A reconciliation inspired by Adele's "Love In The Dark."
Please don't fall apart
I can't face your breaking heart
I'm trying to be brave
Stop asking me to stay
I can't love you in the dark
It feels like we're oceans apart
There is so much space between us
Baby, we're already defeated
Ah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
Everything changed me
It had all started because of Sofia. And — specifically — because of her coat.
As soon as Arizona had walked through the door of her house, she had spotted Sofia's coat. It was puffy, insulated, and the only warm coat she had.
And Arizona had meant to pack it in her bag for Callie's, and apparently, she hadn't. "Damnit," she muttered, grabbing it and heading back towards her car. Unfortunately, sleep would have to wait. She didn't want her baby to get cold.
When she knocked on Callie's door, however, no one answered, even though the familiar car was in the driveway. With the assumption that her family was either upstairs or couldn't hear her, Arizona let herself in with the key Callie had given her.
"Callie?" Arizona prompted once she shut the door behind her. "Sof?"
Silence.
Normally, she might have thought that they were on a walk or at the park, but it was late. It was dark. It was unlikely.
She made her way through the eerily quiet house, wishing it felt less unfamiliar. She inhaled a deep breath and smelled Callie, but that scent wasn't home to her anymore. It couldn't be.
Tiptoeing down the hallway, she peeked into her ex-wife's room. Nothing. No one. Unable to help herself, she walked inside, creeping towards the dresser. Her eyes perused the objects that sat there: a picture frame, a few bills, some personal items. Her hand came up to softly trace the dainty glass bottle of perfume that contained the sweet ambrosia that had always smelled like Heaven. She knew she was snooping, but she couldn't help herself. She opened Callie's antique wooden jewelry box and looked at her collection of earrings, and bracelets, and...
Her heart necklace? It was there. It was certainly neglected — tangled up with other unworn chains — but it was there. Callie hadn't thrown it out. And, as much as she knew it shouldn't have, that meant something to Arizona. It gave her a little hope.
Suddenly: CRASH. A voice. "Damn it!" Again: CRASH.
Arizona hurried towards the sound, eager to find her family and make sure that they were okay. Had that been Callie's voice?
She reached the stairwell at the back of the hall and hurried down into the basement. And, there, between two long shelves, was Callie. Sitting on the floor in defeat, fallen boxes all around her.
"Callie?" Arizona worried, hurrying towards her. "Are you okay?"
Brown eyes shot up towards the blonde. "Arizona? What are you doing here?" she accused.
"I came to drop off Sof's jacket, but no one answered," Arizona explained. She offered Callie her hand to help her to her feet.
Callie wiped at her tearful eyes, refusing to take the proffered hand. Instead, she stood up on her own. "How long have you been here?"
"Where's Sof?" Arizona deflected, looking around her. Her daughter was missing.
"At a sleepover," Callie sniffled.
Arizona looked down at all the clutter thrown around her ex-wife: a box of baby clothes — far too small for Sofia — a box puking a shattered china-set, and hundreds of scattered old papers and documents. Upon further inspection, she realized that she could read her own handwriting on some of the papers...
Was that one of the drafts of her wedding vows?
"I'll walk you out," Callie verbalized, interrupting Arizona's further snooping.
"I could help you clean u-"
Callie shook her head. Arizona being there — them being alone together — was a bad idea. Most nights, it might have been fine. But she had spent that night spent wallowing over her failed marriage and — more specifically — over Arizona.
So her ex-wife couldn't be there. That would make it too easy for Callie to do something that certainly was not a good idea.
The fact was: she was lonely. She was sad. She missed the lifelong dream she had wanted to live. She missed a genuine and happy life with Arizona. That had been all she had ever wanted and, unfortunately, it hadn't been enough. It still wasn't enough.
"It's fine, Arizona."
