Author's Note:
Okay, so I was under the impression of Hahn's character not being completely gay, and that's by which this story is written. This is my first stab at fan fiction; I've never done one before. At all. So, that being said, comments and reviews are mucho appreciado (yeah I know that probably wasn't even near the right word for appreciated. So sue me.). However I have to add I would really like to NOT get completely crucified with your reviews. Also, if I get enough reviews and whatnot than this won't be a one shot….cause I don't know about you but those drive me off the freakin' wall haha…yeah…. I stopped it short cause I'm not 100 percent what people are looking for. So, please review. Thanks!
Disclaimer:
I don't own Grey's Anatomy, or any of the characters. They belong to Shonda Rhimes, and ABC. (Sadly :D)
The music flooded her veins like ten shots of tequila, and was just as heady. Her blonde hair was matted against her forehead and neck- she'd forgotten the golden rule: always bring a hair tie when dancing. Taking a break, she threaded her way through the crowd, back to the table she shared with her. She looked around for her best friend, and there she was, dancing in a tight knot of people. But, tonight would be the night, the blonde decided, that'd she'd dance with her. Somehow, she'd had this feeling that if she danced with her best friend then it'd be too weird. Ah well, she decided and threw caution to the wind. It was, after all, a calculated risk. Once more taking a sip from her drink at the table, she headed out to the dance floor, making a beeline to the knot with her friend in the middle. "Do you want to dance with me?" she tried shouting over the music. Her best friend laughed and nodded. And for the next half hour they danced, hips swaying to the music in a symphony of perfect synchronization. And when her best friend placed her hands just so on her hips, so that she nearly swooned and-
-woke up. Completely saturated in sweat, but woken up all the same. Erica sat up so fast she felt light headed. Her sheets were soaked with sweat and she shivered slightly, staring at nothing while her brain was in turmoil. Erica felt slightly betrayed. Her brain was supposed to be logical. Cool. Calculated. Not like this. Not even remotely like this. For the simple fact was that she, Erica Hahn, Head of Cardiothoracics at Seattle Grace Hospital, just had a grossly sweaty dream with her best friend- Callie Torres. She put her head in her hands and sighed, looking out of her apartment window at the Seattle skyline, the tell tale needle knifing through to stand alone, yet surrounded. Ah well, Erica was never one for sentimentality. She got up, rinsed her face and returned to her bed to try and get some sleep, hoping she could do more than stare at the ceiling. Ever since the elevator, her mind had been spinning. I mean, sure, I did it to get under Sloan's skin, right? Right? She tried to approach this logically. A kiss was just a kiss, that's all. It wasn't like she and Callie did anything overly crazy like start to stri- never mind, she firmly told her brain. That's enough. She wasn't usually attracted to women; As if to reiterate her point, she thought of the day where she talked to Sloan (aka 'Prettier' of 'Pretty and Prettier') and told him they'd probably be an item if they didn't wok together. She'd learned in the past, far too well, how well relationships worked at the job place: they didn't.
So there, she told herself. She wasn't attracted to Callie. And that was that. For now, whispered her subconscious. Stubbornly, she told her brain where it could shove that particular thought and rolled over to attempt sleep once more- this time, hopefully dream free.
--
"Hey Callie!"
"Hi…hello….Erica...," Callie muttered in response.
"What's the matter with you?" Erica asked with a smile.
"Ah, nothing," she answered, stuttering over her answer like an idiot. And then Sloan, damn Mark Sloan, opened his mouth and contributed his two cents: "Yeah, you look all hot and bothered," he added with a knowing smirk on his obscenely handsome face, raising his eyebrows. Callie got flustered and couldn't stop herself, prattling on about traumas, and how it was a big trauma. Erica's smile from before slipped into the type of frown one gives to a potential maniac, and Bailey made an observation that was pretty much felt by all: "You're acting weird." Mark, still smiling, leaned closer and murmured under his breath, "And she uses one finger to-"
"REALLY big trauma!" Callie nearly shouted to get him to shut up and stop with his dirty talk. Erica still frowned at her as she walked past. Dammit.
The entire day, it was like some unseen cord was being tightened between the two, not helped during the moment when Hahn leaned across her and asked for pulse when Callie had to make the incision to relieve the pressure on Cement Boy's leg. Neither was it helped when Callie was standing in the scrub room and Mark, of all people, Mark, talked to her in the scrub room during her break. Alas, Callie thought, it doesn't matter I'll just clear my head with Mark and call it a day. It was the weekend, and frankly, she wanted to run away from SGH, run far away from all her problems. "So you wanna finish what we started yesterday?" Callie asked with a 'come-hither' smile. Mark looked off and answered, "Or you can finish what you started." Callie followed his gaze. Dammit. Again.
--
Erica wanted out. She desperately, NEEDED to get out and away from work. A migraine the size of Kansas was embedded deeply into her brain, not aided by any of the events of today. First, the whole elevator scene from yesterday like lodged in her brain like a bit of almond in one's tooth. And second, getting upstaged by Yang and basically getting a rebuke from Richard about learning how to teach. She'd had just enough humiliation for one day. And to top off one of the shittiest days she'd had since first coming to SGH, she couldn't find her keys so that she could just go home. That's all she wanted. Home.
Impatiently, she riffled through her bag when she heard the clop of heels and Callie said, "Hey. I wanted to see if you wanted to grab a drink…"
"I can't find my keys," Erica muttered darkly. And now, with Callie, her best friend that she kissed in the elevator, the one she'd had a sweaty dancing dream about, was standing literally, within reach. Oh God Erica! What are you doing! What are you thinking?? She wailed mentally. Ever since coming here, her emotions had been severely compromised, and having Callie standing there, asking if she wanted a drink, made matters no better. Erica dimly realized Callie was talking. She answered, her body and brain frozen and on auto pilot. The most inspiring thing that came out of her mouth was another complaint about her keys.
"Erica."
The blonde's head jerked up. That tone begged for audience-no, rather demanded audience. And an attentive one at that. "What?"
"….I'm saying something here," Callie said, raising her eyebrows with a slight smile. Stop looking for your damn precious keys! Erica mentally chastised herself. Your best friend, yeah, the one you kissed, but your best friend none the less, is trying to talk to you! Callie fidgeted like a trouble maker in detention. "Look, I just wanted to say…"she began. She swallowed nervously. The loud click from her throat made her mix her words up even more. She took a deep breath and stared at Erica's soft blue eyes and then at her lips.
"Just wanted to say...-" and quite suddenly, Erica Hahn's world exploded into a tiny million different pieces, each more tiny that the last. Callie's hands felt like some sort of panacea on her face and her tongue like warm, dark honey, teasing Erica's bottom lip to open. Once the sledge hammer of shock wore off, Erica responded in kind, lips responded and tongue coming out to greet the other woman's. Her hands came up to cup Callie's face. Her smooth ivory fingers were nested in the other's ebony hair, while Callie's caramel colored hands were entwined in Erica's gold-spun waves. Erica liked the connection. There was a quick break, where they both looked at each other and smiled and resumed kissing, tongues dancing a slow ballet around each other, neither woman knowing that Mark lurked in the shadows and preening like a self satisfied fox. He slinked away with that same smile on his face, but this time touched with a slight bit of ruefulness. But again, neither woman knew or even cared at that moment, content to explore the possibilities, physically and mentally, secure in the thought that there was no way something this good could ever end badly.
...Right?