title from taylor swift's "how you get the girl"

Arizona played with her drink, making the ice tingle against the borders of the glass, as it warmed in her hand.

Teddy insisted she had to go to her fake wedding, even naming her fake bridesmaid, and promising to be by her side, making sitting in the middle of a party full of her ex-girlfriend's friends more bearable. But she had fully ditched after the second shot of vodka, instead laughing with her husband, to whom she insisted she didn't have any feelings for.

So now, she was sitting alone, pretending not to stare at Callie as she danced with Mark.

Of course, she was dancing with him.

Callie didn't seem as angry and annoyed by her presence as when she first showed up at her door, but they hadn't talked much past run-ins in hallways and elevators, and brief, professional conversations, when they had surgeries together. The heartfelt confessions and angry shouting stopping after the first few days, replaced by brief apologies and rejected invitations. Arizona couldn't blame her. She left, walked out, broke her trust, and both of their hearts in the process.

Callie was lovely, and kind, and in her words turned her world upside down for her, yet Arizona still decided to leave her in the middle of an airport. It was the right choice, if they had stayed together the resentment would only grow, butchering any chance for them to be happy together.

She sometimes called it wrong, like the first time she declined a date with her. But preventing broken promises before they broke, saving Callie the trip to realize how much she would regret it wasn't one of those situations. It was the right thing to do, at the wrong time.

Because she couldn't erase Callie's face when she last saw her, or how much she missed her, or how desperately she wanted to share every new achievement with her. Arizona couldn't deny how hopelessly she had fallen.

So, she came back, and didn't hope for it to be easy. For all her mistakes to be forgiven in a heartbeat. But for the past weeks, the dull ache had grown, the more she saw Callie, had her so close yet impossible to reach, only aggravating her longing. She wanted to talk, to apologize, to have the slimmest of the chances of having the life she so adored back, the life Callie was a part of.

Because she loved Calliope, she loved her so much that she couldn't stay in Africa and pretend everything was fine. Not when her heart felt as if it was constantly breaking, every act of kindness reminding her of her ex-girlfriend.

Callie always cared so much, and loved to much, it was something Arizona was utterly in love with. And she saw a version of her that wasn't the nightmare of Hopkins, the broken person who escaped and ran away, the one who couldn't let anyone in, the one Nick had to take care of for a long time.

She saw the good, the perky surgeon who was a good man in a storm. The version of herself Arizona so desperately wanted to be.

And she might've believed that she was her, that after years of trying, she was finally a good person. Someone who could do so much change, offer new possibilities to people who wouldn't have them otherwise, someone who could truly, selflessly love someone else. But she tore her relationship apart, and bailed on the grant too, and now it was difficult to even consider the idea of being good.

Arizona couldn't keep her eyes off of her, as she took another sip, alcohol burning as she drank.

Callie was stunning. Her hair was shorter, with streaks of blue, and her smile as she danced, so free, made it impossible to look away. She was mesmerizing, magnetic, and- shit. She was looking back at Arizona, waving a hand, a small gesture that worked wonders to make Arizona flush out of embarrassment, who was suddenly too interested in the decorations Kepner and Henry insisted on putting on almost every wall of the bar.

She felt someone tap her shoulder, almost choking on her drink, half awestruck by how quickly her ex-girlfriend had showed up by her side.

"Hey, I know we haven't been talking lately. I haven't been talking to you," Callie said, straight to the point, "but, do you want to dance with me?"

It was a question so simple, one they had asked each other before, but it seemed surreal.

She should probably say no, not jeopardize their unstable relationship and the small progress they made. She should excuse herself, not take the risk of dancing with Callie when her brain already felt fuzzy, thoughts stumbling against themselves.

At her hesitation, Callie extended a hand, offering, "we can have a truce, for tonight."

She didn't know what to think, how to take the offering. They weren't friends, had never been, and by what happened during their last break up, she was expecting her ex-girlfriend to take the route of hating her, avoiding her in the hallways, until they were ready to try again. She wasn't hoping for friendly chats, or peace offerings, more prepared for Callie to scream at her about staring too much.

Arizona knew pretending nothing was wrong could break her heart, she wanted to apologize for staring too much, and go back to her pitiful, hopeless night and glass of gin, but instead, she echoed a weak, "for tonight", as she took her hand.

It wasn't the first time she followed Callie's lead, it obviously wasn't, but it was the first since coming back, and it made her feel the closest to normalcy in a long time.

