(no subject)
Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy
Title: rock, skate, roll, bounce
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Summary: “You ramble a lot, don’t you?”
Spoilers: 5.16 - An Honest Mistake
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Shondaland and ABC.
So, okay, Callie got a pretty affirmative blow-off - twice in one day, even - but see, Callie was actually listening to Mark and walking tall, and that Callie? Badass, bone-breaking, confident Callie? Did not take no for an answer. Even twice. Because at the end of the day, Arizona did kiss Callie first, and if Callie remembers correctly (and she’s pretty sure she does), Arizona never actually responded to her comment on that very topic, which makes Callie fairly certain that the third time might be the charm with the bubbly peds surgeon.
Which is why she’s taking one last sip of her beer, couraging up, and walking towards Arizona, because of course most of the pivotal moments in Callie’s life happen on hospital property (which definitely included Joe’s, as far as Callie was concerned), so why should this one be any different? And Arizona is wearing a low-cut black top that Callie really can’t stop staring at, so at this point it’s basically out of Callie’s control.
“Calliope?”
And that’s when Callie realizes that she’s only thought as far as actually walking up to Arizona, and nothing past it, and now she’s standing here, in front of her incredibly perky girlcrush, completely incapable of remembering important words in the English language.
“..Crap.”
Arizona furrows her brow, and wow, the way she’s looking at Callie, confused, with a smile that looks a bit pasted on, is incredibly adorable, and Callie’s trying really, really hard to remember how to ask an attractive person on a date, again.
“Calliope?” Arizona asks again, actual concern flitting across her face.
“I cook really well,” is all Callie can manage, suddenly.
Arizona laughs. “Chicken piccata, I know.”
And that is exactly when Callie’s vocabulary skills come back, because Arizona remembered, which means Callie totally, totally has a chance here.
“And I’m failing at English, which I know doesn’t really help my case at all, because I was trying to do this thing where I prove that I’m not a newborn, but it turns out I only had one big ‘not a newborn’ speech in me, and I used it up last week in front of your date. Speaking of which, you’re not out on a date with-” Callie pauses, glancing around, eyes landing on the one person in close vicinity to Arizona. “Sydney Heron, are you? Because if you are, a) that’s a little too much perky in one place, and b) this is so not my month.”
This results in a full-out guffaw, and Callie can feel herself standing up taller, confidence seeping back in with each mini moment of possible positive reinforcement from Arizona.
“You ramble a lot, don’t you?” Arizona asks in a way that’s less of a question and more of a statement, once her own laughter and incredulous sputters of “Sydney Heron? Sydney-let’s-hug-it-out-Heron?!?” have died down.
Callie just shakes her head at herself, chuckling a little. “How’d you guess?”
“A rambler can always tell when they meet one of their own,” she smiles, which makes Callie grin back at her in spite of herself, in spite of the fact that, intuition or not, she could be facing rejection for the third time in two weeks.
“So then, as a fellow rambler, it would be great if you just let me know right now if you’re still seeing Jamie-“
“Julie.”
“If you’re still seeing Julie, or if I can ask the question I want to ask, and do it quick before I start listing all of my credentials,” Callie finishes, moving to lean on the bar for support.
“What question?” Arizona asks, even though she’s pretty sure she already knows.
“Go on a date with me?” The words spill out of Callie’s mouth in an almost-mumble, but they’re finally out there.
“I can’t lie and say that’s not tempting - because it is. Tempting. But, less than stellar date with Julie aside, I did say no for a reason, Calliope.”
“What can I say, I’m persistent.” Callie really, really hates desperation, and she wouldn’t even be uttering a sentence like this if Arizona’s dimples weren’t so cute, and if her lips didn’t look amazingly kissable right now. “Because I’m pretty sure I deserve an upgrade to kindergartener at least.”
And Arizona sighs, because the date with Julie really was kind of a disastrous flop, and because, well, she’d had all these plans when she kissed Callie in the bathroom, before she’d known about the newness. And these plans had involved things like dressy dinner dates and picnics in the park and, yes, cafeteria lunches, and… She sighs again, giving in.
“Okay.”
