Someone Like You [5A/?]

May 07, 2015 21:25



Someone Like You
Authors: camerashy06 & kennedysbitch (Team Couch Potato Chip Squared)
Pairing: Callie/Arizona, Callie/Erica
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer

Summary: When Gary Clark dies before he can reach his final destination, the future of Seattle Grace’s surgical team is unknowingly altered. Without a push to find their way back to each other, Callie and Arizona find their lives rolling in opposite directions. Nearly three years and half a world later, circumstances find them crashing together again while old feelings begin to resurface amidst a host of new complications.


image Click to view



---

What had made for a quiet night so far turned sour just as Cristina was tying her shoes and preparing to head home. A frozen pizza and open bottle of wine were the only things waiting for her in an otherwise empty apartment, but it was the absence of people she craved more than the booze itself.

The singular peaceful moment of her day was shattered when Hurricane Torres blew into the change room. An unintelligible stream of Spanglish spewed forth; Callie started ripping her scrubs off and stuffing them violently into an open locker. She was either performing an incredibly pissed off striptease or else she had just been fired. Cristina was having a hard time figuring out which option was safest to assume.

Arching an eyebrow, confused, she waited for a good place to jump in. She figured she had two choices - leave before Callie realized it, or step in and stop her before she killed something with her bare hands. Neither option really appealed as someone that was already exhausted and full to the brim with other people's problems. Nonetheless, Cristina resigned herself to friend-duty one more time. Maybe she was going soft in her old age; this was the third time in a week.

“Callie,” she barked. “you’re gonna have to hit the translate button, I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Callie whirled on the spot, nostrils flared, and Cristina buried the urge to go with her original plan and make a run for it. “Work with me here,” she added. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate everyone,” Callie blurted. “That’s what’s wrong.”

“Okay then.” Cristina stood up and pulled on her jacket. “At least we can agree on something. Which Blondie pissed you off this time?”

Callie’s fingers swept through her hair, tangling, and she levelled a vicious glare on Cristina because she was the only person in the room. “She is just - I don’t even - who does she think she is?” she snapped, yanking a fresh t-shirt over her head before throwing her arms out in exasperation. For all she knew herself, she could be talking about either one of them. They were both pissing her off in equal bouts. She stared at Cristina like she was supposed to help her figure it out.

There was a lapse while Cristina tried to piece things together. All it did was make her headache swell. “A surgeon with a god complex?” she tried. It was vague enough to carry through the next sentence.

“To say the least,” Callie muttered. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this enraged over a simple argument. Somehow Arizona’s truth bomb had made her even angrier than Erica’s. Arizona always had a way of bringing out the most powerful of Callie’s emotions, be they good or bad. Their fights stung longer, words cut deeper, but it also meant their make-up sex was off-the-charts amazing by the time it came around. Of course, that wouldn’t do Callie any good now - Arizona’s visit had stirred up old baggage and it was swirling around her like a whirlpool of razor blades.

Cristina, lacking the necessary telekinesis for the one-sided conversation, was at a total loss. The only thing she had to go on was her conversation with Callie earlier in the day. The tired, hungry side of her was nearly out of fucks to give at this point. “Listen, if you’re done, I really have to-”

“Why did she have to come back? Why now?” Callie cut in, oblivious. “Everything was fine before Arizona just randomly appeared back in Seattle. Sofia and Erica and I were fine, and now, it’s - she’s just - argh!”

Callie slammed her locker shut and drove her fist into it, then abruptly deflated and rested her forehead against the cool metal. “I miss the days when I could just get drunk and forget my problems. Everything was so much easier.”

Now that was something Cristina could work with. She jumped at the chance. “Who says you can’t? There’s a bar right across the street and two stools with our name on them.”

Callie popped one eye open and rolled it sideways without moving her head. “I think the nice people at Child Services would argue that it’s a bad idea to take your baby to a bar. I’ve only got a sitter on Thursdays and weekends.”

“Get Sloan to take her for a few hours,” Cristina suggested. “He’s Mr. Babysitter, isn’t he? You live right across the hall.”

“Cristina,” Callie sighed, frustrated and too tired to argue. “I just want to go home and punch a wall. I don’t want to get shitfaced and act like I’m twenty-five again.”

“Don’t punch things. You break these, you’re homeless,” Cristina pointed out, peeling Callie’s hand away from the locker before she got any more bright ideas. “And besides, you were already in your thirties the last time you used alcohol to solve your problems. How is this any different?”

Callie snorted and started rubbing her sinuses The pressure headache was making a comeback. “Apparently I’m a selfish ass, so it would fit the pattern. Sure, let’s go get drunk. Why not break a hand while I’m at it? Maybe two?”

“Okay,” Cristina said slowly, “you have a baby. A baby that will not appreciate sleeping in a box, so homelessness is not really an option.” She wrestled Callie back onto the bench and started passing over her belongings.

Cristina had a point. Callie liked running water too much to end up on the streets. “Fine,” she grumbled, digging her palms into her face and trying to squeeze the tension away. “It’s just - sometimes I hate that I like women. They’re complicated and impossible to please. Guys are so much easier, you fight and you make up by not talking about it ever again. Why can’t girls be like that?”

