat.
A shrieking beep jolts me out of my weird perspiration. All our eyes snap to our hips out of habit, Callie digs through her purse.
"Its me –" Mark offers, adjusting the black object to read, "- dammit – Burn Unit – 911"
There is a God…
Callie bids him an acknowledging smile as he heads toward the door.
I just grin, "Don't let the door hit your huge head on the way out!" I snort.
He halts mid-way pulling the door open, then turns around with a knowing glint in his eyes and a sly smirk dancing across that mouth, "Oh Arizona…?"
I just raise my eyebrows challengingly, "Hmm?" arms folded across my chest arrogantly.
"You –" he clears his throat, gaze skimming to Callie and me again, "- you got some coffee –" he brings his hand up to his chin, thumb grazing the stubble and then points to me.
I feel my jaw drop and my eyes nearly pop out of my skull.
My Lord.
My gaze automatically collapses down to the floor as he walks out; quick enough to miss Callie smothering a snicker.
I suddenly feel like I'm 2 feet tall.
I'm not sure what I did here, I just remember me trying to 'subtly' wipe at my chin sneaking a few glances at Callie who seems to be pretending not to look at me.
Awkward has officially reached new heights.
I hear some rustling and a vague 'ahem' when I finally look up chancing a glance at the brunette.
She smiles sympathetically with this warmth in her eyes I'll never get used to, "Here…" she extends an arm with a pack of Kleenex.
"Th –" I clear my throat, taking the offending packet, " – thanks…" dropping my gaze again.
I think my cheeks are literally on fire – like bad sunburn kinda' fire.
"Arizona –"
"Hm…?" I throw a hasty look at her, halting the tissue in my hand.
"Its –" something alike to adoration ripples over her face, " –Umm…" she seems to hesitate for a moment before taking a step toward me.
I raise my eyebrows in question.
"Over –" she raises her hand, swiping the bottom of her plump lip, "- over here…"
I just slip out my tongue and swipe it over my bottom lip, retracing it with my thumb almost sheepishly.
I look up to her and clear my throat when I realize her eyes have glazed over.
Her gaze snaps up to me.
"Yup –" she clears her throat, blinking rapidly she tucks non-existent loose hair behind an ear, "- yeah - you got it…" she finishes weakly.
"Umm… thanks" I offer, embarrassment still not wearing thin.
"I – I should go I -" she looks down to her watch and back up to me, shaking her head, "- I have a bone " she stops, her eyes flicking to my mouth and back.
Um… what?
This time, I just look at her like she's completely lost it.
"Bone rep – hip, hip bone replacement surgery thing – hip – ya' know?" she rambles breathily.
This just got fun again.
"Hip?" I play; shaking off the last remnants of my mortification.
"Totally…" she smiles shakily, clearly uneasy about something, her gaze flicks around the room and back to me.
"Jive Turkey…?" I push with a smirk.
She opens her mouth in shock as her horrified eyes widen, "You didn't forget that" more a statement than a question.
I can practically feelthe previous tension in the room dissipate.
I run a free hand through my hair, chuckling genuinely, "That is something I will never ever in a million thousand gazillion years forget Dr. Torres…"
She blushes but offers a bright smile anyways.
I just laugh out loud, letting her off the hook, "Go be hip Calliope…" I show my dimples.
I love awkward Callie.
Oh shut up.
She turns around and offers a more at-ease smile, "So I'll see you Friday…?"
"See ya'" I beam wider.
Oh fabulous – Friday. Ciao to my diet plan.
A small wave of the hand and she disappears.
A/N: Thoughts?
I know this was a shorter chapter, originally, I had planned to include 'Friday Night' in with this, but I have my finals coming up and am going to have to take a break from all writing for a month and a half (which we all know wont happen :P) but nonetheless, I didn't want to do a hurried job at it, I have lots of fun plans for the next chapter. Unfortunately, it will be a little later, possibly a month away :/ Sorry guys, but it'll be worth the wait!
I'd love to hear your opinions on this one. It's the first time I've attempted to write a scene as intense and intimate as the first one, so please excuse me if it wasn't as effective as it should have been, but I'm still learning. So all mistakes are my own, although, suggestion wont hurt in that department.
Have a great day and don't forget to review! :)