Title: 171
Author: Roughain
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Rating: M
Beta: Clanket
Summary: Callie comes home after working a long shift to a perky, excited Arizona. All seems right in the world until the two get into a silly fight that gets blown out of proportion. Callie, wanting a resolution, uses an old tactic that's guaranteed results.

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Note: This first part was written by Roughian over on LiveJournal. I, Clanket, collaborated with her on the second chapter. I am only a beta for this one and nothing more. Roughian has given me permission to post this little story here on FF and its second chapter will be up tomorrow.

After a fifteen hour day there are two things I want: my wife and my baby. I want to hold my baby, get a contact high from baby love (I've been banned from saying crack baby with Arizona around. I once got a huge lecture about crack babies. Sofia is not a crack baby. I repeat, not a crack baby). And then I just want Arizona. When she gets off of work before me she's usually wearing my clothes back at the apartment. She likes my yoga pants and my sweatshirts. They're baggy on her but it's adorable.

As I walk into the apartment on said fifteen hour shift day, I see that Arizona is sitting on the couch with her laptop on the coffee table. She's cross-legged and has a bowl of grapes resting between her thighs. So cute.

She hears me and turns, grinning big and bright in her "computer glasses" because she read a study once about eye strain. So because they're Arizona's, they're ridiculous. Pink. Polka dotted. I can't stop the giggle from coming forth, coupled with the goofy grin I'm sure I'm sporting. She should be used to this by now, ever since her rousing speech in Joe's bathroom I smile in this ridiculous fashion.

"Hi," she chirps.

"Hi," I sigh, relieved, and set my bag down. As I'm hanging up my leather jacket she puts the grapes down next to her computer and comes over to hug me.

"Oh, you smell so good," I practically moan, wrapping her up in my arms. She's a nice contrast to the sterility of the hospital. I'm tired of the smell infiltrating my nose and would totally rather smell her. Dove, Pantene, her lotion. The 'me' still clinging to the borrowed sweatshirt she's wearing.

"Mmm, you smell like hospital," she mumbles into my shoulder before nuzzling against my neck. "It's a good thing I love you so much."

"Good thing," I parrot, yawning into her hair.

"Sleepy?" she mumbles. "I was kinda hoping you wouldn't be. I wanna talk to you about something."

"Mm, what?" I ask as she saunters away from me, resuming her position in front of the Mac. "Sofia go down okay, by the way?"

"Perfectly," Arizona responds as I head to the fridge. Opening it, I find a little saran-wrapped plate inside that has a Post-it with a heart on it. Underneath the plastic wrap is macaroni and cheese that looks homemade.

"Did you make this?" I ask, peeling back the wrapping. "I'm sincerely impressed."

"Mark did," she says, clicking away. Her face is aglow from the laptop screen and she's so intensely focused that I can't help but grin.

"What are you looking at? Shoes? Another one of those fancy, aerodynamic bouncing chair things for Sofia?"

"Cars," Arizona says softly. "Well, a car."

"Cars!" I practically shout as I punch the reheat button on the microwave. "What kind? Mustang? Please say it's a Mustang. I'll love you forever if it is."

"No, Calliope. Mustangs aren't safe. These are more practical."

"Oh we're being serious. What happened to 'we live two minutes from the hospital and can walk'?" I ask, waiting on my dinner. I'm trying to remember what I ate for lunch, but all I come up with is half of a Twix with Cristina.

Awesome.

"Well that was before I saw this," she grins, drops her voice, quirks her eyebrow. I know this face; this is the seductive face.

Be strong, Torres.

"What is it, Arizona? I refuse to get a minivan. I cannot drive around in a minivan. We're not going to be those moms," I groan, hearing the microwave beep, letting me know the mac and cheese is done. The smell makes its way to my nose, which sends an angry message to very empty stomach that gurgles with need.

"Callie, would you just look. You're gonna love it, I just know it," Arizona sighs.

"Remember the last time you thought I would love something?" I question, quirking a brow. It's like second nature; I can't even help it at this point. "Steak tar-tar, chocolate Peeps, my very own pair of roller-skating shoes."

"Heelys," she snips.

"Heelys/sprained wrist; tomato/tomatoh," I wink. I like seeing her frustrated sometimes. She's just so cute when she her brows knit and that usually cherubic face darkens with a scowl.

Sitting in the arm chair adjacent to the couch, I dig into the macaroni and cheese (which is delicious, and makes me believe Mark is watching Rachael Ray again – he needs a girlfriend) Arizona flips her sleek laptop around and shows me what she's been so intensely focusing on. It's blue. Very blue. Sky blue even. And it's a Mini Cooper. A Mini. Cooper.