Cristina dropped into the space next to Callie. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m really tired and kind of hoping we can take care of this quickly. You have twenty seconds to stuff your problems into a nutshell before I take you across the street and make you shotgun an ounce of tequila for every second you go over my time limit.”

Callie rolled her eyes. “She asked me out for breakfast, she pursed me. And all of a sudden I’m the bad guy? How is that fair?”

Cristina worked through the complexities of a singular pronoun.. “So the talk with Robbins went badly?”

“She blamed me for the whole thing,” Callie sighed. “I got defensive and argued, even though she’s pretty much right.” Her scowl said it all. “This is so annoying.”

“The righteousness is strong in that one,” Cristina mused. “Forget about her and Hahn and come out with me for an hour.”

“I have to pick Sofia up.”

“If you tell Sloan you need a night out, he’ll look after the squirt,” Cristina said. “He thinks you’re too uptight and need to get out more.”

Callie did a quick double take. “Did you just call my child a squirt?”

“Godmother rights,” Cristina smirked. “I get to call your spawn whatever I want.” She stood up and hauled Callie with her. “C’mon, you’re buying. That’s twice today I’ve had to dispense advice against my will. You need to recharge my batteries.”

“You haven’t said anything useful,” Callie point out.

“My wisdom comes at a price. We can talk about this over drinks - or not, because that’s the beauty of tequila.” Cristina grabbed her things and slung a bag over her shoulder, then fixed Callie with an expectant stare. “Coming?”

Callie still wasn’t convinced this was the best idea, but in the end she grabbed her things and removed her ass from the bench. “One drink. You can act like you’re listening, I can vent and feel like the bigger, better person in all of this, and nobody goes home with a one night stand. These are my terms.”

“Deal.” Cristina pushed open the exit. “We’re getting drunk.”

***

Callie checked her watch while balancing a squirmy Sofia in her arms, wondering how long she had to be the person standing in front of a bar with her baby in tow. It was colder than she’d thought and Sofia was getting fussy in her puffy pink coat, the lack of enthusiasm for a delayed bedtime obvious. Passers-by threw strange looks Callie’s way and she was starting to feel like her ‘Mother of the Year’ award would go to that homeless dude on the street corner that talked to himself every time she walked by.

“C’mon, Sloan,” she mumbled under her breath, glancing at her watch every few seconds. If he didn’t appear within the minute, she was calling the whole thing off and leaving Cristina on her own.

Finally, Mark and Julia appeared in the crosswalk leading from the parking lot to Emerald City bar. Callie flashed him a grateful smile as they stepped up the curb and arrived in front of her.

“Diaper bag, baby,” she said gruffly, kissing Sofia’s forehead and hefting her into Mark’s arms. “Mama’s gotta go babysit your godmother, mija. Have fun with Uncle Mark and I’ll see you tonight.”

Sofia blinked at her mother, then swivelled around to fix Mark with a puzzled stare. She immediately reached up and latched onto his beard with two tiny fists, breaking into a huge smile. She did it every time he was around, whether from amusement or a genuine dislike of the forest creature growing on his face, Callie didn’t know. She never bothered to discourage it.

Nonplussed, Mark grinned at his best friend and steered the infant away from his face. “Good thing your mom knows the hospital therapist. You’re gonna need her when you’re older, yes you are,” he cooed, voice pitched. Callie punched him in the ribs half-heartedly while Julia laughed.

“Thanks for letting us borrow the munchkin,” Mark’s girlfriend said, tugging on Sofia’s tiny boot.

“Oh no, thank you,” Callie emphasised. She dug out her phone to make sure it was charged for the evening.

“I’ve got enough stories to last you a lifetime, kid.” Mark chuckled as he patted Sofia on the back. “Things your Mama and I did she’ll look back on and cringe.” It didn’t take long for him to realize both women were glaring daggers. “Not sex,” he clarified. “Give me some credit here.”

Julia looped an arm through his. “And on that note, give us a call when you’re home. Don’t worry about the time, we’ll be up.”

Callie hesitated when Sofia peeked over Mark’s shoulder and whined in her direction. “Please don’t judge me,” she spoke quietly, feeling like the worst parent in the world. If she heard about some woman dumping her baby off so she could go drink at a bar, she would be full of opinions.

“Nobody’s judging you, Torres,” Mark soothed. “You need a night off. It’s been what, six months?”

“Eight,” Callie said glumly. “Still…”

“Go - be merry, relax, have a few drinks. Sofia will be fine and you can come get her in an hour.” He picked up Sofia’s arm and waved it at her. “I promise she’ll have all her fingers and toes, and hey, if not, I can sew them back on.”

“Funny,” Callie deadpanned. Finally, despite the lingering guilt still threatening to swallow her whole, she backtracked to the pub door. “Call if you need anything,” she added, waving to Sofia and her babysitters before disappearing inside. Any longer and she would have backed out for good.

Cristina had secured them space at the bar and immediately shoved two shot glasses under Callie’s nose. “I got started without you,” she announced, tipping back the one in front of her.

Callie wrinkled her nose, glaring into what looked like tequila. “We’re doing shots? I wanted a glass of wine and some nachos.”