“Okay? Really?”
“Really. On one condition.”
“What?” And Callie has to resist the urge to shake her head at herself again, because that sounded just over the edge of too-excited.
“I get to choose what and where.”
Callie kind of can’t believe it was actually that easy, in the end. “Okay.”
“Be ready tomorrow at 7:30,” Arizona says, because she sort of knows when Callie’s shift ends. “And don’t be dressy.”
Callie just nods in disbelief, because the clichéd third time actually was the charm. “7:30, casual. Got it.”
*
The car ride’s a little bit awkward, and they both end up starting sentences they never finish, or they interrupt each other, babbles spilling onto and into one another, and it goes on like this until Arizona wisely turns the radio on. As the conversation shifts from their favorite music to dance to to the embarrassing songs they’ve belted in the shower, Arizona pulls into a parking space, and when Callie realizes where they are, she can’t quite believe it.
“A roller rink?”
Arizona blushes a little, there, because okay, a roller rink is super cheesy, and she knows it, but her Heelys have made her a little addicted to the sensation, and there’s this thing where her brain makes all sorts of odd connections, and so between that and the rumor she’s heard about Callie once dancing in her underwear in the basement, skating around a roller rink to cheesy eighties pop seemed like exactly the kind of date she wanted to take Callie on.
“Seriously, Arizona. A roller rink?” Callie repeats, feeling proud of herself for hiding her excitement about how actually adorable this is.
“Seriously, Calliope. A roller rink,” Arizona imitates, chuckling. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Plus, completely original, am I right?”
“It’s definitely that,” Callie grins, and she really wants to hold Arizona’s hand right now, because holy crap, those dimples, but she has to be cool Callie, suave Callie, not eager thirteen-year-old Callie, so she stuffs them into the pockets of her black leather jacket instead.
“So you know, we have to actually go inside the building to skate,” Arizona replies, gesturing with her head towards the door, then loops her arm through Callie’s before either of them have a chance to analyze and evaluate the situation.
And Callie doesn’t really understand how Arizona went from total rejection to this whole arm-in-hers business, but she really, really can’t complain, and she’s been trying very hard not to do the overthinking thing, because it’s kind of gotten her nowhere in the past.
When they get inside, a crease finds its way across Callie’s brow, because there’s something different about this. There’s the metallic pings of old school arcade games, there’s a distinct overpowering amount of serious power chords, there’s the smell of cheap pizza, but still something is missing. She surveys the room again, standing still at Arizona’s side, and it becomes instantly clear. There are no men. She leans in close, whispering in Arizona’s ear.
“Are we in a room full of lesbians?”
“Bisexuals too,” Arizona stage-whispers back with a smile. “You said you wanted an upgrade, so. Skate with me in a room full of girls who love girls, and I just might graduate you to first grade,” she adds, sliding her arm out of Callie’s, walking away from her over to the skate rental desk.
Callie can only laugh to herself, because wow, Arizona definitely, definitely wins this round. She’s caught Callie, and if Callie bails because she feels like the sheer amount of estrogen might make her menstruate on the spot, she’ll probably lose any hope of sliding her fingers through those blonde curls. So she moves her feet and follows Arizona, walking tall, the hand not holding her purse sliding to rest on Arizona’s hip as she comes to a stop next to her.
She can feel Arizona jump just a little under her touch, and she congratulates herself while Arizona gets their skates from the guy behind the counter. Arizona hands Callie her skates, a small, closed lip smile on her face.
“Why don’t you find a place to put on your skates - I’ll be right back, okay?” says Arizona, pointing to the block-like structures where some of the women are doing the same, then walks in the direction of the bathroom.
Almost ten minutes later, Callie’s kind of starting to worry, because her skates are on and either Arizona has some kind of bladder problem she’s neglected to inform her about, or she’s getting awkwardly left behind, and Callie so can’t deal with rejection from the peds surgeon again.