Arizona looked up, meeting testy dark eyes. The truth was that she didn't want to leave. Callie looked like she was on the verge of collapse, and all the blonde wanted to do was take care of her. The way she used to. The way she had promised to, once upon a time. "I know. But since I'm already here…" she began, pointedly picking up a pile of scattered papers from the cold linoleum floor.
God, Callie thought. She's always so stubborn. It was so damn endearing that it infuriated her. She knew Arizona would endear her for the rest of their lives, and that simply wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to be left always wanting.
But, forcing the thoughts into the back of her mind, Callie quickly followed suit, picking items up off the floor and throwing most of them into a garbage bag to bring to Goodwill.
She stopped, however, when Arizona lifted something up: the vows she had shared privately the night after their wedding. The sweet, personal, tear-inducing vows that Callie had copied onto nice papyrus and framed.
"I can't believe you're my wife," Arizona marveled.
Callie pouted. "You're stalling."
"I'm not," Arizona insisted devotedly, leaning over to give her a kiss. "I really just can't believe it."
Finally, she began, "Calliope Torres…" She paused, her dimples deepening as she stared into wide brown eyes. "God," she laughed. "I really, really can't believe it."
Callie's own smile widened with love, and then, Arizona began reading.
"Calliope Iphigenia Torres,
You know I've never been able to see you sad. Even when I first introduced myself at Joe's, all I wanted was to see your smile. And after only a few dates with you, I realized how long I'd been looking for you without even knowing it. I fell in love with you fast — so fast that I didn't want to tell you right away —"
She paused, her eyes flickering up towards Callie's. "And I know you felt the same," she added.
Callie twinkled back at her. It was the truth. She had known she had loved Arizona within a month of dating, but she hadn't said anything. George had taught her that it was often better to wait. To protect her heart a little.
It was something she had never needed to do with Arizona.
"But I knew," Arizona continued. "I knew, and I told your dad even before I told you. I told him I loved you and would protect you because I — just like he raised you to be so strong and caring— my dad raised me to protect the people I love. To be a good man in a storm. So whatever happens, whatever arguments we have, whatever tears we shed, however many times we dislike each other, I will keep loving you every second. I will protect you and take care of your heart. I will make you smile every chance I get. And I will be your good man in a storm for the rest of our lives. I promise."
Arizona kept holding up the frame, waiting for an answer. She hoped Callie wasn't going to toss it like everything else, but she prepared herself for the reality. They were divorced, after all. It was a miracle her ex-wife had kept it at all.
"I, um…" Callie held out her hand, softly offering, "I'll take that." She couldn't just throw it out. Not in that moment or ever.
Arizona handed it to Callie, watching as she carefully set it back on the shelf, far from the garbage bag.
She exhaled a sigh of relief. Even if Callie was going to throw it away, she was grateful the brunette was at least tactful enough to wait until after she had left.
They picked up everything else in silence, with Arizona stealing looks at Callie out of the corner of her eye and with Callie doing the same, unbeknownst to either of them.
Callie was sad, and Arizona was there, and she missed her. And that was dangerous. Callie knew that.
Straightening up to face the blonde after she picked up the final few onesies, she offered, "Thanks. For helping, I mean."
Arizona smiled uneasily, nodding, "Sure. Anytime."
They faced each other for one long, awkward moment, and then Arizona decided to be brave, noticing the sad look in Callie's eyes.
"Callie…" she began.
Brown eyes snapped up, fearful of the upcoming words.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly. "You know I'm still here for you. If there's anything I can do to help…"
Callie shook her head. "I'm okay," she promised weakly. "I'll be fine." She would be. One day. Maybe.
Arizona's eyes remained fixed on her, and Callie fidgeted under those watchful blues. The way Arizona always seemed to look into her had never ceased to terrify her. She felt naked and exposed.
She cleared her throat. "I'll, um. I'll walk you upstairs."
Arizona nodded, making her way up the creaky wooden stairs with Callie following close behind.
