sparsenicjade
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The thing about broken bones was that--except in the most extreme of situations--they could be fixed. It was very, very rare that they couldn't be, and when that happened, there were usually bigger, more important problems. Callie liked the straight-forwardness of it all, pardon the pun. She liked having the power to fix broken things, even if it involved inflicting further damage at first.

In her head, at first, the whole Dr. Montgomery thing was like that; something that needed to be fixed. I mean, clearly, fleeing from rooms with patients in them wasn't the type of thing an established gynecologist probably did on a regular basis, so there was something wrong. Broken.

And it should have been easy enough to follow Dr. Montgomery to the bathroom and threaten her with Callie's insane talent for scrabbling over flimsy stall doors, which usually made people laugh and talk a little bit and move on with their lives. Instead Dr. Montgomery swung open the door and revealed herself where she was, mostly long legs and compassion.

Callie looked at the other woman's shoes--heels, for fuck's sake, what kind of a doctor wore heels?--and thought, "yeah, hot." The thought that followed very quickly was, "shit." Because whatever the plan had been, whatever the sequence of events Callie had imagined, clearly things weren't going to happen in that way.

Dr. Montgomery said, "I know it shouldn't affect me like this," and Callie thought about all the things her med school professors had said about distance. Callie had always wanted to call them on their self-righteous excuses for just not really giving a fuck. She didn't want to say that she was glad that this woman was standing in front of a mirror next to her, eyes red with some sort of rediscovered humanity, but she was.

She thought, "Addison," and that was an even worse thought, one that couldn't be encapsulated by a follow-up, "shit."

Callie said, "Let me set the wrist first. Then at least--" She made a face. She didn't mean to, didn't even feel herself do it, but she caught a glimpse of it in the mirror.

"Something will be fixed?" Addison said.

"Times like these when I realize I found myself the right specialty," Callie said, even though Callie had always known that, even before she managed to pull herself together enough to take the MCATs.

"Oddly enough," Addison said softly, "me too."

Callie couldn't understand that, didn't even necessarily want to, but she could appreciate it. She thought, in this case, she could maybe even admire it a bit.

"The bone, then," Addison said.

"Yeah," Callie said, and went to go do some fixing.

*


She shouldn't have done it, of course she shouldn't have. It didn't matter that it was a small thing, her hand on another doctor's shoulder, a grieving doctor's shoulder, but she had thought of that doctor by her first name on more than one occasion. So it was a bad idea.

But she did it.

She did it and there was a small, warm tendril that spiraled up her arm. And that was even worse, because sparks or shivers or any of those normal things were nice and fine and a good place to start--and usually to stop--but spiraling warmth was something that would get out of hand even with both her fists clamped down on top of it.

The only thing to do, the only thing was to walk down the hall and leave Addison to the aftermath of her grief. Only Callie was all sorts of brave and just one type of smart and it wasn't this type. So when Addison and her legs slid down the wall next to Callie and said, "We should get a drink," Callie probably thought about ignoring the poor bastard who was waiting at the other end of her beeper, collarbone or fibula or tibula or whatever the hell else was broken.

Then she remembered that she was a doctor. And that she was worth waiting for.

Which, evidently, Addison had noted.

That was novel and made it easier, somehow, to get up off the floor.

*


Callie waited for Addison to make the second overture, because if there was one thing Callie knew, it was the difference between a spoken "later" or a hypothetical "another time" and an actual one. She'd had enough heartbreak for one year.

In truth, she'd had enough heartbreak for one year that she normally would have thought up some excuse when Addison did find her, less than a week later and said, "So, am I good to cash in on that raincheck?"

Callie caught a glimpse outside. It wasn't raining. "Yeah."

Callie bought the first round of drinks because Addison's eyes were slightly drawn, even when she smiled. Also, it meant that if she needed to, she could bow out after that first round without seeming like an asshole.

She didn't need to. Addison signaled for a second round even as they were bottoming out on the first, which was nice--not needing to pause. Which wasn't to say that things were rushed, or that they couldn't lapse into silence at given moments. It was simply that they seemed to know each other's speed. Which was unusual, and threw Callie a bit at first, but she found a way to settle into it.

Addison finally said, "The other day, in the bathroom. . ."

Callie waited.

"Would you really have climbed over the stall?"

"I've done it for lesser physicians than you."

"You must find'em."

Callie tipped her glass up at that and took a drink.

"Why?"

