A pair of forceps are placed in Callie's hand as soon as she extends it, before she even says anything. She glances down in surprise, then up again to see who handed them to her.
Cute Nurse— that's what she and Gloria call her, because Callie never bothered to learn her name and then it was too late to ask— waves at Callie. Her eyes scrunch up at the edges so that Callie can tell she's smiling under her mask.
"Is there anything else I can get for you, Dr. Torres?" she asks helpfully. Cute Nurse is very helpful. And cute.
Callie responds without looking up. "I'm good."
"I just read your article on automatic electric prostheses… fascinating stuff," her voice dips low and she leans in. "Particularly the bit about nerve grafting."
"Thank you." Callie smiles nervously, feeling herself blush a little at the unexpected compliment.
She tries to focus back in on the surgery and the things that actually matter in this moment. Her own hands, her patient, the rush of being the best at something. It's that last bit that gets her, though. Callie likes being good. And Cute Nurse reminds Callie that she's good.
"Do you think you'll get nominated for the Harper Avery?"
Callie laughs self-deprecatingly. "I don't know about that. Just happy to do the work."
"I do."
"Really? No. Really?" Quietly, anxiously, Callie's been nursing the same thought. "You think so?"
"Yeah, I really think so." The other woman takes the forceps back as soon as Callie is done with them, switching them out for the attachment she needs.
There's a long second of sustained eye-contact before Callie turns away, uncomfortable.
She doesn't… like this. She usually likes it, the flirting. She definitely liked it when her relationship with Penny was crumbling around her.
Something oily twists in her stomach, serpentine, as she realizes this surgery will last another four hours. Callie can feel eyes on the nape of her neck, where her hair is fighting to pull loose from her scrub cap and she feels a bit guilty. Like a child who's just touched expensive fabric with dirty hands.
That's it— her hands feel dirty. Irrationally, she worries about the next time she'll have to see Arizona. If it's going to be today or tomorrow or the next day. How much time she'll have between now and then to get clean.
Like maybe Arizona will look at her and just know.
"Could you, uh, could you actually run this up to pathology for me?" Callie sets a piece of marrow into a little metal bowl, handing it off to the scrub nurse without making direct eye-contact at all.
Cute Nurse startles a little, tearing her eyes away from Callie's neck. "Now?"
"Mhmm," Callie hums. "If you don't mind."
"Of course not. It's no problem, Dr. Torres," she says, sounding a little put-out. Callie's never sent her away before. She hands off her instruments to the person next to her before pulling off her gloves.
Callie exhales slowly as soon as she's gone. Flexes her fingers around the handle of her scalpel and shakes her head. Four more hours to go.
She bangs on Gloria's front door with the backs of her knuckles so hard that they itch when she pulls back. Callie's fluttery and nervous, switching between a death grip on the strap of her purse and resting her hands on her hips.
Gloria swings the door open, two glasses of wine in hand. "Take-out's on the table."
Callie sighs in relief. "I love you."
She pushes past Gloria into the living room, dropping her purse carelessly onto the couch before she starts pacing. Gloria watches her amusedly, holding out one of the glasses which Callie takes without hesitation. She just needs something to do with her hands.
"What is up with you tonight?" Gloria asks. She shuts the door with a quiet click and settles onto the couch, pulling her legs up into a criss-cross to get comfortable. It's her go-to gossip posture.
Callie takes a long sip of her wine before answering, leaning over the back of the couch to set it on the coffee table next to their dinner. "That one nurse was flirting with me again today."
Her friend's eyebrows furrow. "Okay… and?"
"And I'm," Callie huffs. She searches herself for a long second to figure out what to say. She settles on, "Struggling with it." As if that explains anything.
"Don't tell me you're one of those surgeons who won't date nurses," Gloria says. She isn't getting it. Honestly, Callie doesn't even get it. "Because that is so, completely a non-issue."
"No! I mean, yes, I do not date nurses, obviously," Callie stammers. She hates the way she can't seem to stop talking. She wants herself to stop talking, because once she says this— once she says this out loud— it's over. "But that's not, that isn't the problem here. It's not about that."
"Then what is it about?" Gloria's face changes, she sighs. "Oh, Callie. Callie, no."
Callie grimaces, still pacing.
When she passes where Gloria's sitting, Gloria's hand shoots out, grabbing Callie's arm to force her to stop. Callie looks at her, an expression of complete panic on her face. At a loss for words. Gloria stares up at her expectantly. She's not getting out of this.