"Arizona, no. Sorry, no. That's like a mini-minivan," I scoff.

"Why not? You haven't even heard all of the cool features," my wife clears her throat and peeks over the laptop screen to read. "MP3 adap-"

"Arizona," I sigh, setting my fork down. "We can't get a Mini Cooper. Sorry. But no."

"Calliope, you didn't even look at it," Arizona says, almost a little whiny. Fifteen hours of work and whiny don't compute right now; it takes me from sleepy to on-edge in about thirty seconds.

"Arizona," I snap. "We can't get a car like that. We have a baby. A new baby, at that. It seems frivolous. Our cars work well. They're not unsafe. I wanted to go to Fiji for our honeymoon and you put the cap on that quickly. So I don't see how a Mini makes any sense."

Arizona's brows knit. "Fiji is for two weeks. This Mini could be Sofia's car someday!"

I bring a hand to the bridge of my nose, pinching it. "I don't even know why we're still having this conversation."

"I think we deserve it, Callie. We're attendings. We work hard. And plus, it's cute and safe and fun. I'm not sure I see what the big deal is here. You're on the verge of freaking out over prospective new cars," she grumbles, whipping the laptop back around to face her.

"I'm not freaking out!" I whisper-yell. "I'm tired. I don't want to wake Sofia. I can't fit in a car like that. I have long legs, Arizona. How would I drive it?"

"This is the extended model! They're surprisingly roomy! But you'll never know that because you're being stubborn and ridiculous."

"And what happens to the person sitting behind me when I push the seat all the way back, they sit with their legs pressed into their chest?" I scoff. "Stubborn and ridiculous is you pushing this issue even though I'm tired and don't want to fight. Please, Arizona. Enough."

Affronted, Arizona closes her laptop and tucks it under her arm. Without a word, she walks away from the couch and I look down at my half eaten mac and cheese. This is bad. I'd rather deal with mad, yelling, sit-your-butt-down Arizona than this alternative. This is truly upset wife mode. I sigh, giving one more glance to my mac and cheese.

Goodbye, delicious dinner. Hello slam of the bedroom door.

I freeze, hoping Sofia doesn't wake up and actually hold my breath until a few minutes later when the bedroom door opens again. I have a surge of hope even though I know better. Arizona has her pillow and the throw blanket tucked beneath her arm.

Oh no. Couch sleeping.

"Arizona…"

"Calliope, no. You don't get to go off on me then expect sunshine and rainbows. You freak out over nothing and I'm just not in the mood right now."

"Fine," I snip, after my attempts at giving her the wide-eyes go unheeded.

"Fine," she barks, punching her pillow as she adjusts herself on the sofa.

I make my way to the bedroom, hesitating for a second in hopes that Arizona will try to stop me. She has to understand how tired I am, how much this conversation would differ in the morning. Maybe I was being a little irrational, but so was she.

When I realize she's not coming, I pad toward the bathroom, leaving the door cracked in case of a change of heart. I brush my teeth for two solid minutes, all the while listening for footsteps. I pull my hair up into an immaculate ponytail and wash my face like I just performed a Cabaret instead of a makeup-free 15-hour day.

No Arizona. I'm sad about this. Sometimes she calls me combative and sometimes I am. But I hate fighting with her. I hate upsetting her. I make my way back out to the living room, taking a seat on the arm of the couch closest to where her head is.

"Arizona?" I question softly. But it's in vain. She's already snoring. I fix her blanket and kiss her cheek. Her snoring is cute, even if she's mad.

My last stop before my bed is Sofia's room. I open the door, walk over to my baby's crib and smile as I watch her sleep. I can hear the little rift in her breathing tapering off to a gentle sigh.

I don't want to sleep alone. I don't want to, but I will. I pull on a t-shirt after I tug off my jeans and shirt and crawl into bed. I roll over to Arizona's side, pulling my pillow over to curl up. She's usually snuggling me by now while she chatters in my ear about her day. If I weren't so exhausted I'm sure I'd be crying. Instead, sleep hits me like a ton of bricks (but not a truck—never a truck).

xxx

My alarm jolts me to attention. I realize the beeping sound had permeated my dream, interrupting my ridiculous tea party with The Wiggles. I make a mental note to watch something R rated in the next few days, maybe dust off Arizona's L Word boxset or something since we'll have the weekend off. My sleepy mind then travels to Sofia, and I realize a little sadly that this is Mark's morning with her and there's a good chance he's already picked her up.