Callie lowered her glass. "Why do I engage in a reckless and inadvisable pastime of stall-hopping?"

Addison smiled. "Sure, if you want to put it that way."

"Why are you a doctor?"

Addison blinked. "May I assume this has something to do with my question?"

"Everything," Callie assured her.

"It's not just a long story, it's a million long stories."

"Pick the one that feels like being told at this moment."

"My mother miscarried. When I was six. And I watched her, I watched her everyday afterward and thought I could help, because I was ten and we think that as children. Maybe I still think it."

"Suddenly climbing over stalls doesn't seem like that big a thing."

"Ah," Addison said.

"Besides," Callie smiled--a slow, mischievous unfurling of her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, "it was either that or actually do my job."

"Yes, well, heaven forbid."

Callie clinked her glass against Addison's. Addison finished her beer, sucking the last of it from her bottom lip. Callie carefully looked away.

*


Addison brought Callie breakfast one morning, butter croissants and jam and those little cartons of milk that always put Callie in the mind of the donuts she used to buy her senior year of high school. Callie opened hers and asked, "Not a big fan of coffee?"

"Oh, I adore coffee, but every once in a while it occurs to me that I'm going to have osteoporosis before I'm forty, which seems like setting a bad example."

"Conscientious of you."

"I try."

The croissant was flaky, the way the best ones always were, and Callie licked at her fingers once she had finished, scooping up the remnants with her tongue. She checked, carefully, to see if Addison was watching. She was.

"Thanks for breakfast," Callie said. "Any particular reason?"

"You seem like the kind of person who's good at reciprocation."

Callie laughed. "Such a pure and selfless motivation."

"Look, I realize we don't know each other well, but. . ."

"I should figure on you being a self-centered megalomaniac and you should figure on me as a girl who gives as good as she gets?"

Addison finished off her milk. "Something like that."

"Yeah," Callie said. The prospect didn't worry her much.

*


"So, we're flirting, right?" Addison asked when she took the coffee cup that Callie offered up to her the next week.

"The way I see it," Callie confirmed. She took a sip of her own coffee, deep-brewed and more whole milk than coffee.

"Are we rebounding on each other?"

"I'm not certain we're doing anything yet, but I suppose there's that possibility."

"Probability?"

"I'm thinking that depends on you. Because if I were going to pick a substitute, it wouldn't be you. You involve too much thinking."

Addison took a long sip of her coffee, keeping her eyes on Callie. "Was that meant to be a compliment?"

Callie gestured with her hand. "As you will."

"I'd actually like to know."

Callie considered for a moment. "I don't mind doing all the thinking, so maybe, yeah." Then, "Your turn."

"If I was looking for a substitute for Derek--"

Callie waited.

"Let's just say I'd have better options available to me."

For now, that was good enough.

Addison said, "This is good coffee."

Callie narrowed her eyes. "You're a Starbucks person, aren't you?"

"Oh, nothing so high class, I drink the dregs they brew up in the break room."

"When I asked if you liked coffee, I meant the kind that deserved the name."

Addison raised an eyebrow. "A coffee snob? I wouldn't have expected that."

"Old roommate burned it into me. She was the kind of person who ground her own beans. The ones that were, you know, eight hundred dollars a pound. I was in med school at the time, but she had finished an MBA and was actually getting paid. She always hated the way I'd dilute my coffee. Said it defeated the purpose. Real coffee snobs wouldn't have me, is what I'm saying."

"And us plebeians are a little cowed by your high brow sensibilities."

Callie let her gaze travel from Addison's designer heels all the way up to her Sephora-purchased cosmetics and said, "Plebeians."

Addison's smile was self-aware, charming.

Callie snorted softly.

Addison said, even more softly, "I'd have you."

*


But Addison didn't, not for a while, and when they finally did have each other it wasn't as expected as it should have been. Maybe it was that there were more impromptu breakfasts and coffees, and, on rare occasions even a lunch in between. Or maybe it was that somewhere in the middle of those pretty-much-dates, things began to feel less like flirting and more like the ease of routine and friendship.

Then again, it could have just been that Callie was tired and not really in the mood, or that it started with Addison saying, "Look, if you're going to, touch me. And if you're not, well--"

Because Callie had thought a lot of things about Addison, about the rumors she had heard, about the way Derek and Mark looked at her when they didn't notice other people paying attention, about the way she still took things to heart, and about her medical reputation. Callie hadn't thought about how Addison might not know who she was, or what she was worth, at least not all the time.