Upstairs, she reached for the front door. Finally gathering up enough courage to break the uncomfortable silence, she began, "I guess I'll see you-"
"There's one thing," Callie interrupted. Shit. What was she doing?
Arizona's mouth shut closed, her eyes widening in expectation.
Callie licked her lips. "There is one thing," she repeated, her voice deepening. "You could do to help."
Arizona felt her heartbeat speed up. She knew that tone of voice. She knew the neediness behind it.
And she knew she needed to run to her car and drive far, far away.
But she didn't.
Instead, in a quiet voice, she prompted, "What can I do?" She was willing to do anything to wipe that mournful expression from her ex-wife's face. Seeing Callie looking so miserable tore her to pieces.
"You can stay," Callie breathed. "I just — I feel bad. So you can stay." She offered up a small, shy smile. "And make me feel good."
Callie was proposing sex. They had hardly touched into two years, and Callie was proposing sex.
Arizona knew she needed to go. She needed to go and drive far, far away. But she didn't.
Instead, she stayed. She had offered to help, after all.
And so she did.
It was only supposed to happen that one night.
One night of don't think, just do. One night of falling back into each other. One night of quickening breaths, ferocious mouths, and thrusting hips.
One night of fuck, Arizona, yes's and oh my god, Callie's. One night of primal sex and desire.
The sex wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. It was wanting and needing, and there was nothing soft about it. It was making use of one another's bodies, not making love.
It was fast. It was hard. It was distant. It was orgasm after thoughtless orgasm, but never a meeting of lips. It was an unspoken rule: close but not that close. Not close enough.
Arizona had understood Callie's unspoken terms almost immediately: her full lips could latch onto Callie's neck, her breast, her swollen bundle of nerves but never onto plump lips. Callie's body was hers for the taking, but she couldn't kiss her.
They brought each other to orgasm again and again but never, ever kissed. Kissing was reserved for the people Callie still cared about, Arizona assumed. Kissing was saved for people who were together. Who loved each other. Whose love hadn't been destroyed by resentment and life's harsh circumstances.
Not being able to taste plump lips destroyed Arizona, but she understood. Callie had long moved on. They were just sex-friends who screwed on lonely nights. Nothing more.
It was only supposed to happen that one night. One night of countless orgasms, of sweat, of buildup, of release, and of falling asleep in their respective beds — their bodies sated and their hearts yearning for so much more.
It was only supposed to happen that one night, until it happened again, a week later. It only happened once a week, at first. Then, once every few days. Then, almost nightly.
After Sofia went to sleep, one of them softly knocked on the other's front door. And the next few hours were bliss.
Orgasm, orgasm, orgasm. Again and again and again. Fast and hard and sweaty. It wasn't romance but momentary catharsis. Neither woman was gentle. Each knew exactly what both she and her ex-wife needed to reach her peak, and fast. Rubbing and thrusting and biting and sucking, again and again and again.
And, then, at Callie's, Arizona offered to go home, and Callie didn't stop her.
And, then, at Arizona's, Callie said she was going home, and she refused to stay.
"You don't have to go," Arizona whispered into the black night, about a month after their sexual trysts first began.
"I should," Callie countered, harshly throwing on her shirt.
"Callie…" Arizona pleaded. She yearned for so much more with her ex-wife. She yearned for the woman she loved — and not just sexually. She wanted every part Callie, not just physically. She wanted every piece. Every thought. Every laugh. Every tear. Just her body wasn't enough. And, often, it just left her feeling more lonely.
But Callie just shook her head. She couldn't stay. She and Arizona were done. Emotionally, anyway, they were done. Even though Callie still loved her, they were done. They had to be. Even if a part of her — a big part — still wanted and needed Arizona.
Because Arizona had only wanted and needed her before when life had gotten tough. And that alone hadn't been enough, and it still wasn't enough. So she and Arizona were done. Even more so in that moment, given that two years had passed, and Arizona had surely moved on. They were done, and Callie couldn't allow those lines to blur by staying and sleeping over.
