Title The Definition of Hate – vignettes.
Fandom Grey's Anatomy
Pair Mark and Callie, Mallie
Warning/Spoiler/Summary None. None. Frenemies.
Disclaimer All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show Grey's Anatomy. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of devylish. devylish is in no way associated with the TV show Grey's Anatomy and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.
They had a love/hate relationship, heavy on the hate. People had never understood their relationship, putting it down to a freak accident, then down to a purely physical interaction, then, reluctantly, labeling them as friends. But love/hate… frenemies was probably closer to the truth. They were friends, but there were times through the years that they really almost did hate one another. Hating was a salve to the hurt. A fix for the pain. Or, at the very least, it was a distraction.
She'd been the first to verbalize the words. The first to actually say "I hate you." And he, teasingly, torturously denied her claim. "You love me."
But she did hate him. She hated his perfectly chiseled jaw, and his piercing 'I know you' blue eyes. And she especially hated his body. His fucking Adonis-like body. Yup, deep seeded hate there.
She used the hate that she felt for him to counter the pain. To help her fight the pain. And there had been in a lot of pain over the years. George. Mark. Erica. Mark.
It had been just when she was kind of, sort of, getting a handle on the stupid unreasonable, unrealistic… bona fide attraction she had for Mark that Lexie happened.
Okay. That was a little uncalled for, but the sticklet named Lexie Grey still rubbed Callie the wrong way.
Anyway, it was during the time that Mark was with Lexie that Callie pseudo-hated him the most. It was Lexie- Fucking-Grey for God's sake!
Lexie Grey… just when Callie needed Mark the most. Just when she'd finally realized that what she wanted most in the world was Mark Sloan.
The first time they made love, Callie Torres scrambled out of their hotel bed so fast Sloan could feel his head spin. He also felt something in the center of his chest clutch and burn. A literal ache and pinpricks of pain seized him. He'd never felt anything like it before. A thought, faint and echoey passed through his head: love? But he knew that wasn't possible… they hardly knew one another and love at first sight didn't exist – did it?
Then Addison had arrived, and there was nakedness, and he was Sloan… so he pushed the little thought… the stir of heat… aside, and focused on what was at hand. Namely, Addison.
He realized that that nugget of something he'd felt was probably hate at the same time he realized that Callie was back together with O'Malley. The twinges in the middle of his heart kicked in every time he saw her. Every time he saw her grinning and smiling in fucking dumbass George O'Malley's direction.
And then, the dumbass PROVED his dumbassedness by sticking his dick in Izzie. Izzie over Callie? WTF?!
For a while, after that, Sloan didn't feel the hate as much. There was Callie sex, and more Callie sex, and oh yeah, did he mention the Callie sex? Beautiful, beautiful, mind-altering fucking Callie sex. And she was funny, and she was soft, and she was… with him.
Until Erica. Until he got all chivalrous… and stupid… and pushed his girl -- fucking pushed her – at Hahn. Twice!
The hate kicked in again. Yeah. He hated Callie Torres. That was the only reason he couldn't get her out of his mind. Watching her lean into Erica, smile that gorgeous smile of hers, watching her touch Erica. Hate.
Making Callie his frenemy seemed to be the wisest thing for him to do. Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer? Yeah… that applied here. Drinks, chats about her sex life; even helping her test her damn 'sex' theories. He fucking hated her and the fact that she couldn't see the difference between sex with him and sex with Erica.
He knew there were differences – differences beyond the vagina/penis thing. There was the sharing, and the honesty, and the laughter. There was the fact that Callie could trust him enough to share, and talk to him about… anything. Everything.
To this day, he blamed the Lexie incident on the fact that Callie didn't know the difference between loving him and loving Hahn. He hated Callie for that. And hate made people do stupid things. Things like jump into bed with a naked Lexie Grey. It was the hope that he was punishing Callie, even just a little bit as he held Grey's slender frame that almost made it worth it. It almost made the fact that he was holding Lexie and thinking of Callie, wishing he was fucking Callie, worth it.
