They're sitting on the floor of Amelia's brand new apartment, half naked and panting. Amelia reaches across Arizona to pull two cigarettes out of her purse and she lights both before handing one to Arizona.
"You trying to break me," she asks.
Arizona smirks and blows a puff of smoke in Amelia's direction.
They'd been moving Amelia into her new place and got distracted.
It was a lazy and happy distraction and now Arizona feels loose and sated.
"You know what I find interesting?" Amelia pauses and puffs out three perfect smoke rings, one right after the other. Her lips are dry.
Arizona wipes her hand across her own lips. The taste of Amelia mingles with the cigarette.
"I find it interesting that we've fucked so many times I've lost count but the last time I saw you without pants on we lived in Baltimore."
Arizona's leg itches and she looks away, sucking on her cigarette like the nicotine in it could transport her out of the room.
"You want to explain why you're turning me into a pillow princess?"
"You got me off plenty."
Amelia waggles her fingers. "With my hand. Jammed down your pants like we're doing it in the back of a car. We keep this up and I won't be able to perform surgeries."
She keeps sucking on her cigarette and she wonders how she can get out of Amelia's apartment without it being obvious.
"I mean, you've let people besides Callie see your leg right?"
It's not soft or tender. Just a matter of fact question.
And blond hair flashes before her eyes. Both of them were blonds. Both of them reminded her of herself once upon a time. Less Leah. Thinking about Leah always twists her up. It's difficult to reconcile the hurt she caused that girl.
"Right," Amelia asks again and she's leaning forward on naked knees waiting patiently for a response.
"I've fucked other people."
"More than one? That's impressive. How'd the wife handle you being a big old slut?"
"I just spent the last fifteen minutes between your thighs so you tell me."
"Okay. So you've slept with other people. So why can't you take your pants off in front of me?"
Because besides Callie Amelia's the only person she's slept with that knew her before. Amelia can remember Arizona in skirts so short she got reprimanded once. She can remember those legs wrapped around her. Can remember—
Amelia grabs her by the chin and turns her towards her. "Hey." Her voice is soft and intimate. That's not the way they're supposed to be. "It's just a question." And she tries to smile like she doesn't care.
"You knew me before."
"And hated you at least eighty percent of the time."
"But you knew me. And this," she glances at her leg, "this changes things. I don't need to fuck someone that looks at me with pity."
"Did Callie do that?"
Callie's still working on a project to build Arizona a brand new leg. She still wrestles with guilt Arizona gladly piled on her shoulders. When they were going to sleep she thought she could spy the pity, even when Callie only looked at her with love when she was lying between her legs.
"I can't handle the pity."
Amelia nods again. Drops the rest of her still burning cigarette into a half a bottle of water and then kneels between Arizona's legs.
"What are you—"
She pulls her pants down in a tug. They catch on her prosthetic and Amelia stops to inspect it. "Yeah," she says, nodding like she's looking at a car she'd going to buy. "I can see how I should pity you. You always get the best parking spaces."
The comment pulls a sharp laugh out of Arizona that promptly deflates all the misery that had been building up inside of her.
Amelia scoots down by Arizona's feet and carefully extricated her pants from her prosthetic. "I get worrying about pity but you know I'm a neurosurgeon right? We're about as close to sociopaths as you can get outside a jail."
"So I don't have to worry about you empathizing."
"Definitely not. And if I cry while looking at you it's because I'm thinking about how much better the sex could be with a handful of pills and a bottle of vodka."
Pants off Amelia grabs her by both knees and pulls her onto her back. She leans over her so all Arizona can see is bright eyes and a wicked smile.
"Now, keep an eye out for a snorkel, because I don't plan on coming up for air for at least an hour."
####
The trailer is off limits. The house is off limits. Hotels are off limits because it would make it too clear how temporary feeling their relationship is.
So Callie and Owen are fucking in the back of her car.
It's a big plush SUV that still has that brand new car smell and Arizona is taking Sofia to school all week so there isn't even a car seat in it.
"I feel a little like a teenager," Owen mutters as he draws her hair away from her neck and kisses down her back.
She's on her hands and knees and doesn't feel like a teenager at all. When she was a teenager it was blow jobs and missionary and inappropriate thoughts about that one girl in gym class.
Now Owen is naked and behind her and she needs something different because all she can think about lately is Arizona.
He slides in with a hiss. Gentle, but different and Callie has to reach for the seat in front of her for support.
"You okay," he asks and he sounds too far away.
She nods.
The rhythm is slow and in this position Callie can't do much but let Owen set the speed.
"It's always your choice that matters," Arizona once said over the body of a twelve year old kid as they worked together to save his life.
Sex positions isn't exactly what Arizona meant when she'd said it and this particular event is actually Callie's idea, but she's trying. Experimenting. Letting go of the power games that have dominated her life since Arizona snuck into the bathroom at Joe's to kiss her on the lips.
Owen pulls her up against him and reaches between her legs to bring her to orgasm as his stubble scrapes at her neck.
She has to grab him for support and he's tender as he holds her through delicious spasms that rock her whole body.
"Imagine if we actually had room," he murmurs against her ear. He's still thrusting. A steady rhythm at odds with her shuddering.
It's easy.
But he's right.
They can't keep fucking in cars and on call rooms.