Arizona was her ex-wife. Her…sex buddy. Nothing more. And no amount or wanting more would change that. It certainly hadn't before. Love alone wasn't enough.
It was only supposed to happen that one night, but it happened again and again. Night after night, they ended up in bed together. And — with more force each time — Arizona quietly begged for more. More than just sex. More than Callie's lips, fingers, and body.
Her body wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted Callie. Every piece.
Collapsing onto the bed, blue eyes locked with black embers. She watched Callie's chest heave in an attempt to inhale oxygen, and a hint of a smile teased Arizona's lips.
Carefully watching her ex-wife from a foot away, Callie's eyebrows furrowed at her altered expression. "What?" she worried self-consciously, noticing her easy smile.
"You're beautiful."
Callie's mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, like a fish under water. She felt her face bleach white. She felt her stomach flutter at the words, and that was the exact opposite of what she wanted. Finally, she gulped, "I should go."
"Stay," Arizona whispered. "Please."
Callie shook her head, desperately scrambling out of Arizona's bed. She couldn't stay there a second longer. All she wanted was to fall into her ex-wife's arms, and that was just so wrong. They were done. Arizona was done. Staying would only bring more pain later.
She threw on her shirt, her jeans, and her shoes. Finally, she met the blue eyes that tracked her as she headed for the door.
"Callie…"
"Arizona, I'm trying to be brave," Callie snapped. She just wanted Arizona to keep her eyes off her so she could leave. She needed to leave and drive far, far away. Towards safety. Towards sureness. She took a deep breath, working hard to soften her voice. "Please," she beseeched. "Stop asking me to stay."
And then she was gone, leaving Arizona in her misery.
It was too hard. All of it. She couldn't love Callie in the dark — not the way she had been trying to, anyway. She couldn't express that love without holding her and kissing her and making love with care rather than brute force alone. She was tired of feeling like they were oceans apart, even with a mere few inches between their lips and no distance between their pulsating bodies. She was tired of feeling like there was so much space between them, even when there wasn't. She was tired of feeling defeated.
And, in her own bed, Callie also was tired of feeling defeated. She was tired. Tired of falling apart. Tired of her heart breaking every time she got up to go. She wanted so much more.
She didn't want mutual lust in the dark with Arizona. She wanted love. She wanted a life together.
"Valentine's Day is a stupid holiday," Arizona pouted, tossing back her glass of wine.
"You said you used to love it," April countered.
"Before I was divorced!" Arizona snarled.
"Why don't you call Callie?" April suggested. "It seems like this whole sex-friend thing is working for you." In truth, it didn't seem it was working that well, though. If it were, she doubted that Arizona would be at Joe's on Valentine's Day, complaining about the holiday.
"It's not!" Arizona slammed down her glass in frustration. "Since the last time, Callie won't stop staring at me. It's been three days, and no words. Just staring, every time she sees me. She hates me."
"Arizona, she doesn't hate you," April argued, rolling her eyes. How was her best friend so clueless?
"She does!" the blonde insisted. "She-"
"Arizona, for God's sake!" April began, her patience lost. "Callie doesn't hate you! She loves you. That's why she stares at you. Because she can't keep her eyes off the woman she loves."
Welp, Arizona never expected having her ass handed to her on a silver platter by April Kepner. Her eyes bulged and her jaw dropped.
"Of course, she's never going to say anything because she doesn't feel like she can! She doesn't think you feel the same, but-"
"But I do," Arizona breathed, her eyes flashing up to meet her best friend's. "I love her. It's her who doesn't want me."
"She does want you," April promised. God, everyone knew that they still loved each other. Except for Callie and Arizona themselves, it seemed.
Arizona shook her head. She wasn't sure that was something she could believe.
"Go tell her how you feel," April urged. "It's worth a shot."