Just to be safe I get up, making sure to smooth the blankets down over the bed. Arizona likes it when it's made, so maybe this will put me back into some good graces. I pull on the jeans from yesterday and a clean t-shirt and make my way to Sofia's room. She's not in her crib, because Mark comes at the buttcrack of dawn to get her which is cute but I still miss my baby boo.

Arizona's not in the living room. Instead a "Sorry, 911 page super early. Mark has Sofia. –A" is hastily written on a Post-it, same color the one that was left on my dinner last night, complete with a heart. There's no heart on this one which makes my own sink. She was so excited and I was just being a brat. Damnit, Torres.

I pick up my cell phone, which already has a picture message of my little Sofita, in her tiny pink chucks and her dad's sunglasses. My heart melts momentarily as I rub a finger along the screen, tracing her chubby cheek. I miss her, and just as I'm typing back a response, the phone in my hands rings to life.

"Yes, Mark?" I say without even bothering to look at the caller-ID.

"Well good morning to you, too. How'd you like my mac and cheese?" he asks proudly.

"You called to ask me about mac and cheese? Won't I be seeing you in about a half an hour?" I grumble.

"Sheesh, tough crowd. Am I interrupting you and Robbins?" he laughs with a lewdness that I'm so used to and so over.

"No," I snap.

"What's wrong, Torres?" he asks knowingly.

"Why does something have to be wrong?" I ask tersely.

"Because I know you."

"Arizona and I had a fight," I sigh, hating that he's right, that he does know me. "A really dumb one. About a Mini Cooper."

Sloan laughs a little. "Mm, man, domestic bliss sounds great."

"Seriously. She slept on the couch," I groan softly and Sofia makes a loud squawking noise on the other line, making me miss her again.

"You'll be fine," Mark assures. "You've been through way worse. Africa ring a bell for anyone? Unplanned babies?"

I smirk a little, trying to see this through. "You're right. I hate it when you're right."

"I always am," he says, confidence unmistakable in his tone.

Refusing to inflate an already enormous ego, I simply decide it's time to end the conversation. "See you at work, kiss Sofia for me."

I hear him smack his lips against her cheek and her unmistakeable giggle. "Done."

xxx

By the time I see Arizona it's up in Peds. It's just the back of her and all that long, wavy blonde hair. Arizona's wheeling around and laughing with Caitlin Arthur, the little girl whose pelvis I fixed. Cait's been bedridden for a month now and is finally able to walk around, thoroughly enjoying my wife's antics.

I'm smiling despite myself again. She's still my dorky Arizona, even after a stupid spat. I'm going to talk to her. Definitely. Right now. This is stupid. And I totally would have, had Alex Karev not appeared in front of me.

"Dude," he sneers. "You and Arizona have a fight? She's all weird and emotional. I think she cried when I handed her a cup of coffee this morning."

"Sort of," I mutter quickly, pretending to study the chart in my hands as Arizona continues spinning in circles with Caitlin.

"Sort it out. We have a huge frickin' surgery scheduled today. Little kid with organs fused together. Organs. Fused," he clicks his pen in agitation and my mind floods with horrible memories of Stark. "So fix it."

I don't even get a chance to reply before he's strutting away from me. When I go to look for Arizona again, she's gone.

xxx

I don't fix us right away. Instead I fix a shoulder. Popping it back into place makes me extremely happy. I fix two knees and then a hip. My dad said Torreses are stubborn, but thorough. We'll fix it when we figure it out. I know that, eventually, Arizona will forgive me. I'm going to apologize, but still. I hate fighting. At noon, I look around for Arizona again but instead find Mark eating a nectarine and flirting with the nurses on floor 7. I sidle up to him, swapping charts out and watching him grin and wink at a scrub nurse named Amy, completely ignoring me.

This is probably for the best. His sound advice would be: make up sex will be great for you guys.

I nearly run Bailey over when I turn around and she crosses her arms over her chest as she waits for an apology or at least an explanation. She scowls at me and I look at the floor. Her gaze softens and she seeks out my eyes.

"What happened? Somethin' wrong with Sofia?" is her gut-reaction. Of course.

"Nothing's wrong," I assure. "Well, not with Sofia. Arizona and I had a stupid fight and I don't even know why it got as bad as it did."

"I'll tell ya why," Bailey starts as she grabs a chart and begins walking away, a silent gesture for me to follow. "Because you two are human beings who have a baby and a demanding job. You don't have to be so perfect all the time."

