"D, do you need a ride?" he asks her quickly, struggling to get his shirt on before she is out of the door. It's his only white shirt, though, and he's barely dressed even before she makes it to the trailer's door, which opens with a sudden and horrendous creak, something she hasn't noticed before, but is now beginning to.
"No, my car is parked right here."
He finally pops his head through his shirt's collar and flies up, hurrying over to her as she makes her way down the creaky stairs.
"Are you sure?" he asks. "I can drive you. You can come by later then, and pick it up."
Amelia laughs, "I'm not waiting until you get off work!" She stops to turn around and look at him. She finds him funny in this moment; him, only in his white shirt and briefs, leaning against the doorway of the trailer, one arm bracing it open while the other grips the ledge. "Besides," she reasons, "I have surgery in 30 minutes."
He drops his eyes shyly to the floor, as if in consideration, and looks back up at her. "So you're not coming tonight."
"Probably not."
"You say that and then show up at my door, anyway," he lectures. "I have no way of knowing."
"Well, consider me impulsive," she grins. She edges away from him now, with slower steps, still watching him as he stands at the doorway. It seems as though he could leap out if he wanted to. He doesn't say anything this time, so she turns around to leave.
But he calls to her, "Amelia?"
She looks at him.
He waits before asking, "So you won't come?"
"I won't."
The last thing she expects to walk into is Arizona changing in her office. Their office.
She is beginning to like the sound of their, if only for this, she thinks, as she watches Arizona's flustered expression. Amelia says nothing, though, and instead stares at her pale, lightly freckled bra-clad chest. She only finds Arizona staring back at her.
The blonde doesn't seem too flustered, though, and she only smirks at her when she slips her scrub shirt on.
"You wear nothing underneath, huh?" Amelia grins.
"I wear a bra," Arizona shoots back.
Now she seems more flustered. As if she's remembered something. Now that words have been spoken. She sees her pale cheeks grow slightly red and briefly wonders if her body feels hot.
"I need to tell Herman," she says.
Amelia continues to stand at the doorway, only shutting the door behind her.
"Today?"
Arizona stays where she is. "Soon."
They share a look before the other woman's eyes darken, and she stares at the floor beneath her, losing herself to her own thoughts.
"Don't look so sad."
"I'm not sad," Arizona tells her. She lifts her gaze and her eyes begin to search the room.
"What are you looking for?"
"My lab coat."
"You should, probably, you know," Amelia starts, and now she walks closer to her, "move."
"Huh?" Arizona asks, looking back at her. She slowly steps away as Amelia draws closer to her. The neurosurgeon wonders what kind of look she's giving her. She can't even tell. Her eyes draw to her bare, pale arms, and she can see the muscle indentations on her forearms as she crosses her them in front of her, as if shielding some part of herself.
"I mean, you should move around when looking for something," Amelia laughs, taken aback by her own voice. It's low and sultry and does a little more than just surprise her. "Common sense, you know?"
"Well," Arizona retorts quickly, drawing further away from her. She spots her coat behind the computer desk and goes to pick it up. "Don't say it so strangely."
"How is it strange?"
"The way you're acting is a little strange to me," she says. Her eyes refuse to meet Amelia's, even as she puts on her lab coat.
"How am I acting?"
The blonde sighs, "I don't know, Amelia."
"You're upset," Amelia determines.
"I'm just tired," Arizona explains. "And nervous. And frustrated."
"Herman?" she inquires.
"Herman."
"Is that all?"
Arizona meets her gaze now. She can't tell what she's thinking from her eyes alone. For the first time, it seems, she can't.
"That's all."
Amelia feels herself growing hotter, as though the room has suddenly obstructed something. She feels nervous. In thrall by this woman, almost. But she wants to be.
"I'm here to help you. I'll be here if you need me," she says. Her voice is soft and low.
Arizona smiles at her, and it seems as soft as her own voice. "I need to tell her myself."
"Are you sure?"
"This is the only thing I can do right," Arizona says. And it makes Amelia remember what they're here for. What this is for. But Arizona is more than that, she thinks. More than a career, more than a fellowship. More than sad blue eyes. She is more than what she thinks she is.
"I think you're doing a lot of things right."
Arizona looks at her, her eyes are wide and they seem vulnerable to Amelia.
"You should want more," she tells her. "Step up. You deserve more."
"Amelia…"
"Call me Amy, won't you?" she requests. "Amy."
"Amy?" Arizona asks, and she says it as though sampling the sound of it on the tip of her tongue. The word comes out uncertainly, but Amelia likes the sound of it, the harmony behind it. She says it again, "Amy," and now there is more assurance behind it, more confidence.
Amelia smiles. She wants to take her hand and pull her with her - somewhere, anywhere - just so she can hear it in different tones. She wants to hear Arizona say her nickname in anger. In frustration. In soft complaint. In happiness.
In almost every way possible.
She just wants to hear it again.
"I like the sound of it... coming from you," Amelia tells her.
Arizona smiles. She looks confident and bright. It's such a little thing, such a small thing, but she likes it too.
"Me too, Amy."
She spends lunch with Arizona, who now calls her Amy, and it is pleasant and lovely, and she seems to forget everyone else in her life. She is almost tempted to have dinner with her, but Meredith intervenes before they make their way out, and requests that she come home for dinner, emphasizing a word that has always unnerved Amelia.
So now she sits with Meredith - meal finished and wine glasses out. She settles again, for flavored sparkling water, raspberry being her favorite. She traces the rim with her finger as Meredith talks about her estranged relationship with her brother.
"I'm sorry my brother's an ass," she offers, when she is sure Meredith is finished. But the woman does not seem moved.
"I already knew that," Meredith claims. "But hey, I'm glad you're kind of listening."
"I was listening."
"You were not listening to me."
Amelia grows annoyed, "I am."
"You do this to Addison too?"
"Meredith," Amelia warns. "Don't make this about anything else. You're just as much of my sister as Addison is, okay?"
Meredith seems to collect herself and cools down, picking up the dirty dishes from the table. Amelia stands to grab her coat.
"You're leaving?"
"I have plans."
"With who?"
"Owen," she tells her. Though she hasn't planned anything at all. Really, she is simply tempted to knock on Alex's door and drag Arizona with her to the bar. Or somewhere. But then she remembers that she's at the hospital, and is suddenly tempted to work on the case again. She's been faltering, she thinks. "Actually, I need to prepare for a big surgery."
Meredith seems to ignore the latter half and quickly inquires, "So you slept with Owen?" but not before correcting herself, "Cristina's Owen?"
Amelia scoffs, but confirms, "Yes, I slept with Owen." She slips on her coat.
"And you slept with Arizona before that?" she finally asks.
Amelia waits for her to add more this time, but she doesn't, and it makes her scoff even harder.
"No, Meredith!" she exclaims, suddenly. "But what if I did?"
"Amelia-" Meredith warns.
"Cristina's Owen? How come you didn't say Callie's Arizona? They're not together any more than Cristina and Owen are," she considers. "People don't belong to others."
"That's not what I meant."
"Your consideration for others is very self-centered," Amelia shoots, and she suddenly feels bad when Meredith flinches from the words.
"Look, I don't want to fight," Meredith says, her voice softer this time, "You know that's not what I meant."
"I'm sorry," Amelia says, "I should go."
"Do you like him?"
"I do."
Meredith seems satisfied, and only watches her as she moves towards the door. Amelia stops and considers her words, staring at the wooden door in front of her.
"I like her too."
"What?" Meredith asks, her eyes surprised.
Amy fiddles with the doorknob, briefly testing its durability. She finally turns it and opens the door.
"Arizona," she says, "I like her too."