In the twenty-five steps it took to reach Callie's front door from Arizona's car, she was soaked. The rain had been pouring the entire week, and it showed no signs of letting up. It only continued to rain harder as time went on.
She dialed Callie's number and raised her cellphone up to her ear. She knew they had agreed not to meet that night, but she felt like she needed to see Callie. It was Valentine's Day, and she needed to tell Callie the truth: that she still loved her and wanted everything with her.
Callie picked up the phone. "Arizona?"
"Hi." Arizona shifted on her feet. It was late. She knew that. Still, it didn't stop her from continuing, "I'm outside."
Immediately, she heard steps making their way towards her from inside. She took a step back in preparation, shivering in her drenched clothes.
Callie swung open the door, wearing worn pajamas and no makeup. "What are you doing here?"
Arizona gulped. "I, um. I don't know," she muttered inarticulately. In truth, she did know. She just didn't know how to say the words.
Callie released an exasperated breath but, to Arizona's surprise, she didn't shut the door in her face. Instead, she opened it wider, motioning the shivering blonde inside. "Come in. It's freezing."
Gratefully, Arizona stepped inside. She was in. That was a start.
As soon as the door closed behind them, however, Callie pushed her up against the front door. Her lips latched onto a long neck, her hands coming up to grab a soft waist.
"We…weren't going…to meet up…tonight," Callie vocalized between insistent neck kisses. She reveled in the sweet taste of milky skin, in its smoothness, and in the way she could feel Arizona's pulse jackhammer under her touch.
"I…uh," Arizona moaned, her hands fisting into thick black hair. This so hadn't been part of her game plan, but she was human and she couldn't completely ignore the physical effect Callie had on her. "I…"
Callie altered her position, shoving her thigh between each of Arizona's.
"God, Callie," Arizona groaned, wanting more than anything to pull Callie's head back and kiss her with everything she had.
Callie ripped off Arizona's shirt, throwing it haphazardly down onto the hardwood floor. She unclasped her bra, leaving her ex-wife half-naked and vulnerable.
"Wait." Arizona pushed against Callie's shoulders, needing space free of distraction.
Callie pulled back, looking like a scolded puppy.
Carefully, Arizona whispered, "I want to talk to you." She knew it was a lot to ask for — especially on Valentine's Day, at 11 o'clock at night, from her ex-wife, but still. She had to try.
Callie shook her head emphatically. She didn't want to talk. Talk had gotten them nowhere in the past. She was tired of talking. She wanted action. She wanted to do.
And, well, she wanted to do Arizona.
Because talking would just make her fall in love. Knowing Arizona better would make her fall more in love. She couldn't help it. She was amazed by her and didn't want to be.
Because then she remembered how, as much as she loved Arizona, she couldn't show it. And Arizona didn't share that love. Not anymore.
So sex was easier. Sex was easy. It was good, and it felt good. It was easy. Until it wasn't.
"Come to bed with me, instead." Callie implored darkened blue eyes, daring Arizona to say no.
And, of course, she didn't. "Okay," she nodded. "Let's go."
Hours later, they collapsed onto the sweat-soaked sheets, their bodies still shaking, their ears still ringing, and their centers still radiating with their blissful simultaneous orgasms from moments before.
Instinctively, they turned to face each other, each woman curling onto her side.
Callie offered a blissed out smile, and Arizona's eyes fell onto her lips.
Callie shuddered at the evident desire and care she saw in Arizona's eyes. She couldn't deny Arizona felt something for her. She didn't know what it was, but she knew there was something there. She could see it. In her eyes. In her soul. Arizona still cared.
Slowly, Arizona moved closer, and she swiped back a wet lock of black hair with her nimble fingers. She moved in closer, closer, closer. Close enough that their naked breasts touched. She felt her nipples harden and her body line with goosebumps at the feeling. She felt herself stop breathing.
And then she brushed Callie's lips with her own.