Yeah, hate was a weird thing. A weird, strange, fucking thing. Sometimes, Mark would almost swear that the hate he felt for Callie Torres was something else. Something close to love.
Her tan leg slid up his thigh stopping just atop his ass. "So, what you're saying is that you're done?"
"Completely done. So done, I can't even remember it happening." Mark was focused on the expanse of skin between Callie's clavicles and her perky, full breasts. As she wriggled beneath him, trying to wrestle more words out of him, he nipped at the perfect spot.
"One year Mark. You were with Grey for one year! You can't just forget it happened."
He lifted his head slightly. "I can't?"
Callie ran a hand through the short peppered hairs at the back of Mark's head. "No, you can't… you dolt."
"It's a word."
"I know it's…" Mark paused and gathered himself, they had much more important things to do than argue over the contents of the dictionary. "Callie. Baby." He moved upwards along her body, his cock, still encased in the stupid jeans he'd worn, pressed against her center, reminding her of the other important issues at hand. "I'm done with Lexie. Happily done with her. And now, all I want to do is be with you."
Callie blinked beneath him. Her fingers teased those silky hairs on his head unconsciously, seductively. "Unfortunately for you Sloan, I still hate you."
She wasn't good at being vulnerable. Never had been, never would be. Fortunately for him, he got her; he could read her. "You love me." He grinned.
Biting back a smile, Callie brought her other bare leg up to his denim clad ass; briefly, she wondered how she'd gotten to 'naked' while he was still clothed. "I hate you."
"Okay." Mark's eyes were zoning in on Callie's lips – and he heard her breath catch with anticipation – "If that's how you want it Calliope," he bit her bottom lip, gently. "I hate you too." He licked the small spot he'd nipped at. "I hate you more than I've ever hated any woman before in my life." He suckled at that same lower lip for just a second then he lifted his eyes to hers and rubbed a thumb along her cheek. "I want to spend the rest of my life hating you."
Her eyes went big and her nostrils flared in surprise. "No more Lexie's?" It was whispered, almost involuntarily.
"No more Lexies." Her skin was so soft, so perfect. "No more George's, or Hahn's or Arizona's." It was a demand.
Her hand passed over his face, echoing the caresses he was placing on her skin. "You'll be the only one I go to Denver with."
"You'll be the only one I hate."
Her smile beamed. "Yang is going to shit bricks."
Mark groaned slightly, "do not, I repeat, do not bring up Yang when we're naked in bed."
Callie's devilish smile deepened. "In my defense, um, only one of us seems to truly be naked."
Rakish smile in place, Mark responded. "Damn. I better do something to fix that."
"I haaate you!"
"I know you do baby. But you're doing great." Mark smoothed Callie's damp bangs out of her face as she fought through another contraction.
"I know I'm fucking doing great! I'm about to fucking push a melon sized human being through a hole the size of a fucking tack! " Callie reached up grabbed the neck of Mark's t-shirt and tugged him closer. "I changed my mind. I want the drugs. I want the fucking drugs now!"
From his constrained position, Mark glanced at the nurse for back up; but seeing that she was casually backing away from Callie's bed, he bit the bullet himself. "Baby, we can't give you an epi anymore. It's too late. We have to just push through this without drugs."
"We!?" She groaned and twisted the neck of his shirt again, as another contraction claimed her body.
Mark glanced at the nurse, hoping she was calling the doctor. Callie's contractions were coming closer and closer and the last measurements had her at 8 centimeters.
"Sorry baby, not 'we'. You… it's all you. And you're amazing." He brushed one hand along her forehead, the other captured in a grip that proved his girl was able to break bones.
"I hate you, hate you, hate you!" She panted out quickly and sharply.
"And I deserve it all."
Callie pulled him even closer, the fabric of his t-shirt strangling the back of his neck. As his forehead brushed against hers, and his nose touched her still perfect nose, Callie hissed, quietly, vulnerably, "It hurts".
Mark tilted his head and swept his lips against hers ever so slightly. Moving his hand to the neck of his shirt, and untangling and loosening her grip from his defenseless shirt, he lifted his head. Suddenly, 'Dr. Sloan', the take no shit, do as I say, Dr. Sloan was in the room and his silver blue eyes were lasered at the nurse. "Where's the goddamn doctor?"