“We don’t always get what we want,” Cristina said loudly, “just do it.”

Callie mumbled to herself before snatching up one of the shots and tossing it back. The burning sensation was oddly comforting after a really long day.

“See? This is how we forget about your women troubles,” Cristina mused, signalling the bartender to keep the beverages flowing. “Just like the old days, except now we’re both old maids.”

The absolute last thing Callie wanted to do was re-hash why she was sitting there tonight; there just didn’t seem to be an easy way around the subject. Misery loved company and it was safe to say that she and Cristina were both pretty miserable these days.

“Let’s talk about you instead,” she suggested in lieu of, staring straight into the mirror lining the bar’s back panel. “Piss anyone off today? You’re not exactly Mrs. Gung-Ho when it comes to getting plastered these days yourself.”

“That would be ‘Miss’ Gung-Ho. I’m divorced, remember?” Cristina replied. She split the fresh shot glasses between the two of them again. “And no, not really. My boss was just in an exceptionally crappy mood today, thanks to her personal life.” She fixed her sidekick with a pointed stare.

Callie found herself chuckling. “So we suffer together,” she mused. The next part of Cristina’s rant she missed, instead signalling the barkeep for a glass of whatever was on tap. If she stuck to the simple stuff, she was less likely to embarrass herself in front of her friends and her kid later tonight.

“She was off her rocker today,” Cristina elaborated, swivelling to face Callie when she wasn’t getting the type of response she was looking for. “Are you sure she’s not working for the underground mob or something? She jumps down your throat, she lights me on fire for stuff that’s not my fault, and she’s probably drawing up plans for Robbins’ death. Y’know, something to make it look like an accident. Slip of the scalpel.”

Callie snorted and raised a drink to her lips, choosing to not answer that last part. “Mob, huh?”

“It’s possible,” Cristina said airily, swallowing another shot of tequila and quickly sucking on a lime. “I’m considering transferring to another fellowship anyway. There’s an opening in Cleveland and they seem interested.”

Callie slammed the remaining shot glass hard enough on the table to slosh liquid everywhere - either because of Cristina’s announcement or the fact that whatever she had ordered was blue.

“What? No!” she protested, “you can’t just...just...leave.” Scowling, she tried to mop the spill up with a napkin. “I’m putting my foot down. No.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” Cristina argued. “I’m lucky if I get the freedom of a fourth year resident most days. She takes all the good surgeries for herself and only lets me scrub in if she can’t find an excuse not to. She won’t let me near this trial and she’s outright disrespectful with her attitude.” She stuffed a handful of bar almonds into her mouth. “I might be a robot but even robots can only handle so much crap. Cleveland is kissing my ass just to get me there.”

Callie hunched over her beer, sulking, and wondered what it would be like to lose yet another important person in her life. First Arizona, then Erica to a degree, and now Cristina. At this rate, even Sofia was bound to move her crib into Mark’s apartment and never talk to her again.

“She’s been kind of a nightmare since you had the kid,” Cristina added. “Not that it’s a great excuse or anything. Throw Robbins into the mix and you get Agent Orange.”

Callie glanced at Cristina dumbly. “I thought we came here to not talk about my girlfriends? Friend,” she quickly amended. Pregnancy and months of breastfeeding meant her tolerance for any kind of alcohol was at an all time low. A few measly shots of liquor, half a glass of beer and she was already feeling sleepy.

“What else do we have to talk about?” Cristina shrugged and sipped some water.

Callie buried her face in her hands and released a long, heavy sigh. Being continually frustrated with the state of her life was exhausting. She was so sick of fighting with everyone when all she wanted to do was enjoy being a mom and kick some ass at her job.

After a minute or so, she lifted her head again and took a few more gulps of beer. “I need a vacation. Just me, Sofia and her Diaper Genie on an island somewhere.”

“You need to get laid,” Cristina stated, making Callie grunt. “It’s gross, but you’re happier and less mopey when you’re sleeping with Hahn.” She started building a pyramid with the empty glasses littering the table in front of them. “When is the last time you guys - y’know - knocked boots or whatever it is two chicks do?”

“How old is Sofia?” Callie mumbled unhappily into her beer.

“Seriously? That long?” Cristina knocked the pile over and emitted a low whistle as they scattered. “God, I would explode. At least that explains some of why she’s so uptight. And why you’re just about ready to hop on the Robbins train thirty seconds after she got here.”

“I was not,” Callie snapped, deciding on a whim to drink the blue thing Cristina ordered anyway. “We tried it maybe twice, Erica and I, but we work all the time, and then there’s Sofia. It just hasn’t really...worked. I mean ‘it’-it works,” she said hurriedly, “just not ‘it’ as in the ‘us’ part of...it.” Callie scrunched her forehead and tried that sentence again in her head.

“Tell me again how that’s the sign of a healthy relationship?”

“You and Owen were banging like monkeys and now you’re divorced,” Callie snapped.

“Point Torres.” Shifting her posture, Cristina slumped over the bar and settled her elbows in a pile of crumbs. “I guess we both need to get laid.”

