Author Devylish
Title The Plan
Chap 10 Bad Enough
Fandom Grey's Anatomy
Pair Mark and Callie, Mallie
Words 1597
Disclaimer I own the laptop I'm using... that's it. Nothing else. Sigh.
Warning bit o swearing.
AN Unbeta'd

MALLIEmallieMALLIEmallieMALLIEmallie

Callie slipped into the kitchen with a quiet sigh.

Heading to the refrigerator, she pulled out the apple juice and topped off her wineglass. The glass was halfway to her lips when she realized that she'd just poured 'juice' of her own free will and volition. She shook her head in resignation before taking a sip. She'd had so much milk and juice and water in the past month that she'd practically forgotten what alcohol tasted like. But apparently, Mark's rules were rubbing off on her.

Much like the man himself was.

Setting her glass on the island, she reached for the knife and the saucers and began to slice and plate the dessert.

I'm lucky Mark hasn't forbidden me to eat sweets. She licked a dollop of chocolate frosting off of her finger. Of course, the man wasn't dumb; he probably didn't want to lose the use of his digits by trying to separate me from chocolate. Yeah… he's probably afraid I'll maim him if he takes away another one of my guilty pleasures: coffee, alcohol… if he takes away my sweets I'll go crazy. Callie smiled to herself. And there's also the fact that Mark seems to appreciate my curves. Which still kind of amazed her. All of the other women he'd paraded around the hospital during the past few years had been tall, slender, model thin, or short, petite, pixie-ish little things. While she was fairly tall, she definitely wasn't slender or petite. Still, Mark seems to appreciate every inch of me. Callie's smile broadened as she flushed pink. EVERY inch.

She was still smiling as she cut the final slice of the decadent chocolate cake – her mother's recipe – and gently placed it on its' plate. As she did so, something made her look up. There, leaning against the kitchen door, watching her, was Mark.

"What?" She crossed her eyes and looked at her nose, wondering if she'd managed to get frosting on it. "Did I drop some chocolate on me?" She stepped away from the counter and glanced at her chest and top. No chocolate in sight.

"No. Why?" Mark pushed away from the door and headed to the island.

"You were looking at me. I thought I had green feathers or something growing from the top of my head."

He reached across the dark marble counter and captured her chin with his fingers; lightly pulling her closer to him, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers… softly. She tasted sweet, and buttery. IT was probably the frosting, but, in his mind, this was what Torres always tasted like; smooth, soft, sugary, with just a hint of spice. He breathed against her lips, "I'm always looking at you Cal. You should be use to it by now."

She blinked slowly, refocusing her eyes on his handsome face. Oh God, I'm in trouble. I'm so in trouble. Why can't he be acerbic and sarcastic all of the time? THAT's what I'm use to! Crap!

Mark could see the escape plan formulating in Callie's head as soon as he spoke; her fight or flee instinct kicking in and heading resolutely for: 'flee'. (Fighting with him hadn't been working for her too well recently.) Backing away from the counter before she could retreat from him (either physically or metaphorically) he changed the topic. "Grey and Ted want coffee, Yang and Derek are with you and me on the milk thing. I figured I'd bring out the drinks and you can bring out the dessert?"

He was efficiently moving around their kitchen, pulling the milk out of the fridge, and pouring four heaping glasses of the white liquid when he realized that she was still standing silently behind him. He turned around, "Cal?"

Callie lov- really liked Mark's hands. Especially when they were active. Like they were now. Opening and closing the milk, pulling out the coffee mugs. He had great hands. Great, amazing, fabulous hands, and – they'd stopped moving. Crap! He'd said something to her, hadn't he? "Hmm? Wha-? Oh. Yeah. Right. Me – dessert, you – beverages. On it!" She forced herself to turn back to the counter. Balancing three of the plates, she headed out of the kitchen, "See you out there."

Mark looked down at his hands questioningly before shrugging and heading to the coffee pot.