But then she spots blonde curls behind a group of three laughing women, and every insecure thought she was about to have flies completely out the window, because holy GOD, Arizona is definitely, definitely not wearing her jeans anymore. Arizona Robbins, in what Callie figures is some kind of spontaneous urge to fulfill every seventies roller rink fantasy ever, is wearing the most amazing pair of navy blue short shorts ever created, and good GOD the wait was worth it, because those legs? Should always, always be on display. Always.
And Callie isn’t even sure she can actually handle this, right now, because her palms are teenage boy sweaty, and she’s about to skate around a roller rink full of lesbians with a hot blonde in daisy dukes, and she thinks maybe this is what it’s like to be Mark, because she kind of can’t really think about anything except having those same legs wrapped around her.
So when Arizona grins at her, setting down her bag besides Callie’s, Callie’s face is beet red, and at this point there’s really nothing she can do about it.
“You okay, Calliope?” Arizona asks sweetly, a hint of amusement in her tone.
“Fine! Great! Awesome!” Callie blathers.
“Super?” Arizona finishes.
“Yes, that!”
Arizona laughs. “Ready to skate?”
And Callie can only nod as she follows Arizona onto the rink, sliding in step beside her, trying to remember where the hell sane, cool, collected Callie seems to have disappeared to.
As the two skate, circling the rink with the other couples, Callie starts to calm down, letting the strains of some song she thought she’d forgotten wash over her as she moves. And that’s when she starts really watching the other women around them, starts noticing that the majority of them are doing a terrible job of trying not to completely ogle her date, and she takes a chance, sliding her hand into Arizona’s, twining their fingers together.
The blonde attending squeezes Callie’s hand, then smiles, and Callie can’t help but grin, because that’s the same smile, the I-just-kissed-you-in-a-bathroom-at-Joe’s smile, the “I think you’ll know” smile, and Callie squeezes her hand back, because this date, this cheesy, chick flick date, is probably the best one Callie’s ever been on. So she ventures a question.
“So do I get a cap and gown, or am I stuck in diapers?”
Arizona considers Callie for a moment, takes in the disco ball reflecting colors across her date’s dark hair, then leans in, kissing Callie softly, lightly, before pulling away, eyes twinkling.
“Play your cards right, and you might even get a diploma.”
Title: rock, skate, roll, bounce
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Summary: “You ramble a lot, don’t you?”
Spoilers: 5.16 - An Honest Mistake
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Shondaland and ABC.
So, okay, Callie got a pretty affirmative blow-off - twice in one day, even - but see, Callie was actually listening to Mark and walking tall, and that Callie? Badass, bone-breaking, confident Callie? Did not take no for an answer. Even twice. Because at the end of the day, Arizona did kiss Callie first, and if Callie remembers correctly (and she’s pretty sure she does), Arizona never actually responded to her comment on that very topic, which makes Callie fairly certain that the third time might be the charm with the bubbly peds surgeon.
Which is why she’s taking one last sip of her beer, couraging up, and walking towards Arizona, because of course most of the pivotal moments in Callie’s life happen on hospital property (which definitely included Joe’s, as far as Callie was concerned), so why should this one be any different? And Arizona is wearing a low-cut black top that Callie really can’t stop staring at, so at this point it’s basically out of Callie’s control.
“Calliope?”
And that’s when Callie realizes that she’s only thought as far as actually walking up to Arizona, and nothing past it, and now she’s standing here, in front of her incredibly perky girlcrush, completely incapable of remembering important words in the English language.
“..Crap.”
Arizona furrows her brow, and wow, the way she’s looking at Callie, confused, with a smile that looks a bit pasted on, is incredibly adorable, and Callie’s trying really, really hard to remember how to ask an attractive person on a date, again.
“Calliope?” Arizona asks again, actual concern flitting across her face.
“I cook really well,” is all Callie can manage, suddenly.
Arizona laughs. “Chicken piccata, I know.”
And that is exactly when Callie’s vocabulary skills come back, because Arizona remembered, which means Callie totally, totally has a chance here.
“And I’m failing at English, which I know doesn’t really help my case at all, because I was trying to do this thing where I prove that I’m not a newborn, but it turns out I only had one big ‘not a newborn’ speech in me, and I used it up last week in front of your date. Speaking of which, you’re not out on a date with-” Callie pauses, glancing around, eyes landing on the one person in close vicinity to Arizona. “Sydney Heron, are you? Because if you are, a) that’s a little too much perky in one place, and b) this is so not my month.”