Before the merger, even before she first met Carlos Torres, Callie had invited her over, Cristina taking a night shift so they could have the apartment for themselves. And maybe with someone else it would've gone differently, but she cared about her, against her best judgment, she was falling, fast. So the night ended with living room antics, dancing with the music a little too loud.

It wasn't like other dates, it wasn't like Julie, or Heather or Tia. And it made her stomach flutter, and her face hurt from how much she was smiling. It was cozy and ordinary, no big fancy plans, or expensive wine. It was something so unremarkable, that she wasn't sure why her heart would be so fast. All pretenses abandoned when it was just them, together, taking comfort in the start of something that could mean everything.

Callie started guiding her to where the couples were dancing. Somewhere in the background Derek held hands with Meredith, and Mark and Lexie moved together. Teddy and Henry, in full fake groom and fake bride attire, giggled in a corner, too engrossed in whatever joke one of them just told to notice what was happening around them.

The sudden marriage of her best friend with a patient had been a surprise, a perfect outlet to deflect Webber's attention from the mess she had created by leaving and coming back, but not something she could've expected. But Henry was sweet and kind, complete with goofy smile and the same bad sense of humor Teddy possessed, and he talked about her with a certain mix of admiration and appreciation that couldn't go unnoticed.

Arizona really hoped that Teddy would stop being as stubborn and admit that maybe, something was happening, and it wasn't something bad.

Callie tightened the hold on her hand, as she made Arizona spin once and then twice, laughing at her dazzled expression. Arizona let herself indulge in the closeness of her, stumbling some steps, her coordination not as good as she first hoped it would be. It wasn't the elegant, delicate type of dance that Callie had so complained about when talking about the galas her father held, it was clumsy, filled with giggles and missteps.

Having her so close was almost intoxicating, and Arizona wasn't a very good dancer to start with.

Nick had tried to convince her to dance with him a few times, offering to teach her how to waltz before prom but she didn't want to make a fool out of herself, and didn't consider herself able to move with the grace it would require. Most of her experience came from clubs, having gone to quite a few in order to pick up hook ups during her time in college, but it wasn't the slow rhythm that was slowly setting, the swaying from left to right in a motion so intimate, that she could feel her heart speeding up.

"I'm sorry," she said, just barely above the sound of the music.

"It's okay, you didn't step on me," Callie promised, smiling.

Smiling at her.

Except that Arizona wasn't apologizing just for that, it wasn't only the bad moves and horrible tempo. It was the fact that they hadn't been able to be so close in too long, that in leaving she had created a wreckage.

And discussions about babies and wallpaper colors were over the second she decided to take the grant.

Callie's touch was soft, barely lingering, tickling when her fingertips caressed Arizona's back, between her spine and the fabric of the dress. They were leaning close, as she could easily wrap her arms around her ex-girlfriend if she decided to do so.

She bailed. And she left, as she had done more times than what she could count before. Except that she never cared about keeping in contact with all of those friends, she barely even kept contact with the people from her residency, or the friends from outside the hospital, or Nick for what mattered, but a few days apart from Callie were enough to make her descend into tears.

Not even the comfort of her work and the distraction of a very busy schedule could keep her from the heartache of missing her. Of desiring to be back in the apartment, planning a future for the both of them to share.

Arizona had a night, or maybe less, of dancing with her, holding her in her arms. So terribly adoring and perfectly miserable, as at any point the spell could be broken, except that now she had a glimpse of how happy she could've been if she realized it sooner.

And now that she realized, it terrified her. It was beyond frightening how in love she felt, how she would change her world just to include her, how easily she would've chosen her above everything.

She got closer, almost resting her head on Callie's shoulder, but instead she leaned closer to her ear.

"You look very pretty tonight, Calliope," she whispered.

If the world was a little more perfect, or her life wasn't a constant string of tragedy, it was the moment when they would kiss. When, finally, all the dreams of weeks of wishing would become true, and they would be on their way to a happy ever after.

But Callie froze in place, almost flinching.

And when Arizona looked at her, there wasn't any love, or care, or the smile she had worn for half of the night. She was extremely still, frowning slightly at her words, and it felt like a new crack was opened in her chest.

She didn't leave, not even taking half a step back, or creating space between them. But the short-lived moment was over. They weren't the perfect, awesome couple. They weren't back when things were happier.

They were in the middle of Joe's, pretending that Callie didn't hate her.

Arizona should've known it, she probably, somehow, did. Because she would've felt the same if she was Callie. She already despised herself for leaving. She had been so stupid to think that just because they could spend some time together that would mean that everything was solved and that nothing was as bad as it seemed.