Callie made it to the bottom of her beer glass and miserably pushed it away. “For the first few months I was up every two hours with Sofia. Erica didn’t even sleep over then, and now if she stays at the apartment, that’s literally all we do, sleep. We occasionally pass each on the way to the coffee machine in the morning, but otherwise we’re on autopilot. We weren’t like this before.”

“I should hire you a hooker,” Cristina suggested, licking salt from her hand and proceeding with another shot. “They have lesbian versions, right?”

Callie dropped her head sideways, incredulous. “Really?”

“What?” Cristina looked miffed. “It’s an option. Some girls might like that sort of thing.”

“And you would know this because of personal experience?”

“Many have tried,” Cristina brushed off.

Callie could only laugh. “Sometimes I wonder if Meredith even knows this side of you.”

“Meredith knows all sides of me. Why do you think she moved?”

For all the cheering up tonight was supposed to accomplish, by now Callie was feeling pretty low. She couldn’t think about anything other than Erica or Arizona and their disagreement. Memories of how much she loved being with Erica in the beginning were muddled with current ones of tension and uncertainty. Her mental faculties were starting to take a hit thanks to Cristina’s active wallet and a fully-stocked delivery day for the establishment. The conversation drifted around Callie’s abysmal love life, to Cristina’s, to work, and somehow circled back to the same two women responsible for her needing to be here. An hour later and they weren’t any closer to finding her a solution.

“The way I see it, you have three choices,” Cristina slurred, staring into her drink as though it held the answers to the universe. “One, you can put aside your mutual distaste for one another and sleep with the Ice Queen. Maybe getting laid will bring back the magic. Two,” she continued before Callie could interrupt, “you can forgo the Ice Queen and sleep with Roller Girl, because clearly you two have a lot of unresolved sexual tension. Or three-” She finished another shot. “Three, the lesbian hooker thing. Take your pick. Whatever way you look at it, you gotta get laid, Torres. Before your lady parts dry up and nobody wants to go in.”

“Thank you for putting that so eloquently,” Callie quipped, tracing a finger around the rim of her glass. “God, I used to be good at flirting, I was good at being in relationships. Put the two together and I was golden. Now I’m dried up and old and my girlfriend would rather work with you all day than have sex with me.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel really good about my role in the whole thing.”

Callie kept talking. “Erica and I had really good sex when we started up again. I mean I was getting bigger with Sofia, but still, we made it work.”

Cristina fired a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening to drop a pair of earplugs from the sky. The last thing she wanted to hear about on her night off was her ex-roommate and mentor getting it on - especially when her own divorced ass wasn’t getting any.

“Arizona and I had really fantastic sex, too,” Callie sighed, staring blankly at the wall and talking to herself as much as the person next to her. “I hadn’t thought about it in a while, probably because pushing a baby out of my vagina wasn’t really a picnic, but now that she’s here…”

“Oh god,” Cristina groaned. It went unnoticed.

“...and I keep thinking, she’s still really, really pretty, right?” Callie added. “Which makes me realize I’m an ass for even thinking about her, because I have a girlfriend who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, only now she doesn't want anything to do with my pretty parts. It sucks.”

Cristina mimicked hanging herself with an invisible rope. Callie was oblivious to all of it, so rather than respond, she stared at the bottles lining Joe’s shelves and wondered how much it would cost to empty them all. If this conversation went on much longer, she was likely to clean him out before the end of the night. “Why are you still with Hahn if it’s that bad?” she did ask, pushing another glass of the glowing blue substance under Callie’s nose.

Callie didn’t have the heart to voice the doubts that had been percolating in her own head as of late. “It wasn’t always,” she said. “I keep thinking that it won’t be like this forever, that we’ll get our rhythm back. Maybe all we have to do is try harder.”

“So cut Robbins out of the picture,” Cristina countered. “Simplify things. Work on your thing with Hahn and don’t invite drama into the mix.”

Callie groaned and gave her face a hard rub. “I don’t know anymore. I want be on good terms with Arizona too, only for some stupid reason I’m screwing up both relationships. Yay me.”

“You’re terrible at other people, Torres.”

“Tell me about it.”

“To being better suited for Hermit-om than social interaction,” Cristina toasted, clinking shot glasses with Callie.

“Amen.” Callie threw caution to the wind and drank the radioactive waste.

Cristina was immensely glad she wasn’t in her ex-roommate’s predicament, especially not with the two particular people this conversation revolved around. “Throw them in the same room and let ‘em hem rip each other’s hair out.”

“Hell no,” Callie said with a bark of laughter, raising another beer glass to her lips only to pause. “Actually, that might be kinda hot.”

Cristina decided to let that one slide out of the kindness of her heart - and so she didn’t have the mental image seared into her brain. “Just tell Hahn you’re hanging out with Robbins and if she doesn’t like it, tough. She should trust you, and if you don’t trust yourself, then be honest with her. Maybe you’re not meant to be together if things are this hard.”

Callie looked at Cristina like she had grown a third eyeball. “Since when did you get all deep and insightful?”