Callie inhaled a sharp breath, immediately pulling away from her ex-wife. "What are you doing?" she accused. They didn't kiss. Not anymore. Arizona knew that.
"Kissing you," Arizona answered simply. It was all she wanted to do. She just wanted something more than endless sex and pleasure. She wanted something meaningful.
"What?" Callie shook her head. "No. Uh. We don't-"
"We don't kiss?" Arizona pressed indignantly. "We used to." She knew she was playing dumb. She knew the unspoken rule. But, suddenly, it just seemed so crazy.
She loved Callie, and yet she couldn't kiss her. Callie loved her, and yet she wouldn't kiss Arizona. They were just wasting away. Wasting time. Wasting their potential at happiness. And for what?
"When we were together!" Callie argued. "When you-"
"When I was in love with you?" Arizona interrupted. "When I assured you that I wanted you and needed you?"
Again, Callie just shook her head. It was no use, rehashing old wounds. She had forgiven Arizona for everything months ago. She had recovered. She had come to terms with loving Arizona but not being able to truly love her — to show her, to tell her, to have her. She had accepted a consolation prize: Penny, at first. Then sex with Arizona, and nothing more.
"Callie," Arizona breathed. "We used to kiss even when we were furious with each other. And, now, we're different people, we're happy, we've forgiven each other, and you won't even let me kiss you during or after sex?"
"Arizona…" Callie warned.
"Callie," Arizona countered. "I..." she paused, as sudden paralyzing fear came over her.
"What?" Callie pressed. As much as she hated herself for it, she was eager to hear Arizona's every thought.
Arizona pursed her lips, weighing her options before finally admitting the truth. "I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you always. Every second."
Callie felt her heart take off in her chest. All she could see, and hear, and smell, and taste was Arizona. She was in her bones. "But you…" She paused, shaking her head. It was too much to take in. The idea of Arizona loving her. It was a possibility Callie had shut down long before.
Arizona hand came up to reverently brush her thumb across a smooth caramel cheek. She sighed in sympathy, needing her ex-wife to understand. "You're good for more than sex, Calliope."
Callie's breath hitched at the words, and hesitantly, she lifted her hand to Arizona's waist, lightly rubbing her skin through the silky sheets.
Reassured by Callie's innocent touch, Arizona impassionedly continued, "It's been two years, and I want us to start over. To love each other." She exhaled a deep breath. "You deserve so much more than just this." She motioned between their bodies. "You deserve all the love I have to give." She loved Callie more than she could comprehend. Her love was all-consuming. But that meant nothing if she couldn't show it and had to keep hiding it away and burying it. She was tired of being afraid. It was time. It was her turn to take a risk for love, so that was what she was doing for Callie. Because Callie deserved it. And she was so, so worth the risk.
The palm of Callie's hand caressed up and down Arizona's ribs as she digested her words: Arizona loved her, just as much as Callie loved Arizona.
Arizona wanted a life with her. Even after two years of divorce and two months of seemingly "mindless" sex, she wanted it all with Callie.
And Callie was certain that she still wanted everything with Arizona.
"I've always been in love with you," Callie explained in return, eager to show just how similarly she felt herself. "I never really stopped, and that's why I wanted this to be strictly sex. I thought you were done, and I didn't want to get hurt."
Arizona shook her head. "I'm can't just be done. Not with you."
Callie offered a small smile. "Yeah," she breathed. "Me neither." How could she be? Arizona was the most brilliant thoughtful, kind, intriguing woman she knew. Sometimes, she could be the most infuriating, too, but ultimately, that just made her love the blonde even more.
Ultimately — as much as she had been pretending otherwise — Arizona was the only person with whom she wanted to spend her life. Arizona was the one for whom she was made, and that had always been true, but especially right then.
They had healed. They had matured. They had forgiven. And all that remained was endless love for each other.
"What does this mean?" Callie questioned. "I mean, we love each other, but what happens now?"