It should have been obvious. There weren't that many people who did know those things, and certainly not on a consistent basis. Callie didn't number among those who did. But then, it was because Callie didn't fall into that rarefied category that she hadn't noticed Addison watching her for clues. She'd been too busy watching Addison, who wasn't the easiest person in the world to read.

So when Addison opened her mouth to suggest that there was some question as to what Callie might be wanting, Callie looped her hand around the back of Addison's neck, enjoying the way her palm spanned the width of it. Then she took advantage of the fact that Addison was in the middle of a word to fit her mouth up against Addison's and press her tongue firmly inside. Then she pulled back and said, "I am."

Addison rested her forehead against Callie's. "Were you waiting for something?"

"The right moment," Callie said dryly.

Addison laughed a little. The sound had the distinct ring of tiredness to it.

"Look, not that I eschew dirty and semi-public sex, but I thought maybe we'd try the bed thing first. For a while, at least."

"I have a bed," Addison said.

"As it so happens, so do I."

"My sheets are clean."

"You win," Callie said.

"What time does your shift end?"

"Eight."

"I'm off at four. There could be coffee waiting for you."

"I don't trust you to brew it."

"Tea?"

"Milk."

"With cookies?"

"I never turn down cookies."

"That's sort of hot," Addison said, and kissed her again for good measure.

*


The cookies were chocolate chunk with macadamia nuts and Addison had heated them a bit right before Callie showed. Callie asked, "You realize I'm a sure thing at this point, right?"

"I'm a perfectionist," Addison said with a slight smile.

"Yeah, it's sort of annoying," Callie said, and licked at the smudge of chocolate staining the corner of Addison's mouth.

"I'll bet," Addison said, turning her mouth into Callie's.

Addison tasted of cookies and milk and it was almost hard to tell where Callie's mouth ended and Addison's began. Callie brought her hands up and buried them in Addison's hair which was loose, hanging down her back. She dragged her mouth up to Addison's ear and asked, "Where's your bed?"

"Bedroom," Addison said.

"I haven't been given the official tour."

"Right, yes," Addison said, scrunching the front of Callie's scrubs in her fist and pulling her backward. "Follow me."

Short of brute force, Callie had very little choice in the matter. Not that she really minded. Addison was nipping at the curve of Callie's jaw, drawing her tongue lightly over the underside of Callie's chin and she would have followed her anywhere.

Addison's bed was inconveniently high but they managed to scramble atop it. Her spread was a rich navy blue and overwhelmingly fluffy. Callie laughed as they fell through it. "Hedonist."

"Mm," Addison admitted. Then she pulled the fist that was still clasping Callie's top upward. "Off."

Callie pulled the top over her head and threw it to the side. "Anything else?"

Addison pressed her lips between Callie's breasts, right above the juncture of her bra and said, "Lift up a bit."

Callie did and Addison's hands came around back, unlatching Callie's bra. She drew the bra off of her and tossed it over to join the shirt.

Callie tugged a bit at Addison's top. "Fair's fair."

Addison shifted up on her knees in order to discard her shirt and bra. Callie dragged her hands up Addison's torso to cup beneath her breasts. Addison's head fell back slightly and said, "I love your hands."

Callie drew one back to lever herself up so that she could lap at one of Addison's nipples. Addison panted a bit, "Right, and your mouth." Callie sucked the nipple into her mouth; Addison's breathing grew quicker.

Callie splayed her hand over Addison's back and drew her down onto the bed, flipping herself so that she was atop the other woman. She nipped lightly at the expanse of breastbone between Addison's breasts, then drew up a bit to pull the button of Addison's jeans loose and tug them down. She was wearing black panties, v-cut, and despite the fact that they looked like the kind of thing a girl wore when expecting to get fucked, Callie was pretty sure that was just a daily sort of choice for Addison. As much of a turn on as that was, Callie got rid of them as well.

Then she said, "That day, god, in the bathroom, all I could see was your legs. I would have had you right there."

Addison laughed, husky and low. "I always towered over the boys in high school. It was crushing and embarrassing."

"Bet you were smarter than them, too," Callie dragged her hands down the inside of Addison's thighs, sliding them under Addison's knees, over the underside of her calves to cup over her heels. She lifted Addison's feet up to her mouth, one at a time, kissing at the arches. "Thought you were completely crazy, with those heels, always with those heels."