“Oh I don’t know, I’m drunk, leave me alone,” Cristina said dismissively, slamming her glass down on the counter. Somehow she was in better shape than Callie, whose eyes were starting to droop. “Screw ‘em all, only not literally. Unless it’s your birthday hooker, then you can have ‘at-er.”

Callie froze. There was one too many mentions of said hooker for her liking. This wasn’t an idea she wanted Cristina to remember come morning; certainly not in a few weeks when her birthday rolled around. “Please tell me you did not order a hooker for my birthday?” she asked uneasily. “If you want to be crude, buy me a boob cake. No hookers.” She snaked Cristina’s water glass away and stole an ice cube floating along the top. “Ooh, and chocolate - not vanilla.”

Cristina looked confused. “The hooker or the cake?”

“The cake, Cristina.”

The conversation migrated to viable options for Callie’s birthday bash in a month’s time. They discussed various ways to get rip-roaringly drunk and justify it given that they were both in their mid-thirties. Callie made it clear that anyone attempting a surprise party would find themselves missing limbs.

“You know what you need?” Cristina asked out of the blue. A wasteland of empty, deserted shot glasses littered the counter in front of them.

Callie grunted in response, eyelids were drooping as she was on the brink of letting herself take a nap in public. “A hooker?” she mused, raising her head just enough to drink some water.

“No, not a hooker,” Cristina said. “You need to dance it out before you explode from all of that pent up sexual frustration.

Callie grunted again and barely moved. “I don’t feel like dancing. Or moving. Or being awake.”

Cristina’s scowl grew more pronounced. “You always want to dance,” she urged. “Even back when we were roommates, I used to have to pry you off of the dance floor. Come on, you didn’t want to come out with me tonight either and now look at you. You’re sulking on a bar stool, it’s pathetic.”

There wasn’t any room for arguing when Callie felt this drunk. Dancing would lead to a disastrous reliving of her first hangover at age seventeen, back in Florida. The only difference now was that she had an actual tiny human to look after, something that filled her belly with dread as she slid from her stool. “I better head out. Mark and Julia are gonna register her for pre-school by the time I crawl up the stairs. But thanks, Yang, you’re a good friend. Mostly.”

Cristina watched as Callie missed patting her on the shoulder, instead stroking thin air about a foot to her left. “Wow. You’re going to take care of a baby tonight?” she asked skeptically.

Callie already knew she was going to pay a hefty price in the morning but right now that was the least of her worries. The utter lack of tolerance she had these days, mixed with a few of those weird blue shot things Cristina kept feeding her, left her brains in a scrambled mess. The reality that she had majorly underestimated her ability to handle herself tonight was starting to sink in.

“Oh, crap,” she grumbled, leaning heavily into the bar. “This is your fault.”

Cristina started to smirk, unafraid. “As godmother to your spawn, I declare myself helpful, unless it involves crappy diapers, because those I will not touch. Also, I’m gonna stay on your couch, ‘cause your apartment is closer and no kid should stay at Sloan’s overnight. Okay?”

Callie wasn’t in any shape to argue. At this point she would need the extra set of hands.

She let Cristina grab her by the shoulders and shove her in the right direction, cursing when they both rebounded off the door frame and stumbled into the street.

***

Somehow, in the short walk between Joe’s bar and the apartment, Cristina just about sobered up while Callie had a harder time walking in a straight line. She felt slightly nauseous, though it probably had more to do with shame. What was supposed to be one drink had turned into several and the effects were magnified by her lower-than-average tolerance. Callie was drunk and felt like an irresponsible idiot because of it.

Also, she really had to pee.

It was Cristina who found the necessary keys to get inside, Cristina who flung the door open, and Cristina who guided her very drunk, very woozy self through the living room and into her bedroom. She dumped Callie’s limp body on the bed and stepped back to survey the scene.

Callie rolled on her back, emitting a low, pathetic moan. “Ow.”

Cristina’s mouth twitched but she kept any snide comments to herself. “Change, puke and brush your teeth - not necessarily in that order. I’ll go grab Sofia from Mark’s,” she relayed to the motionless lump. “Or don’t move, whatever works for you.”

Callie grunted noncommittally and listened to Cristina’s footsteps move away. She stayed put for a good ten seconds before heaving herself from the mattress and zombie-shuffling towards the bathroom. It was now or never, and she really didn’t fancy going to bed without her teeth brushed or bladder emptied.

If there was one thing she could be glad of, it was that she hadn’t consumed enough to be sick. Those days were long gone and even depressed and lonely Callie knew better than to shirk her responsibilities. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, stripped down and padded into the bedroom to change without incident.

After pulling a t-shirt on backwards - twice - she shuffled into the main room just as Cristina returned with Sofia. “Hey, baby girl,” she murmured, smiling dopily and following her old roommate into the nursery. Sofia yawned and blinked curiously over Cristina’s shoulder at her mother.

“Da!”

“I think she’s calling you Daddy,” Cristina said wryly.

“Nah, that’s just her way of shaming her idiot mother for dumping her off at a friend’s,” Callie sighed. She brushed a hand across Sofia’s fuzzy head.

“Time for bed,” Cristina said to the baby, holding her out to Callie for a sloppy kiss before depositing her in the crib. She was already changed and in a onesie thanks to Julia. “For all of us. I’m sleeping on your couch tonight because you both need a babysitter.”