This results in a full-out guffaw, and Callie can feel herself standing up taller, confidence seeping back in with each mini moment of possible positive reinforcement from Arizona.
“You ramble a lot, don’t you?” Arizona asks in a way that’s less of a question and more of a statement, once her own laughter and incredulous sputters of “Sydney Heron? Sydney-let’s-hug-it-out-Heron?!?” have died down.
Callie just shakes her head at herself, chuckling a little. “How’d you guess?”
“A rambler can always tell when they meet one of their own,” she smiles, which makes Callie grin back at her in spite of herself, in spite of the fact that, intuition or not, she could be facing rejection for the third time in two weeks.
“So then, as a fellow rambler, it would be great if you just let me know right now if you’re still seeing Jamie-“
“Julie.”
“If you’re still seeing Julie, or if I can ask the question I want to ask, and do it quick before I start listing all of my credentials,” Callie finishes, moving to lean on the bar for support.
“What question?” Arizona asks, even though she’s pretty sure she already knows.
“Go on a date with me?” The words spill out of Callie’s mouth in an almost-mumble, but they’re finally out there.
“I can’t lie and say that’s not tempting - because it is. Tempting. But, less than stellar date with Julie aside, I did say no for a reason, Calliope.”
“What can I say, I’m persistent.” Callie really, really hates desperation, and she wouldn’t even be uttering a sentence like this if Arizona’s dimples weren’t so cute, and if her lips didn’t look amazingly kissable right now. “Because I’m pretty sure I deserve an upgrade to kindergartener at least.”
And Arizona sighs, because the date with Julie really was kind of a disastrous flop, and because, well, she’d had all these plans when she kissed Callie in the bathroom, before she’d known about the newness. And these plans had involved things like dressy dinner dates and picnics in the park and, yes, cafeteria lunches, and… She sighs again, giving in.
“Okay.”
“Okay? Really?”
“Really. On one condition.”
“What?” And Callie has to resist the urge to shake her head at herself again, because that sounded just over the edge of too-excited.
“I get to choose what and where.”
Callie kind of can’t believe it was actually that easy, in the end. “Okay.”
“Be ready tomorrow at 7:30,” Arizona says, because she sort of knows when Callie’s shift ends. “And don’t be dressy.”
Callie just nods in disbelief, because the clichéd third time actually was the charm. “7:30, casual. Got it.”
*
The car ride’s a little bit awkward, and they both end up starting sentences they never finish, or they interrupt each other, babbles spilling onto and into one another, and it goes on like this until Arizona wisely turns the radio on. As the conversation shifts from their favorite music to dance to to the embarrassing songs they’ve belted in the shower, Arizona pulls into a parking space, and when Callie realizes where they are, she can’t quite believe it.
“A roller rink?”
Arizona blushes a little, there, because okay, a roller rink is super cheesy, and she knows it, but her Heelys have made her a little addicted to the sensation, and there’s this thing where her brain makes all sorts of odd connections, and so between that and the rumor she’s heard about Callie once dancing in her underwear in the basement, skating around a roller rink to cheesy eighties pop seemed like exactly the kind of date she wanted to take Callie on.
“Seriously, Arizona. A roller rink?” Callie repeats, feeling proud of herself for hiding her excitement about how actually adorable this is.
“Seriously, Calliope. A roller rink,” Arizona imitates, chuckling. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Plus, completely original, am I right?”
“It’s definitely that,” Callie grins, and she really wants to hold Arizona’s hand right now, because holy crap, those dimples, but she has to be cool Callie, suave Callie, not eager thirteen-year-old Callie, so she stuffs them into the pockets of her black leather jacket instead.
“So you know, we have to actually go inside the building to skate,” Arizona replies, gesturing with her head towards the door, then loops her arm through Callie’s before either of them have a chance to analyze and evaluate the situation.