"I- I paged her a min –"
"Well fucking page her again!"
Mark didn't wait for a response, he just reached for the ice water beside the bed, squeezed the towel that was soaking in it, and lifted it to Callie's forehead. "You can do this Cal."
She stared up at him. "No I can't. I can't… we need to stop this. Just, just tell them we changed our mind. It's fucking 2010, there have to be drugs out there that can stop this. I'll just dope up for the rest of my life." A tear rolled down her cheek. "I can't do this."
She was breaking him. Her pain was tearing him apart because he didn't know how to make it go away.
Leaning over, he kissed her feverish forehead. "You CAN do this Callie. You can do anything. You're stronger than any woman I've ever met." He whispered in her ear, "If twigs like Meredith can do this, I KNOW you can do it."
She released a bark of laughter that turned into a groan of pain.
Mark stared helplessly, darkly at the nurse before giving a sigh of relief at the knock on the door followed by the entrance of Dr. Felle.
"All right, let's see if we're ready to push." The doctor slipped on a pair of gloves and rolled her stool over to Callie's legs. Reaching between, she silently felt how far Callie had dilated. "Well, it looks like someone is going to have a baby soon!"
Mark and Callie spoke simultaneously. She let a small smile slip across her face. "I still hate you Sloan."
Unable to stop himself from touching her again, Mark kissed Callie's nose before whispering, "I hate you too Callie baby."
"Eric Esteban Sloan!" Callie stood with her hands on her hips, one foot tapping on the floor as only a mother could tap.
Her son, all of three years old, looked up from the crayons he was holding in his hands and smiled at his mom.
Her heart wrenched a bit. Damn Sloan smile. "Young man, what are you doing?"
"Drawing!" He grinned brighter.
"Yes, I can see that." Callie eyed the wall that her son had spent the last few minutes decorating with crayolas. "Eric, why are you drawing on the walls and not on your paper?"
"Cuz you said you wants to paint walls."
She dropped her head. "Eric honey, come here." She watched him clamber up from his spot on the floor in front of her previously pristine wall. Bending down she swung him up into her arms, once again, she was lost in the beauty of his small hug and his blue-grey eyes. "Thank you for trying to help mommy sweetie, but, next time, can you ask mommy before you help?"
He nodded his head solemnly and leaned in to her. "Mommy?"
He frowned slightly at being called baby, but seemingly decided to ignore it. "Auntie Merr red itt" he dragged out her name carefully, "she has two kids."
"Hmm, yes she does, Patrick and Ellen."
"How she has two?"
"Well, ummm –" Callie panicked slightly.
"Can we has two?"
"'Can we 'have' two'," she corrected instinctively.
"That's a great question Eric." A voice from behind Callie chimed in.
Callie handed her wriggling son over to his father with a raised brow.
"Tell you what, tiger, I'm going to work with your mom on trying to get a second kid tonight." Mark was smiling at Callie as he held their son close.
"Two kids mommy!" Eric turned in his father's arms and she melted at the sight of the two of them looking at her.
"We'll see pumpkin. Now let's work on picking up and putting away your crayons, okay?"
Eric scrambled down his father's body and ran over to the pile of crayons that lay on the floor next to his artwork.
"New decorating scheme?" Mark glanced at the recently scribbled on wall.
"Two kids?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
Mark stepped in to Callie's space, and wrapped his arms around her. "We have a mini-me, let's make a mini-you."
She untrapped her arms from between their bodies and slid them around Mark's neck. "We can barely handle a mini-you. We'd drown if we had to take on a mini-me too."
"Eh," he tugged her closer, sharing his never-ending hard on's presence with her. "You're not that tough to handle."
She frowned. "I'm tough to handle! I'm a puzzle, within a conundrum, within a damn safe." She glanced over her shoulder to see if Eric was listening. "You, Mr. Sloan just seem to have the right tools for opening me up."
Mark chuckled, "Love you."
She smiled and growled up at him. "Love you too."