Callie had to close her eyes to keep the world from spinning as she leaned heavily into the door frame. “Some mom I am,” she exhaled, defeated. “I feel like a big ball of crap.”

Cristina, surprisingly, waved her off. “Stop with the pity party, so you’ve had a bad night,” she argued, though it was clear Callie didn’t buy it. “Look, you are a great mom, okay? You’ve turned your life upside-down and inside-out to care for that little chubby monkey in there. You’re going through a rough patch, you’re allowed to have a night to yourself.”

“You can’t have nights off when you’re a parent, it doesn’t work like that,” Callie berated, pinching the bridge of her nose as her stomach twisted into a ball.

Cristina ground her teeth together as she ushered Callie from the nursery and stood in the doorway. “I’m here, okay? She’s going to be fine.”

“But-”

“I’ve taken care of an infant before. No one died.”

That was true, Callie thought. It didn’t make her hesitate any less.

“Go lie down before you pass out and I have to drag your lifeless body back to bed,” Cristina barked, jabbing a finger into her chest. “You’re ten feet tall and I’m a twig.”

Callie met Cristina’s expression and ended up smiling. “Thanks,” she said quietly, especially grateful to her in that moment. With one last kiss blown in Sofia’s direction, Callie lumbered across the apartment to her bedroom. The world was spinning slow enough that she knew she only had about thirty seconds of stamina remaining.

Cristina shook her head and looked back at the baby, who was staring at her through the bars of her crib. “No puking, no pooping, and no food until morning. You already ate. Do we understand each other?”

Sofia blinked serenely and let out a big yawn. “Ma.”

“Good.” Cristina turned off the lights and settled the baby in, wondering vaguely if she would regret this decision come morning.

***

If there was one thing Callie had learned in her thirty-five years on this planet, it was that she was way too old to handle hangovers with any sort of dignity.

It was all she could do to shower without crumbling into a weepy mess on the bathroom floor at seven in the morning, which didn’t exactly bode well for rounds in a few hours. The idea of leaving the bedroom to face the world was horrendous. Unfortunately, lying in bed all day wasn’t an option when she had a baby depending on her - a baby she had essentially left with Cristina Yang for almost seven hours now. That alone was enough to force Callie out of bed, eyes puffy and bloodshot.

The sound of slippers rubbing against carpet made Cristina look up from where she was feeding Sofia in her highchair. She cracked a grin at Callie’s dishevelled appearance. “Looks like mommy had a rough night,” she teased, ignoring Sofia as the baby tried repeatedly to get at the applesauce spoon her Godmother was holding just out of reach.

Callie stopped in her tracks, pressing her fingertips to her temples. Her head was pounding; she didn’t even attempt to respond to Cristina’s statement, opting for a drawn-out moan instead. “Coffee.”

“Already made,” Cristina declared, refocusing on feeding the miniature version of her friend. The lack of applesauce and Cheerios strewn around the kitchen was shocking.

Callie changed direction and shuffled to the coffee pot. “Since when did you become Susie Homemaker?” she asked in a raspy voice, pouring herself a fresh cup. The aroma itself stirred something in her brain and she was able to bring Cristina and Sofia into focus. That was a start.

“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’,” Cristina said, turning the spoonful of applesauce she was holding into an airplane and directing it to Sofia’s eager mouth.

Callie set the coffee pot on the counter and took a long sip before the scene unfolding in front of her fully registered. Cristina Yang was awake before eight in the morning. Not only was she awake, she was feeding Sofia, who was already cleaned up, in her day clothes and ready for daycare. She even had a bib fastened around her neck. Callie almost choked on her coffee in surprise.

Cristina quickly glanced over her shoulder as Callie cleared coffee from her lungs. “Don’t die on me, I can’t do this for more than one day in a row,” she said, completely serious, turning around to wipe errant applesauce that had missed Sofia’s mouth altogether.

Callie watched her former roommate like she was a chimpanzee using tools for the first time. It was quite remarkable. She made a mental note to consider Cristina as an emergency babysitter someday, even if she still wasn’t at the top of the list.

Smirking at how bizarre this morning was shaping up to be, Callie shuffled closer and plopped a loving kiss on Sofia’s forehead. “Morning, baby,” she cooed, emitting a pitiful groan as her head throbbed. “I am never doing last night again.”

“Did you get all the girlfriend rage out of your system?” Cristina asked, sticking a spoonful of applesauce in Sofia’s mouth before grabbing an open box of Cheerios from the counter. “Has Ice Queen called yet?”

Callie’s amusement faded. It was too early and her brain was throbbing at too high of a rate to think. “I haven’t even had coffee yet, don’t start on that again,” she grumbled, sinking into the chair next to Sofia’s highchair, grumpily propping her elbow on the table.

“Quit whining, you’ve been through worse than this,” Cristina argued. “Do I need to run down the list for you again?” She was saved from having to do exactly that when Callie took a wayward smack from Sofia’s waving fist.

Callie scrunched her nose and eased her daughter’s arm away before it could aim at her face a second time. “I don’t want to work today,” she moaned into her coffee mug.