"For a," she presses the flat of her palm into her forehead, "for a long time after the divorce, seeing other people felt like cheating. Which is just so ironic on so many levels, I know, but it did. And now… now it feels like cheating. Again. It feels like I'm cheating on her."
"Cheating on Penny?" Gloria asks, sounding like she already knows the answer.
Callie bites down on her bottom lip.
"Cheating on Arizona."
Gloria's face softens. She pats the spot next to her. "How about you sit down?"
She waits for Callie to circle the couch and sit before she takes her hand again, holding it in both of her own. "Okay," she says, nodding again. "Okay, this is workable. We just have to figure out what it means."
"I don't know what it means!" Callie giggles hysterically, ripping her hand away. "I don't— she doesn't even want me, it wasn't supposed to go like this. How the hell did I let this happen?"
"Well, first of all, wow. There's a lot to unpack there that I am just not even gonna touch right now. But what I am going to do," she meets Callie's eyes evenly, "is fix this. I can fix this."
"What?" Callie laughs again. "What are you even talking about?"
Gloria smiles, shaking her head a little. Callie's brain feels like it's screeched to a dramatic, awful halt. She has no idea what's going on, and she's even more confused when Gloria opens her mouth and says: "Don't worry about that, just follow my lead. I'll figure her out, and then you can figure you out."
Callie groans. "There's nothing to figure out. She doesn't—"
"She doesn't want you, right, I heard you the first time. And maybe she doesn't." Callie's heart drops at the idea. It sounds harsher when Gloria says it, somehow. "But right now you don't even know if you want her, and that's step one. We need a game plan here."
Callie mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Will it at least involve booze?"
The food must be getting cold, so Gloria leans over to grab a box of fried rice. She grins. "Now we're talking."
Callie holds out her hand expectantly for a cheap, plastic spoon— Gloria never has the energy to do dishes anymore, and Callie's not about to judge her for it— before digging into the meal.
"Oh, yeah, it'll be great," she mumbles around a bite of rice. A piece falls onto her lap. "Just you, me, and my hot, hot ex-wife."
"Maybe don't open with that," Gloria says. Callie glares at her, and she quickly backs off. "Just sayin'."
Callie's knees pop as she sits next to Arizona with a tired huff. They're at an uncomfortable little bench that's squashed up against one of the busier hallways, with sad, sagging cushions and a perfect view of everyone's comings and goings. It's sort of their place.
Her office is too quiet, too intimate, they get into too many arguments when they have to look each other in the eyes. The cafeteria feels too casual, like they might be co-workers or acquaintances who happen to eat together. Nothing they've ever done is casual.
Thus, the bench. Somehow, every time Arizona's around checking on Ava or going through another round of contract changes with Langone's legal team, they end up hunched over cafeteria sandwiches on the bench, watching people pass by.
Lately, they've been meeting for lunch more and more. One of them will break and send some text about Ava's stats last night, or how there's some new research they need to discuss, or how there's grilled cheese at the food court today.
All thinly veiled excuses to sit next to Arizona, barely saying anything at all.
And it's been fun.
Callie had forgotten how fun Arizona is.
"What did I miss?" Callie asks gleefully. Her back hits the wall behind them and she shifts, careful not to brush her shoulder against Arizona's.
Arizona snaps a carrot in half with her teeth, smiling conspiratorially as she points to where Dr. Finneas is standing. Ever since getting kicked off Ava's case, he's been trolling the Peds Ward like an incurable disease.
And maybe it's a little evil— it's definitely a little evil, actually— but their new favorite thing is watching him screw up. Callie's eyes track him as he stumbles over his feet while passing the elevator, and then as he drops his case files when he sees Callie smirking.
They sit in mutual judgment, watching him mix up vials and log terribly filled out paperwork. "Is it bad that I kind of hate him?" Arizona asks, loudly chewing on another carrot.
Callie turns to face her, a snappish remark about the peds fellow on her tongue but her breath catches in her throat. For a second, she'd expected to see the Arizona of a decade ago next to her, cropped blonde curls brushing her shoulders.
But that Arizona isn't here. This Arizona's face is a little broader, her forehead run across with faint lines at the twitch of an eyebrow. Her dimples sit lower in her cheeks. Deeper, somehow, like God has been slowly pushing his thumb into Arizona's cheeks as she ages.
Ever since that day at the Center, it keeps happening like this: moments of shining clarity where Callie can't stop looking at her. Some sort of temporary insanity that flares up every time Arizona smiles.
Callie clears her throat. She turns away from Arizona as quickly as she'd turned towards her. "Me too."