"What do you want to happen?" Arizona prompted. She knew that she wanted Callie — an entire life with her — but she needed to know whether her ex-wife desired the same thing. She needed to know whether — after everything — they were finally on the same page.
"I want you," Callie countered immediately. "To be with you, to live with you, to love with you. Everything."
Listening to the words she had yearned to hear for so long, Arizona briefly closed her eyes, committing them and the moment to memory. Callie wanted her. Callie wanted to be with her, to live with her, to love with her, everything.
She felt it. The reciprocity of love, of care, and of value. They were on equal footing. They were on the same page.
Tightening her grip on Arizona's waist, Callie pushed herself closer, her naked body lightly rubbing against the smaller woman's.
Arizona shivered. She had touched almost every inch of Callie's skin during the last two months, but it felt different right then, given their revelations. She had only touched her sexually before, but at that moment, it was tender.
She brought her hand back up to a caramel face, reminded of her need to express her love and to feel Callie's lips against hers.
"Are you scared at all?" Callie whispered fearfully, her eyes becoming hooded at the sweet sensation of Arizona's thumb rubbing up and down her skin.
"Of us?"
Callie nodded.
Arizona smiled. "I'm terrified," she admitted. "But I also know we'll make it. This time, I won't let you go."
Callie nodded solemnly. She felt exactly the same way. "Not ever," she amended.
"Not ever," Arizona repeated. And then, again, her eyes flitted over those full dark lips.
Callie offered a little smile, no longer blind to the definite proof of just how much Arizona wanted her. And, God, did she feel the same. "I love you," she promised. "And I'm going to kiss you."
Arizona released a long breath, about to let out a playful finally!, but Callie's lips interrupted her before she could. Callie engulfed her senses as soft, insistent lips met her own, fitting together perfectly. Arizona eagerly molded her own to her ex-wife's, parting her lips to gratefully run her tongue along Callie's. The brunette moaned, and Arizona shivered as the sound reverberated against her own mouth. She pulled Callie harder against her, desperate to become one. Fully.
Finally, what felt like a lifetime later, they pulled away — but not far. Baby blues seared into chocolate browns, and then Callie leaned in, placing a kiss on each of Arizona's soft cheeks, on her forehead, on her nose, and finally, on her lips.
Those lips. Thank God she could finally touch them, again. And forever.
Arizona smiled serenely, never feeling more herself than she did in that moment. Callie just…managed to see her. All of her. And love her still. Just as she loved all of Callie.
Arizona looked up at the clock. It was late. So late that it was almost morning. "You going to kick me out of bed, again?" she prompted jokingly. Or, really, half-jokingly. Just because she and Callie had decided to be together didn't mean it began that night, necessarily, did it? She knew they would have to explain their reconciliation to Sofia, after all.
"No," Callie growled at the mere idea. "Never." She paused, letting her solemn truth sink in. "We should probably sleep, though."
Arizona nodded, her tired eyes closing instinctively.
"Turn around," Callie whispered tenderly, her strong fingers rubbing against Arizona's back. One of the things she had missed most of all had been sleeping with her body curled around the blonde's. She had always loved being able to hold and protect her, even in sleep.
Arizona looked at Callie with surprised wide eyes for a moment, then she turned around to lay on her opposite side. And, as soon as she felt Callie's hot, naked body meld against her own, she closed her eyes.
She reached for a caramel hand, entwining their palms, and she scooted herself impossibly further into Callie's embrace. She was home. Finally.
Callie closed her eyes. "Goodnight."
"Really good night," Arizona corrected, and she felt Callie's hot breath tickle her shoulder as the bigger woman chuckled appreciatively. The night had been good. It had been life-changing.
"Oh, and Callie?" Arizona added.
"Hmm." Callie was close to sleep, and perhaps to the best sleep she had ever experienced. She had never felt more at peace and at home.
Arizona grinned, even as her own eyelids shut with exhaustion. "I love you. Happy Valentine's Day."
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