Sofia looked curiously at her mother, stretching out a chubby arm and grasping a fist in the air, as though trying to tug on her hair. She let out a string of baby babbles, kicking her feet impatiently in her highchair before emitting a high-pitched squeal.

Callie’s hackles rose and her brain started to leak. “Oh, sweetie, please no,” she groaned, reaching over again to distract Sofia. “Mommy’s head hurts. It’s quiet time now. Yay quiet time, remember?”

While Sofia stared crossly at her mother, Cristina took a moment to forage through Callie’s food cupboard in search of their own breakfast. Without warning, a torrent of pasta boxes and soup cans rained down around her, rebounding off of every surface and crushing several of her toes in the process. Cringing and with a mountain of food settling noisily at her feet, she watched Callie take on the appearance of someone about to throw up.

“Oops. Sorry.”

Callie’s complexion had greened significantly and she mashed her palms into the side of her face, much like one trying to suffocate a ringing bell. It took a moment before she looked up again, leveling a furious glare at Cristina that made her hastily start to clean up the mess.

“If you kill me, I have a witness,” Cristina said, gesturing at Sofia. “What kind of lesson would that be teaching her?”

“That people with hangovers are not to be messed with,” Callie snarled, though the nausea was preventing her from following through.

Luckily for Cristina, dismemberment took a backseat to someone knocking on the front door. “Is Mrs. Feinstein still living downstairs?” she asked, referencing the elderly woman with a complete intolerance for noise. Even for her, this had to be record timing.

“Callie?” came a different yet equally familiar voice muffled in the hallway.

Erica was the last person Callie expected to show up this early in the morning. “Crap,” she hissed under her breath, shooting a feverish glance at Cristina. “Go in the guest room and shut the door.”

Cristina, who was busy juggling boxes of cereal in her arms, paused on her way to the cupboard. “Why, is she gonna think we had the lesbian sex or something? I’m not even sure how that stuff works.”

“Just do it!” Callie snapped, flapping a hand at Sofia’s nursery. “She’s already pissed off at me, I don’t need you beaking off and making things worse.”

Cristina rolled her eyes dramatically and she stepped over the pile of soup cans still scattered over the floor. “Fine, but no angry make-up sex while I’m in there, you got me? Even if you need to get laid, do it on your own time when it won’t scar me for life.”

Callie practically ran over and shut the door in Cristina’s face. “Stay in there and be quiet!” With a forced sense of calm, she then scurried to the front door, calling out a pleasant, “Just a second!” along the way.

When she was sure her face looked the least amount of hungover she could arrange it to, Callie yanked open the door. “Erica, hi.”

Erica looked just as awkward as Callie felt, shifting her belongings over one shoulder and offering Callie a weak smile. “Hey.”

Callie desperately tried to hide the newest wave of nausea washing through her system. “Hey,” she echoed, aware they were already repeating themselves. “What are you, um…? I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to…”

Erica licked her lips and nodded to the living room. “Can I come in? Or would you rather stand out in the hall in your pajamas?” Callie blushed and stepped back, and Erica gingerly stepped inside.

Neither of them seemed keen to make eye contact, so Erica glanced around the living room for the easiest topic available. “Is Sofia awake?”

“More so than me,” Callie mused, nodding to the kitchen.

Sofia emitted another piercing squeak and Erica walked over to her, missing the pained expression crossing Callie’s face. “Hi, kiddo,” she smiled, right away noticing the mess covering most of the floor. “Had a tantrum, did we?”

Callie followed Erica into the kitchen and hurriedly swiped away the most precariously placed soup cans and cracker boxers. “Yeah, well, y’know me. Klutzy-klutzy,” she laughed nervously.

Erica set her purse on the counter. “Need some help?”

Callie shook her head and dumped everything she had grabbed into the kitchen sink, to be dealt with later. “Nah, that’s okay. Can I get you something? Coffee? Toast?” A handbook for how to get through this awkward conversation? she added silently to herself.

“No. I’m not staying long.” Erica folder her arms, then thought better and replaced them by her sides. “I’ve got to get to the hospital, but I wanted us to talk first.” She ran her hand gently across Sofia’s head; Sofia giggled and stuffed a Cheerio up her nose, which Erica quickly plucked away.

Callie waited for her to elaborate, not wanting to step in and extract the information from Erica herself. Whatever she had come to say, Callie planned to just sit back and listen. In the meantime, the silence gave her a chance to stuff down some of the pain trying to weld itself to the inside of her skull.

Erica finally sorted her thoughts and looked up to meet Callie’s weary gaze. “Look, I have a problem with Robbins.”

Callie bit her tongue and just barely kept from retorting.

“I don’t just mean your history together,” Erica went on. “Having her come here and take on this patient when I’ve been advocating to get on that trial for months is a real slap in the face from Richard. She’s younger and less experienced, and she is not a cardiothoracic surgeon. She refuses to acknowledge that an experimental procedure like this on a child is extremely risky and more likely to do harm than good.”

It was news to Callie that Erica had wanted in on this clinical trial before it came to Seattle in the first place. She opened her mouth to say something but Erica raised a hand to silence her. Taking the hint, Callie kept her thoughts to herself.