"What are you two doing?" Gloria's voice comes from across the room, where she's exiting a patient's room. She tucks a chart under her arm before walking over to Callie and Arizona, and Callie does her best not to look guilty.
Arizona inches away from Callie slightly, smiling, "Oh, hey! We were just eating lunch."
"In a hallway? On the saddest bench known to man?" Gloria shoots a pointed look at Callie, and this is exactly why Callie didn't tell Gloria about the bench.
"We like it here," Callie defends. At the word we, Gloria's eyebrows get all high and judgmental the way they do. Callie cringes internally. Prays that Arizona didn't notice.
"Whatever," she shakes her head, dismissing both of them. "Are you free on Friday?"
Arizona misunderstands, says, "I can take Sofia if you need."
Callie's eyes dart to Gloria, panicked, then relieved when Gloria makes a subtle, reassuring hand motion. She's got this. By any means necessary.
"Oh, no, you're coming. I haven't been out in over a year. Do you know how sad it is if I only have one friend?" Her voice goes deep and put-upon, tragically dramatic. "Don't do that to me, Arizona. I mean…" she trails off before going in for the kill. "My life is already so hard already."
Guilt trip. Classic.
Arizona opens and closes her mouth, face scrunching. "Who will watch Sofia?"
"We could always hire a babysitter." Callie shrugs, pretends not to notice the betrayed look Arizona gives her.
"You want me to hire a babysitter," Arizona pauses mid-sentence, trying to find the words, "so that I can hang out with my ex-wife?"
"I'll cover half?" Callie asks.
Arizona squints at her. "You bet your ass you will."
While she's walking Arizona out, Callie sees Cute Nurse coming from the opposite direction. Cute Nurse waves, looking like she's about to come up to them.
Callie immediately turns, directing Arizona down the first random hallway she sees.
Arizona spins a little, head bobbing for a second before she glares at Callie.
Callie clears her throat, scratches behind her ear. "This way is shorter," she explains.
"No, it's not."
"Just trust me, alright?" Callie grumbles, and Arizona laughs.
She holds her palms up in a playful, appeasing motion and sticks her tongue between her teeth. "Fine, then. Lead the way."
Gloria and Callie walk to the bar together from Callie's apartment because it's closest, and because Gloria is Callie's safety net tonight. It's packed when they get there, all embarrassing neon lighting that only cheap sport's bars use anymore and Callie cringes. They'd be better off at a college campus' liquor store.
Callie follows Gloria into the bar, hovering awkwardly while her friend grabs a spot.
"I'm gonna wait outside for Arizona," Callie says instead of taking the seat next to her.
Gloria shakes her head at Callie with a small smile. "You go do that."
Callie glares at her, walking backwards through the crowd for a second until she bumps into someone. She turns, apologizes, and makes her way towards the entrance.
Callie pushes through the door and finds Arizona already there, leaning up against the brick wall with a lit cigarette held between two fingers. Arizona startles when she sees Callie. She hastily drops the cigarette on the ground, snubbing it out with her shoe.
"Seriously?" Callie asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
Arizona shrugs. The tip of her nose is bright pink under the streetlights. She looks cold. "It helps."
It's a shockingly chilly night. Fall always creeps in like a guilty lover at 2AM. Callie kind of wants to give Arizona her jacket, except for the fact that she's pissed at her right now.
"Well, it won't help when you get lung cancer and die in 15 years," she snaps, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Why do you care?" Arizona says. She doesn't sound antagonistic, she isn't trying to pick a fight. She just sounds resigned. "It won't, it won't change anything for you."
That stops Callie in her tracks.
Is that really what Arizona thinks? That she could die and it wouldn't mean anything to Callie?
Is that how Callie treats her?
"Hand me one of those," she demands, holding out an open palm.
Arizona eyes her like this is a trick before placing the half empty pack of cigarettes in Callie's palm. Callie slips one out before handing the pack back to Arizona, takes the cigarette between her teeth and leans into Arizona's space.
"Just do it," she mutters around the thing, motioning intentionally to the lighter in Arizona's hands with her eyes.
Arizona comes in close, protecting the flame with one hand as she lights Callie's cigarette. Gazes like locked horns. The smoke is as bitter as she remembers. It sits at the back of her throat unpleasantly for a second before it starts to burn, and then she's shoving down an embarrassing cough.
Callie splutters. "Jesus, Arizona, what the fuck?"
"You're the one who went all just do it," Arizona says, making Callie scoff. She lights a new one for herself— takes the first pull, and Callie watches her throat work jealously.