But Callie had a slight frown on her face that she couldn't hide, not when she was still so close to her.

The same person who had seen her in such a way that it made her heart beat out of her chest, with such a care that Arizona thought that maybe, maybe it was going to be it, their forever happiness, was now staring at her, the corner of her lips turned slightly down.

She hated her.

The shocked expression was enough to force Arizona to disentangle from her, afraid her ex-girlfriend would hear how fast her heart was beating. Because Callie, who cared so much, and loved so much, most likely resented her and not only in the protecting-her-heart way, but rather genuinely disliked the person Arizona had become to her eyes.

She had ruined everything, and there she had her confirmation. Never during their break up or fights had Callie seemed so distant, so deceived. She shouldn't have accepted to dance, and she shouldn't have said at as if nothing was wrong. She shouldn't have left to begin with.

"I- I need to go," Arizona said, hurriedly, "I think Teddy is calling me."

Without a second thought, she turned around.

How could she be so, so stupid?

It was a bad excuse, because clearly no one was calling her name, and unless they had some telepathic link thing going on with Teddy, Callie should've been able to hear it too. But she needed to disappear. Or else she would start crying and she couldn't put that on her.

Because she had flinched back and grimaced at a comment, and Arizona never felt so embarrassed about misreading a situation, about acting the wrong way. The realization that Callie might never want her again, never love her as before, slowly drowning on her. And she felt so stupid for ever believing that she could make the big gesture of coming back and have a happy, movie ending.

It wasn't what happened to her.

Arizona only realized where she was when she reached the bar, now less crowded.

Maybe she should confront Callie and apologize, explain that she had let herself be carried on by the alcohol and the memories. Make an absolute idiot out of herself, but at least she wouldn't have to do it sober in the hospital, with all the noisy nurses around. At least if she did it now it would be only their entire friend group. Or Callie's friend group, and Teddy and Henry.

She hadn't really talked to most of them since coming back. Alex was the one who reacted the best at her return, hating Stark's guts and willing for her to be appointed as head of pediatric surgery again. Mark had pointed every one of her flaws, which she had to stupidly believed was some way of helping. And Kepner had been around more than normally in peds, but outside them, no one really said anything to her face.

She looked over to where Teddy and Henry kept dancing, holding each other closer every time, and Avery and Kepner swayed together. Callie was still there, right where she left her, except that her company had changed.

Because Mark was now next to her, again, not wasting much time.

It was irrational, the bout of jealousness and betrayal she still felt when he was around her. Because they weren't together, and Callie couldn't even tolerate a compliment from her. But still a part of her wanted to make a scene, to scream how that made her feel, how fooled and unimportant it made her.

She was a fool. He was in their bed, and their relationship, and ever-present. After all, they had slept together, before and after Callie dated her, and they always fell back together, no matter how much she promised Arizona was different.

But was she really? After leaving, after bailing like Erica Hahn before her?

She loved Calliope; she really did.

And if distance proved something was that she just missed her more every time. Arizona really tried not to, not to love her as much, because people left, and she got heartbroken in the process, but things could be different, and she was tired of missing home.

Callie gave her that, the type of love she grew up dreaming of having. With the apartment and the blue door, and dance parties when coming home. They had a promise, a future, and she should've spoken before, she shouldn't have let herself be constantly blinded by what she wanted to believe.

All she wanted to do was to go back to her lonely apartment and cry about how idiotic she was.

She reached for a glass, playing with the ice as she tried to hold the tears back.

Arizona didn't want to miss her so much anymore, she didn't want to feel like she was failing with every step she took. Callie had told her to stay away, and the Colonel wasn't too keen on the idea of her leaving Africa, and her mom had asked her how sure she was, and Stark didn't stop taking her surgeries and forcing the worst schedule on her.

She hated to be seated in the bar, where everyone might see her wallowing in guilt, but the other place she could go, less crowded, would be the bathroom, and she was scared of the memories it held. But it was her only option, to take a moment, to cry before it was too late and she started crying in front of her co-workers, so she reluctantly made her way to it.

She wanted to be good, a good man in a storm, but things didn't go her way maybe since the last time she followed Callie to the same bathroom. She was trying, and reaching the point of not knowing what else to do. Maybe it was easy, maybe she wasn't a good person.

The look on Callie's face, so close, kept replaying on her mind, as it twisted something inside her chest and formed a knot in her stomach.

But she had fucked everything up.

There was a knock, and the door opened, offering her a glimpse of who was getting into the bathroom in the reflection of the mirror. Arizona wanted get out or into a stall, but it was impossible to do so without being too obvious. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself enough to talk without her voice breaking, while the door closed.