Erica rushed to continue before either of them had the chance to get defensive. “That aside, no, it’s not easy for me knowing you two were involved, especially to the extent you were. Add the two scenarios together and maybe you can see where I’m coming from.”

She paused again to gather her thoughts, brow furrowed as she searched for the right words. “I don’t appreciate you lying to me, Callie. It’s not okay for you to say one thing to my face and then go sneaking around with her behind my back. I’m sorry for the argument, but I’m not sorry for being offended you would take me for stupid.”

Callie exhaled loudly, feeling some of the dread release. Guilt came flooding in to replace it almost immediately. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you,” she admitted, running her fingers through her hair. “This whole thing just kind of came out of nowhere and caught me off guard. It’s not a good excuse, I handled it badly. Really badly,” she added, letting her shoulders sag. “I’m sorry I lied. I’m an assh- d’um, jerkface,” she corrected with a quick glance at Sofia. Erica chuckled, allowing Callie’s relief to finally settled in as she realized the worst part was over. She extended a hand; Erica squeezed it.

“I do want to be completely honest with you about one thing, though,” Callie hedged after the peaceful exchange. She needed to say this now or risk the same thing happening a second or third time in the coming weeks. “Arizona is going to be around the hospital a lot and yes, there is a part of me that wants to be friends. We’re adults and I’m not going to duck into on-call rooms and supply closets to avoid her whenever we’re in the same place.” She waited for Erica to digest this. “Is that something you can be okay with?”

To Callie’s surprise, Erica managed to smile and make it seem genuine. “Yes, of course, Callie. I wouldn’t expect you to avoid her, despite my accusations last night.” She laced their fingers and squeezed her girlfriend’s hand. “I trust you and I promise I’ll do my best to get along with the know-it-all as long as she’s here.”

Callie lifted an eyebrow.

Erica had to roll her eyes. “With Dr. Robbins,” she corrected, albeit begrudgingly.

A grin tugged at Callie’s mouth. “Okay then, so...we’re good?” she asked tentatively, taking a step forward.

“We’re good,” Erica echoed, leaning in to give Callie a quick peck on the lips. “I hate to run, but I’ve got back to back surgeries this morning and then a few consults. And I’ll probably have to sit down with...Dr. Robbins.” It was an effort to say her name without seeming sour about it. “I’ll see you later?”

“Definitely,” Callie agreed, watching Erica bend over to give Sofia quick a kiss.

“Bye munchkin,” Erica said softly before Callie walked her to the door. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” Callie smiled. Erica gave her another kiss before sweeping into the hallway, and Callie slowly closed the door, turning around and leaning against it.

Now that Erica was gone, she replayed the conversation in her mind. It was weird, she expected more venom and accusations to be flung back and forth. Erica coming to apologize almost never happened, not unless she-

Cristina chose that moment to unceremoniously fling open the nursery door; Callie, who had forgotten that Cristina was even in the apartment, spooked. “God! Do you ever do anything quietly?” she demanded, willing her heart to slow down.

Cristina immediately returned to start shoving boxes of crap in the cupboard, as though the interruption had never happened. “You want me to pretend I wasn’t eavesdropping or should I point out the obvious?”

Callie shifted her weight. “What does that mean?”

“She’s jealous.” Perched on her toes, stretching to shove a box on the top shelf, Cristina glanced over her shoulder. “And she thinks if she’s nicer about it, you won’t go running back to Roller Girl the next time you two get into it.”

Callie’s expression hardened and she shot Cristina a nasty glare. “Okay, unlike some people in this room, an apology is just an apology.”

“She’s jealous,” Cristina lamented, speaking as though Callie were incredibly stupid for not figuring this out on her own. “You’re just afraid of more conflict so you don’t want to see it. Trust me, she’s my boss, I know her better than you do. Hahn does the same thing with Webber or the Board; if she’s afraid of getting overruled, she’ll play nice and get the ball back in her court.”

“The same could be said for every single surgeon in that building,” Callie pointed out. “Erica’s not that vindictive. She forgave me for being a lying idiot, so I can forgive her for making me feel bad about it.” Even as the words left her mouth, Callie frowned at her lack of rationale.

Cristina didn’t care enough to argue, and at that moment, she smelled something that gave her the perfect excuse to leave. “And on that note, your mini me has pooped.”

Callie, despite her irritation, smiled. “Let me guess, you’re taking off?”

“She’s eaten and burped more times than any human that size should, so my work here is done,” Cristina affirmed. “Besides, I need to get home and shower before going back to work, because apparently that’s all I ever do, and yet my boss remains ungrateful.” Grabbing her bag and coat from the couch, Cristina rushed for the exit before diaper duty became a thing.

Callie nodded, her mind already spiralling down the rabbit hole it had been trapped in since last night. “Yeah, I’ll see you later. And Cristina,” she called out, waiting for her old roommate to pause in the open doorway. “Thank you,” she said quietly, “really.”

Cristina’s grin was slightly less mocking than usual. “Any time.”

---

Continue to 5B

sly, callie/arizona, grey's anatomy, fic

Previous post Next post
Up