Callie holds hers between her thumb and her forefinger, awkward, like she isn't sure if she's doing this wrong. Arizona watches her with obvious amusement. There's something heavy here just under the surface, pressing up against Callie's fingertips. She can't help but dig.
"I won't be fine. I'll care." She says it quietly, the smell of smoke settling into her skin. "Don't say crap like that anymore."
Arizona takes a long, slow drag, blowing up into the sky so that it won't hit Callie in the face. "Okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
They're looking at each other when the door slams open, Gloria holding it open with one hand and bracing the other against the door frame so that she's taking up the entire space. Her eyes dart between them, taking in the way they're standing intentionally far apart and the cigarettes they've both holding. Her jaw drops.
"You've got to be kidding me. We're doctors," she scolds them. Callie glances at Arizona, who's blushing bright pink on her cheeks now to match her nose. "I'm in cardiothoracics, put that shit out. You two are terrible."
Gloria doesn't spare them another look before walking back into the bar. Callie and Arizona snub out what's left of their cigarettes dutifully, following behind her seconds later.
Arizona decides to go shot for shot with Gloria, which seems like a bad idea all things considered. Arizona insists that it'll be fine, that she works with Nicole Herman, and she can handle her liquor, and then somehow implies Callie is the one who wouldn't be able to keep up.
That's how Callie ends up going shot for shot with Gloria and Arizona, which is definitely a bad idea. All things considered.
A very, very bad idea.
"Take that!" Gloria yells, slamming back her drink. Callie and Arizona groan, visibly drooping.
Arizona has her arms criss-crossed over the bar, and she looks dangerously close to just setting her head down on top of them. Callie slips her jacket off, draping it over Arizona's arms so that if she does, she won't be putting her face directly on the bartop. Arizona looks up at her gratefully, hazy-eyed, and the vodka makes Callie's head spin.
"Why does she like this place?" Arizona asks earnestly, speaking slow and deliberate.
Callie puts her face in her hands for the comfort of some pressure against her skull. "It's, uh, it's like. Hm. It's like home-y, or something. I don't know, she has bad taste."
Arizona reaches to push a piece of Callie's hair back. Her hand lingers behind Callie's ear. "So what does that say about you then? If the only person who likes you has bad taste?"
"You don't like me?" Callie's head jerks up, causing Arizona's fingertips to end up somewhere near her jaw. Gently brushing against it every time one of them breathes.
"No," Arizona murmurs. Her eyes reflect back every single one of those horrible neon lights, making them somehow less terrible in the process. "No, I like you, Calliope." Then she pulls back, reaching blindly for one of the two shots left on the bar. She takes it, rolling her neck as it goes down. "We're friends now."
"Friends?" Callie asks.
"Well, I mean, I thought— we're friendly, right? Friend-ish?" Arizona stumbles a little over her words, and Callie can hear an old, tender insecurity in it.
"Yeah," Callie reassures her quickly. "Yeah, of course we're friends, Arizona."
Arizona smiles, big and bright and true. Callie wants to press her thumb into a dimple, like God. And what a mythical, destructive thing that would be.
Arizona stumbles abruptly from her seat, almost tripping. She steadies, looks up at Callie with a wild grin. "I'm gonna go find a bathroom."
Callie lasts maybe a minute before she's following behind, keeping up with her chronic inability to leave Arizona alone. She wishes she understood herself. It would make the whole thing so much easier.
It gets increasingly worse lit the farther she walks from the bar itself, until she's fumbling through the dark hallway that leads to the bathroom. Drunken buzzing pushing in at the corners of her eyes.
Callie sees Arizona trying to do the same, her arms stretched out in front of her for balance.
She can tell Arizona's eyes haven't adjusted yet, the combination of booze and unsteady feet making it clear that she can't see. Callie's arms shoot out of their own accord and she steps forward, guiding Arizona against the wall.
Arizona looks up at her through her lashes, still slightly unsteady. "Thanks."
"No problem," Callie responds.
Callie is standing too close, she knows she is. She's been doing so good lately, not touching Arizona. She's been clutching her hands to her chest. But Arizona isn't jolting away this time, and Callie doesn't feel like she's about to be punished.
Again, Arizona reaches out to tuck a loose bit of hair behind Callie's ears but Callie grabs her wrist midway. Holds it gently, experimentally, her thumb pressed to the fluttering pulse-point.
Slowly, Callie pins Arizona's wrist above her head. Hand wrapped around it.
She can feel Arizona gasp, and then go pliable. God, she's pretty like this. The way her body just melts into Callie's, how she reacts to it immediately. Instinctually. They were always good at this. Callie's nose brushes against Arizona's but she doesn't go in for the kiss.