MALLIEmallieMALLIEmallieMALLIEmallie

Two things were freaking Callie out. Well, two things in particular…. Tonight. One) she liked Meredith. The woman might be too skinny, and have questionable taste in friends (as evidenced by Izzy and George) but she was fucking funny. And, yeah, alright, kind of nice. Point A in Grey's favor – even though she was friends with O'Malley, Callie couldn't really hold that against her – she herself had married the dork (I'm really, really going to work harder at thinking positive thoughts about my ex. Really), so could she blame someone else for just talking to him? No.

Point B in Grey's favor – she'd had 2 and a half pieces of the Torres Chocolate Spice cake. Maybe Callie could fatten her up.

Point C in Grey's favor – the humor and the niceness. Tonight, between Christina's sharp wit and Meredith's dry humor, it was all Callie could do to keep herself from doubling over with laughter. As for the niceness, outside of the hospital, seated on the couch next to Derek, Meredith was at ease - relaxed. She wasn't the frantic, overwrought, twit that Callie had previously thought her to be. She was nice. Grey had even helped Callie clean up the remnants of the party at the end of the night; carrying plates and dishes and cups and glasses into the kitchen to soak in the hot sudsy water that Callie SO was not going to touch until the morning. Meredith helped Callie while the other four revelers discussed the relative merits of Eddie Izzard and Denis Leary (my vote is for Izzard).

So yeah, Meredith was freaking Callie out with her whole: being likable thing.

Freaky thing number two of the night.

Mark and her. Together. In front of other people. Being seen as a couple by people they knew. Being looked at like a couple. Dios mio, FEELING like a couple!

At least, she was feeling the coupley thing. She spent most of the night, when she wasn't being hostess extraordinaire to his host extraordinaire, curled up on a pillow on the floor, seated next to him; her shoulder pressed against his leg. Their proximity to one another created and supported the reality of their being 'together'. And as if proximity wasn't scary, freaky, weird enough, there was the touching. When Meredith zinged Christina with a comeback (again, WHO knew Grey had the cojones!?) Callie had laughed so hard she found herself laying her head against Mark's knee for support. Bad enough. But then Mark had casually placed his hand on the top of her head. His fingers soothingly massaging her scalp, rubbing and lulling her senses into – temporarily – not caring about the picture they were painting. A picture of togetherness.

Bad enough squared.

Wanna hear about 'Bad enough' in triplicate?

No one, except for her, seemed to think that Mark and she were an oddity. Meredith, once they got over the whole awkward 'I hate your friends and they all hate me' thing, didn't blink a questionable eye in their direction. Derek grinned at them every once and a while, but, grinning wasn't technically an offense. Ted, well, he was in on the whole dark, sordid plot, so his reaction didn't really count. Or so she told herself. Besides, strictly speaking, Ted kept his eyes focused on Yang the whole night; he probably wouldn't have noticed if she and Mark had had sex on the coffee table right in front of him. And Christina. Yeah… well, she was with Derek with the whole grinning stupidly thing.

But grinning stupidly apparently didn't equate with condemnation. No sarcastic comments, or whispered disapprovals escaped from any of them regarding how silly it was for Callie to be with Mark. Or how imperfect the two of them looked together. Nothing.

Callie sighed as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and took another look in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Mark liked it when she wore her hair down, but she couldn't keep doing things just because she thought he might like them. Thinking about him, them, was part of her problem. She had to start focusing on herself versus on him and how… how special he made her feel. She had to start focusing on herself versus on what it could be like for them – if it was all real.

Stupid-ass plan. Stupid-ass Mark Sloan seductive lips, seductive eyes, and fully-functioning manliness.

"Coming to bed?" Mark called out from their bedroom.

"Hold your horses horny boy. I'm brushing my teeth." Callie responded, unable to keep the smirk from touching her lips.

"The horses are lassoed and reined, but they're definitely biting at the chomps."

"Got it! I'll be right there! You'll appreciate the minty fresh breath!"

She heard him chuckle and she relaxed slightly.

Taking a deep breath Callie drifted toward the vanity counter. "Speaking of fully functioning manliness," she mumbled to herself. Callie looked down at the fancy stick that she'd peed on three minutes ago.

Shit.

Shit.

Fuck.

Crap.

Clapping her hand over her mouth Callie backed up until she hit the edge of the tub. Plopping down she shook her hands out and nervously blew out a puff of air.

I – we're – having a baby!