"Arizona?"

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not."

"I'm great, awesome." She finally turned around, facing Callie. "I'm sorry."

"No," she said harshly. "You don't get to do that, Arizona. You can't do that."

"I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- I'm sorry."

"You left. We were there and you left and…"

It took Callie a moment, a single second of hesitation before her gaze dropped to Arizona's lips.

Arizona stood, almost paralyzed.

Callie was leaning in, their noses bumping.

Callie was kissing her.

And she was eagerly kissing back. It was startling, absorbing. To have something too familiar, something she had longed for, and experienced before, yet the memories didn't compare to how it was. Her mind was trying to wrap about what was happening, to how much she had missed it, missed her.

It was chaste, their lips pressed together. Arizona's body still shaky from the crying, as she allowed herself to rest in Callie's touch. The remains of dismay kept them cautious, in place. She buried her hand in the black hair with blue strikes, shorter to the touch, different to what she remembered.

She had fantasized about it for months, but it didn't compare. It seemed too surreal, too much like a dream she would wake up from, because the idea of kissing Callie in a dirty bathroom seemed too far-fetched to be true. But her heart was beating loudly, and her fingers were digging in her neck, attempting to hold on to her before it would inevitably fall apart again.

They had done it before, a goodbye kiss, and she couldn't help but feel afraid about that being all that meant.

Even if Callie's hands held her tightly, keeping her in place, it didn't erase the fact that she flinched back not even hours ago, the look of disgust clear on her face. It didn't make the memories of Mark and her laughing disappear, or the fact that Arizona had bailed, or the door closed in her face.

"Stop," Arizona muttered, pressing her palm on Callie's shoulder, pushing her away. "We can't do this. Stop."

It only took a moment for Callie to break away, loosening the grip, letting her hands fall from Arizona's body to her sides, a dazed look on her face.

"I can't do this."

"Arizona…"

"I can't do this if you're going to leave me after tonight, I can't do a one night stand," she admitted, trying not to start crying again. "I don't know what to do," she said carefully, "I know you want me to leave you alone, but I miss you, and I can't, and I really don't know what we're doing anymore. But I can't do this only tonight. I will tell you how sorry I am every day if you want to, just, please, don't let this be only tonight."

She wasn't confident in her request, half expecting her to walk out. To run away and not come back, not to trust her again. After all, she had accepted, taken the risk at the expense of her own heart. The short-lived happiness, the indulging in a dance. It was easy to know what conclusions to take from the silence, from the way Callie's eyes dropped to the floor.

"I don't know what to do," Callie explained, eyes dropping to the ground. "I know how to get over a heartbreak, I know how to pull myself together." By sleeping with Mark, Arizona thought, but decided to keep to herself. "I thought you were gone, for good, but you weren't, and I don't know how to continue."

"Do you want me back?"

"What?"

"Do you want me back, at all?"

She was scared of her own question, of what would mean if the answer was no, or something other than what she wanted to hear. Because it wasn't the screaming matches or the spiteful words, it wasn't the dramatic love confessions. It was them, being as honest as they could. Finally talking, sincerely, in what felt like the first time in months.

Callie took a moment, tilting her head back up until their eyes met, as her hand rested under Arizona's chin.

"Yes," she said. "I've missed you, Arizona."

It was all she needed to reach over again, kissing Calliope delicately, enjoying being able to do so again.

It was almost overwhelming how at ease she felt.

They parted again, as they wrapped their hands around each other, foreheads pressing until Arizona let her head rest on Callie's shoulder. Swaying a little, back and forth, Arizona tried to process what had just happened, how everything had led them back to kiss in the same bathroom, how not everything was over.

Things were wrong, so wrong. She had to fly back to Africa in less than a week, just for a few days, and Stark was going to scream at her tomorrow, and nothing seemed to be as planned, but maybe, the course of things was finally favoring them.

The moment she thought they had lost.

"Is someone there?" April Kepner's voice shouted, "Teddy is going to throw the bouquet."

Arizona giggled, almost feeling caught, but immensely happy about the resident's interruption.

If it wasn't for it, they would probably spend the rest of the night locked away in the bathroom, and then she would have to explain to Henry why she hadn't tasted the wedding cake he spent so much time ordering. Without counting the fact that they would probably become the talk of the hospital, not that they weren't already.

"I think we should go out there, Calliope, I'm the bridesmaid and all that."

Callie smiled, interlocking their hands together. "After you."