Instead, she leans down to brush her lips against the soft skin below Arizona's ear. Arizona makes a slight, breathy noise. Callie opens her mouth. Arizona arches her neck. Callie flattens her tongue against that spot Arizona likes.
"Please," Arizona whines. And, fuck, that's when something in Callie snaps loose. She can't help it— she bites down.
Arizona's hips roll up into Callie's. Her thighs open. Callie reaches her free hand down to Arizona's waist, guiding her to a slow grind against Callie's leg. More breathy noises, more of Arizona's neck and Callie's teeth and God, God, God. She feels so good. It's been so long.
Callie could fuck Arizona right here and Arizona would let her. Callie knows she would.
Not here, not like this.
Callie pushes off of Arizona, back slamming into the other wall. She holds out her hands, palm first, in the air like she's committed a crime. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
Arizona is ruined, panting, one hand still held to the wall above her head for a second before she drops it. And as the clarity comes back into her eyes, she looks ready to bolt.
"I have to go."
"Arizona, wait," Callie says, almost reaching for her before realizing how exponentially messed up that would be.
"Nope, I, uh. I can't." Arizona presses a finger to her mouth, then points it at Callie. "Sorry. I have to go now. We're good, this is fine. I'll see you Monday."
She scurries away, still clumsy-footed, still looking like she might trip but Callie wouldn't reach her in time to catch her anyways. And then she's gone.
Callie's head drops forward into her hands, and she sinks to the ground. Knees pulled to her chest, groaning.
Talk about a bad night.
Callie wakes up the next morning face-down in her own bed, surrounded by a mess of tangled black hair. She moans and her head throbs at the sound. She has an absolutely pounding headache.
The bed dips as someone else climbs in. Callie startles. Her heart pounds as she rolls over, completely lost as to why there's someone in her bed.
Gloria stares down at her, looking completely fine. "Here," she whispers, handing Callie a coffee mug and two Advil. "You threw up after we got home, so the hangover shouldn't last too long."
Callie sits up in bed, feeling vaguely nauseous, and gratefully takes the coffee out of Gloria's hands. "What happened last night?"
"After Arizona left you went kind of… I don't know how else to put this, insane. You were completely bat-shit, off the rails insane."
Arizona. The hallway.
"I think I seriously fucked up." Callie clutches the mug so hard she's afraid it might shatter. She looks at Gloria, obviously distraught.
Gloria winces. "Shit. What did you do?"
"I—" Callie cuts herself off. "It was bad, okay? Just take my word for it, it was very, very bad."
Her friend grimaces, pulling her mouth into a thin, pale line. She sighs. "I am going to say something to you, and I need you to hear me," Gloria waits for Callie to nod, and then she nods back, still grimacing. She takes a deep breath. "Stop screwing around. Decide what you want."
Callie's jaw drops, her eyebrows raise defensively. "I don't know what I want!"
"Don't lie to me," Gloria says bluntly. Callie's mouth snaps shut. "Callie. It's time to say it. I know you, I know that you think you should get to decide how you feel." Gloria puts her hand on Callie's calf, softening her tone. "That's not how it works, sweetheart. What do you want?"
And Callie's kind of known for a while. Callie's kind of known from the beginning, but then Arizona was here and angry , and pushing Callie away. She still is, sometimes. Admitting this, wanting this, will be hard. It's gonna hurt. Callie should probably go back to ignoring it. She never should've stopped in the first place.
"I want, I want Arizona," Callie says, which is not ignoring it. "I want her back."
Gloria smiles like Callie is a child who finally got the answer right to an easy math question. "Then do that."
"This is a terrible idea," Callie laughs, feeling slightly manic and out of control. She can't even believe she's considering pursuing Arizona. Arizona practically ran away from her last night. Arizona breaks Callie's heart constantly. Arizona begged Callie not to leave in the first place. Both times. How could Callie possibly go back on something like that?
"Glory, I hurt her. I hurt her so much. I mean she hurt me, sure, but I did it right back. I don't know how we could ever…"
Gloria takes the mug from Callie delicately, noticing how much her hands are shaking. "Does the fact that you shouldn't do this actually change anything you're feeling?"
"No." Callie curls her fingers into her now empty palms.
"Then you should try. I think you need to give it a shot," she says, looking at Callie solemnly. "For both of your sakes."
"I don't even know where to start."
"So? Shut up and do it anyways."
Notes: Inappropriate Calzona (almost) sex era! Yay! Reviews keep me going :) find me at pearlcages on Tumblr and Twitter