I laugh. "I know. And it's a stupid, pointless fight."

"About the manwhore?" Bailey guesses.

"Surprisingly no. Cars. She wants a Mini Cooper."

"And?" Bailey cocks her head, like I've just insulted her intelligence.

"I don't."

Bailey opens her mouth, but then closes it, along with the chart in her hands, sauntering off toward the elevator. She's just mumbling and shaking her head like I've shaved years from her life. I must be that mopey and pathetic.

I need to get a grip.

It's a stupid fight.

When you're married to Perky incarnate it's a bitter little pill to swallow when it's the exact opposite of perky. But the fact of the matter is this fight doesn't even hold a candle to some of our bigger ones. I decide to suck it up, to swallow my pride; a pill that's definitely even more hard to get down.

xxx

On Call room 3 looks the same as always. The little bunks are made up with fresh bedding and I flop down onto the bottom one. I think about abandoning my resolve and taking a nap, but instead I page Arizona. I don't use 9-1-1 but our well-loved 171.

She'll either come in here smiling or wanting to throttle me. I can only hope it's smiling.

Twenty minutes pass and I must have dozed because I barely register my name. Arizona's standing over me with her arms crossed and she looks pissed. But kind of sexy. But still really pissed.

"Hi," I try.

"You think 171 is going to fix this?"

"I just wanted you to come here," I say as I scramble to my feet, narrowly missing smashing my head off the top bunk.

"With our old code for sex? You think that's just going to make it all better?"

I look at my feet. "It worked. I just want to—"

"What, Calliope?"

I glance at her, closing the space between us and wrapping her in my arms. "I'm sorry, Arizona. I was tired and moody and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. We can look at those dumb cars tonight."

"Dumb cars?" she scoffs, wiggling out of my arms. "Calliope, the point is you totally undermined me because you didn't like it without so much as listening to me."

My hands fall to my sides. "I'm sorry. Please, no more. I was being irrational and I apologize. I'm all screwed up 'cause you slept on the couch and I hated it. And then you weren't there when I woke up."

Arizona softens. "I was angry."

"And I was being stupid last night."

"You were," she nods.

"We can look at the cars tonight. Okay? But we're mapping out all the options."

She sighs and takes one of my hands. "Okay."

This time she pulls me into her arms and I rest my chin on her shoulder. "Don't do that again, the sleeping on the couch. The last time you did that was after you got back from Africa."

Arizona tightens her hold. I know she wants to say "and you were pregnant" but she doesn't. Instead she kisses my cheek and noses into my hair. I relax and I feel her giggle before I hear it.

"Yes?" I smirk as I pull back some. "Something funny?"

"No, just that you used our 171 code and I came to see you. I don't think that will ever change."

"And who's the genius that came up with that?" I ask, sliding my hands to her hips.

"Mm, some hot wife of mine," Arizona responds as she loops her arms around my neck.

I can't help my smiles with her. Those all-encompassing, wide smiles that kind of ache after a while. "Okay, are we good?"

"We're good," she grins as she moves in to kiss me.

The thing is, Arizona and I are most likely always going to fight. Sometimes I'm sure it will have some kind of meaning, and other times it will be more like this – utterly ridiculous and the product of very little sleep. On the whole we're great and people notice when we're even the slightest bit off. But on the flipside, it allows for moments like this one: making out in the on call room.

It starts off sweetly enough, but now Arizona's pushing my coat from my shoulders as she guides me over to the far wall. Her lips are at my neck when her cold hand breaches underneath my scrub top. She rakes her nails against the bumps of my thermal and then drags them against my skin.

I lose my breath completely when she bites – hard – at my neck while her fingers wiggle underneath my bra, pinching and rolling my nipples. Her mouth is so good at everything. Kissing my neck, smiling, biting at the spot she just sucked hard enough to leave a bruise – it's all amazing.

"Arizona, what... are we gonna have time?" I sputter, more than flustered.

"We're making it," Arizona grins.

She's hot when she's assertive like this. It's always in the bedroom, but I love it every single time even if it's no surprise. My hands untuck her t-shirt and push it up along with her scrub top, just needing to touch her in any way. I always want to do that – touch her. Her hips press against mine and my head bangs a little too hard against the wall when I tip it back to give her more access to my neck.

So maybe I'll have a hickey or two like a teenager, but it'll be worth it.