And Callie doesn’t really understand how Arizona went from total rejection to this whole arm-in-hers business, but she really, really can’t complain, and she’s been trying very hard not to do the overthinking thing, because it’s kind of gotten her nowhere in the past.
When they get inside, a crease finds its way across Callie’s brow, because there’s something different about this. There’s the metallic pings of old school arcade games, there’s a distinct overpowering amount of serious power chords, there’s the smell of cheap pizza, but still something is missing. She surveys the room again, standing still at Arizona’s side, and it becomes instantly clear. There are no men. She leans in close, whispering in Arizona’s ear.
“Are we in a room full of lesbians?”
“Bisexuals too,” Arizona stage-whispers back with a smile. “You said you wanted an upgrade, so. Skate with me in a room full of girls who love girls, and I just might graduate you to first grade,” she adds, sliding her arm out of Callie’s, walking away from her over to the skate rental desk.
Callie can only laugh to herself, because wow, Arizona definitely, definitely wins this round. She’s caught Callie, and if Callie bails because she feels like the sheer amount of estrogen might make her menstruate on the spot, she’ll probably lose any hope of sliding her fingers through those blonde curls. So she moves her feet and follows Arizona, walking tall, the hand not holding her purse sliding to rest on Arizona’s hip as she comes to a stop next to her.
She can feel Arizona jump just a little under her touch, and she congratulates herself while Arizona gets their skates from the guy behind the counter. Arizona hands Callie her skates, a small, closed lip smile on her face.
“Why don’t you find a place to put on your skates - I’ll be right back, okay?” says Arizona, pointing to the block-like structures where some of the women are doing the same, then walks in the direction of the bathroom.
Almost ten minutes later, Callie’s kind of starting to worry, because her skates are on and either Arizona has some kind of bladder problem she’s neglected to inform her about, or she’s getting awkwardly left behind, and Callie so can’t deal with rejection from the peds surgeon again.
But then she spots blonde curls behind a group of three laughing women, and every insecure thought she was about to have flies completely out the window, because holy GOD, Arizona is definitely, definitely not wearing her jeans anymore. Arizona Robbins, in what Callie figures is some kind of spontaneous urge to fulfill every seventies roller rink fantasy ever, is wearing the most amazing pair of navy blue short shorts ever created, and good GOD the wait was worth it, because those legs? Should always, always be on display. Always.
And Callie isn’t even sure she can actually handle this, right now, because her palms are teenage boy sweaty, and she’s about to skate around a roller rink full of lesbians with a hot blonde in daisy dukes, and she thinks maybe this is what it’s like to be Mark, because she kind of can’t really think about anything except having those same legs wrapped around her.
So when Arizona grins at her, setting down her bag besides Callie’s, Callie’s face is beet red, and at this point there’s really nothing she can do about it.
“You okay, Calliope?” Arizona asks sweetly, a hint of amusement in her tone.
“Fine! Great! Awesome!” Callie blathers.
“Super?” Arizona finishes.
“Yes, that!”
Arizona laughs. “Ready to skate?”
And Callie can only nod as she follows Arizona onto the rink, sliding in step beside her, trying to remember where the hell sane, cool, collected Callie seems to have disappeared to.
As the two skate, circling the rink with the other couples, Callie starts to calm down, letting the strains of some song she thought she’d forgotten wash over her as she moves. And that’s when she starts really watching the other women around them, starts noticing that the majority of them are doing a terrible job of trying not to completely ogle her date, and she takes a chance, sliding her hand into Arizona’s, twining their fingers together.
The blonde attending squeezes Callie’s hand, then smiles, and Callie can’t help but grin, because that’s the same smile, the I-just-kissed-you-in-a-bathroom-at-Joe’s smile, the “I think you’ll know” smile, and Callie squeezes her hand back, because this date, this cheesy, chick flick date, is probably the best one Callie’s ever been on. So she ventures a question.
“So do I get a cap and gown, or am I stuck in diapers?”
Arizona considers Callie for a moment, takes in the disco ball reflecting colors across her date’s dark hair, then leans in, kissing Callie softly, lightly, before pulling away, eyes twinkling.
“Play your cards right, and you might even get a diploma.”