Her feet were long and slender, like the rest of her, her toenails painted a dark mahogany. Callie bit--less than entirely gently--at the webbing of Addison's ankles. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"Callie," Addison said, but Callie was busy spreading Addison's legs, stretching forward to suck at her clitoris. This last evidently derailed Addison, as she moaned and said, "Callie," again, and this time it didn't sound like anything but a prayer, an encouragement.

Callie said, "Yeah," and laughed a bit, but her mouth was pressed to Addison's vagina, her tongue swiping firmly along the slit. Addison arched; Callie came up with her. She nibbled lightly at Addison's clitoris before moving back down to press her tongue inside Addison, stroking it firmly against her g-spot. Addison was squirming now, and Callie brought her hands up to grip at her hipbones, still her a bit.

"Calliecallie," Addison breathed. Callie laughed a bit more, thought, patience, dear, in a slightly dry, amused mental tone. She licked her way back up to the clitoris, holding her tongue to it shortly. She alternated between the two pleasure spots for a bit until Addison was sobbing slightly--drawn tight underneath Callie's hands--coming.

Callie slid up the bed so that her head was resting next to Addison's. Addison pressed her lips to Callie's and said, "Give me a moment."

She was beyond exquisite, lying there, her eyes half-closed, her lips slightly parted and Callie would have given her quite a bit more than that. She stayed silent.

Addison was still breathing somewhat erratically when she pressed a hand to Callie's stomach, pushing her onto her back. "My turn," she said, and raked her trimmed fingernails lightly over Callie's torso. She took a second to divest Callie of her scrub bottoms and cotton underwear and then continued her assault down over Callie's thighs.

She reached over to her dresser and Callie turned her head to watch. "You keep lube by your bed as a matter of course?"

"Only when I've been trying to get someone like you in bed for several weeks on end."

"Say that again and I'm gonna come before you get to have any fun."

"Oh no you don't," Addison warned. She tipped some of the lube into her palm and rubbed her hands together, warming it.

"You steal that from the hospital?"

"Why? The idea turn you on?"

"Oh baby, oh baby."

Addison laughed, sliding a finger into Callie. Her fingers were long and slender and Callie said, "Yeah, yeah, more."

Addison took her at her word, pulling back to slide two in, and at Callie's rather whiny, "Addison," three. She said, "I want--"

Callie cut her off. "Whatever. I'm easy."

"It's refreshing," Addison said, and pushed a fourth finger in, caressing Callie's clit with her thumb.

"Fuck," Callie said, "fuckfuckfuck."

Addison pressed lightly at one thigh and Callie spread her legs further, said, "Yes." Addison poured some more lube over her hand and rotated it to where she could press her thumb gently but firmly in. The lube was cold and Callie laughed a breathless, shocked laugh at the near overwhelming nature of the sensation. "Sorry, sorry," Addison said, but she was laughing too.

There was the edge of pain then, tight and sharp, but Callie had never much minded that, was mostly into the intensity of things, and this was intense. Then Addison's hand slipped wholly inside and Callie thought, wow, perfectionist.

Addison said, "Callie."

Callie didn't think she was speaking to her, not really, but she said, "Yes, yesyes," because it seemed like the thing to say.

Addison said, "Beautiful," and it didn't really matter if she meant Callie or not, because she felt that way, the whole damn world felt that way.

Callie said, "Touch--" and Addison pressed her free thumb to Callie's clit. Callie gasped wordlessly, coming as she drove herself further onto Addison's hand, into her thumb.

When Callie was done, boneless and satisfied, Addison twisted her hand carefully free and padded to the bathroom to wash her hands. Callie watched her walk--long naked legs, slim back--with a lazy, satiated smile. Addison returned quickly enough, sidling up against Callie.

Callie yawned. "You're good at that."

"Lots of practice," Addison said with a straight face.

"Oh stop, you'll make me jealous." Callie pulled the covers up over them, but not without watching Addison's face, waiting for tacit permission.

Addison just threw one leg over both Callie's and said, "Don't be."

"Yeah," Callie said, draping an arm over Addison, "all right."

*


Callie brewed the coffee in the morning. She put too much milk in hers and none in Addison's. Addison kissed her when she went to grab the mug. They both tasted of Addison's toothpaste and it was once again hard to tell where Callie's tongue stopped and Addison's started.

Callie didn't feel the pressing need to figure it out.


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Skin by egelantier, photo by microbophile