Her fingers skim along the waistband of my scrubs and she looks at me with the most devilishly charming face I think I've ever seen on her. It's sexy. I can't help but moan. Her fingers dip past my scrub pants to grind against the underwear I suppose she's intent on ruining, but I wouldn't dare protest. Instead, I grin, still her hands, and flip her so she's the one against the wall.

She struggles for a second, but I'll always win this game.

My knee goes between her thighs and I hear that sweet little moan of, "Calliope," dance off her lips. It's a gasping, breathy sound and I just don't know what to do with her. Part of me wants to take this slow, but the other part of me just can't. So I drop to my knees, take hold of the scratchy material of her pants and tug them down. She looks bewildered for a second and I have to laugh at her Halloween themed underwear. There are jack-o'-lanterns grinning right back at me.

"I -"

"Stop it, Calliope."

She's such a dork.

She slips out of her Heelys and kicks the scrub pants across the room as I give one last chuckle at her underwear before they're off those slender hips. Her back hits the wall quickly and I'm pulling her hips toward me, shivering as her hands immediately flock to my hair. Her delicate fingers twist and tug at my messy curls when my mouth makes contact with her, my tongue sampling and relishing in the taste I love so much.

Her left foot is propped against my shoulder while I do this, listening to her muffle her cries of my name into her hand. Occasionally she needs to breathe though and I can hear them, those throaty sounds that taper off to the most delicious whimpers. The hairs at the back of my neck stand on end when she starts begging me. "Please, Callie," always sounds so good.

My tongue circles her clit, flicking rapidly. I know what she wants but I'm purposely holding out. I like her begging, back arching off the wall, calf clenching beside my head. I just hope she doesn't give herself another charley horse; those are always confusing orgasms for her. When she tugs my hair in a manner that I know will make it not look like sex hair (even in a ponytail), I give in. Two fingers slide inside her and she gives up on trying to be quiet.

I guess this is why people notice when we're anything but shiny, happy people.

She's so turned on, so wet, so close that I can feel it. I push inside of her one more time while my tongue follows suit and she's squirming. My free hand pushes on her hips to keep her in one place (and reduce the risk of injury on Arizona's part). She groans out one long, "Oh, God, Callie," when she finally comes.

I gently lower her foot back to the ground and fetch her black and orange underwear from the little nightstand in the room. I help her get them back up and stand, rolling my neck a little. She tugs me over by the drawstring on my scrubs. When we kiss, she moans again and I shiver because I know it's the faint taste of her still on my lips that made her do it.

God, she's hot.

She backs me into the wall again and I don't fight. Instead I kiss her, hands and fingers tugging her closer by her hair. I love her hair. Those soft blonde locks always feel so good under my hands. Her own hands are under my scrub pants again, picking up right where she had left off.

My pager goes off. I give her a look that means business and she accepts my silent challenge with a nod and a smile.

Before I even have time to react, her fingers are inside of me, aided by just how turned on making her come gets me. She knows this fact well. I vaguely hear her mumble something about how wet I am when her thumb joins the party, circling my clit in perfect rhythm with her fingers.

And now it's my turn to try and keep my noises down; my turn to squirm against the wall until she presses her lips against mine to shut me up. I can't help it though. I need to breathe a little so I pull back just in time for her to curl her fingers which gives us no time to try and muffle that noise. God, I hope no one's outside the door. The first time it was funny, second time – awkward. And all ensuing times we've been caught? Kind of funny too, actually.

My hands move to her shoulders so I can steady myself. I have trouble standing up while she's doing this because my knees threaten to give out every single time. She is that good. I whisper this into her ear. I tell her how close I am, how much I want her to make me come.

And of course she does. So hard that I can't even make sounds at first because it feels like there isn't enough air in my lungs.

She kisses me while I come down. I smile at her, taking a second to cherish her. Her wedding ring gets caught in my hair and we smile about it. It's a good omen.

"Can't do this in a Mini," I smirk when I can finally speak again.

"Oh, Calliope, you underestimate me."

I smile again, bigger than before. My cheeks hurt from smiling, again.

Her pager goes off again and she scrambles for her pants in search of the pager attached to its waistband. "Oh, God. Thankfully it's just Karev," she breathes as she pulls the scrubs back on.

"Thankfully," I smirk, trying to no avail to smooth down my hair.

She walks over to me and ties my scrubs, helping me pull my coat back onto my shoulders.

"We'll talk later?" She smiles. Super magically.

"Later," I agree. "But, Arizona?"

"Yes?" She asks over her shoulder, just before leaving the on call room.

"Can the Mini be red?"