DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters herein, and I will return them (mostly) unharmed once I'm done playing. I am making no money from writing these stories. As a non-profit interpretation of the original work, this constitutes fair use under USC 17.107.
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SPOILERS: Season Six

One Half Of Wisdom
By hnsnrachel


Closing the pizza box, I lean back into Calliope's arms, smiling as her lips brush against my cheek. She's been oddly quiet tonight, and I was starting to worry that something's wrong. Snuggling back into the warmth of her body, I tilt my head back, looking up to see a myriad of emotions in my girlfriend's eyes. "Are you okay?" I keep my voice soft, and offer a half-smile, wondering what she's thinking. I've caught her seemingly lost in thought a lot recently, and, while I understand that she has a lot on her mind, I wish that she'd talk to me.

"Why don't you talk about yourself?" Calliope's words are little more than a whisper, but I'm so close to her that I can hear the slight hitch in her voice.

"I talk about myself." Shifting in her embrace, I raise a hand to Calliope's face, pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. My fingers linger lightly on the point where her jaw meets her neck and I marvel at the soft, smooth skin beneath them. There are times when I look at Calliope and I can't believe how beautiful she is, how lucky I am to have her in my life.

My girlfriend sighs softly and murmurs, "Not really. I didn't even know you had a brother until…" her voice trails into nothing, and I know she's thinking about George. Maybe there was a time in the not-so-distant past where that would have concerned me, just a tiny amount, but now… it just kills me that she's hurting.

I lean up to kiss her, the soft lips beneath my own feeling like coming home; letting our mouths play against one another's for a moment before pulling away. "You never asked." I try to keep an element of the light and airy in my tone, but the expression on Calliope's face suggests that it's not helping. If there's one thing that working with children has taught me, it's that you have to pay attention to every cue, and the regret in Calliope's eyes definitely says that whatever is going on in her head, it's not going to just disappear.

"I should have."

Dropping another kiss on her lips, this one completely chaste, I whisper, "It doesn't matter. You know now."

"But I don't. I mean, I know that, but… I don't really know anything about you. And I want to. I want to know everything."

The insistence in her tone inspires warmth that starts in my chest and radiates out across the rest of my body. It's not like I've ever seriously thought that Calliope is just wasting time with me, waiting for a better offer to come along, but this sudden curiosity reassures me that we're on the same page with our hopes for a future together. You don't agonize over not knowing enough about someone if all you want is a fling. My girlfriend's simple concern cements us as a couple more than anything has before, and I smile at her, my cheeks aching slightly with the radiance. "So ask me."

The smile I receive in return is the first to reach Calliope's eyes all night, and this time, she dips her head to kiss me. Her lips are unbearably soft as they tease mine, her tongue soft and warm as it darts out for a taste. I open my mouth, inviting her in, but she pulls away, humming contentedly. "Were you close?"

It takes a second for me to place the question, but when I do, I sigh a little. "Not really. When we were kids, we were inseparable, but as we got older... I guess it's natural for there to be more distance. It's not like we really had that much in common."

"You didn't talk about girls with him?" There's a playful note in Calliope's voice that reassures me that what she says was bothering her was actually what was bothering her. The mood around us even seems lighter now, and I laugh a little at the question.

"We did, actually. And he was still the first person I ever told that I'm gay." I find my girlfriend's eyes once more, relieved to see that they're clear and shining, all traces of the clouds that shrouded them earlier gone. I rest my head on her shoulder and nuzzle into her neck, breathing in the comforting mixture of scents that will forever speak of Calliope Torres, however long I live. The floral notes of her perfume and shampoo wash over me, and I let my lips rest on her pulse point for a moment, enjoying the way the rhythm picks up at even that simple contact. Pulling back a little, I continue, "He would have loved you. Once he got over his jealousy."

"How did he take it?"

Thinking back to the moment I told him, the way my palms were clammy and my heart was racing, I smile once more. "It wasn't exactly a surprise. He told me that and left for football, but, after practice, he knocked on my door and listened to me talk about telling Mom and Dad for the rest of the night. Even when I started repeating myself."

"I think I'd have liked him." Calliope's tone is compassionate, and her hand is stroking soothing paths across my arm. I'm grateful for it. It's been a long time since I really let myself think about Danny, and I'd almost forgotten how much it stings to remember what a good man he was. Even if he could be a jerk sometimes, he always, always came through when I needed him. He always had a smile on his face, and he never failed to cheer me up when I was angry or upset. In some ways, Calliope's very similar. Just seeing her lifts my mood every single time.

"You two would have given me nightmares with the trouble you'd have gotten into." I offer up a smile, and Calliope returns it, bright and beaming with the glint in her eyes that spells mischief.

"What do you mean, trouble?" She grins at me, the picture of innocence, even as her hand smoothes a path down my side and beneath the hem of my shirt, her fingertips dancing across my stomach.

Resting my hand on hers and stilling the moment, I look into laughing eyes, my expression serious. "If you want me to answer questions, you're going to have to stop that."

Calliope giggles and I can't help but smile. Seeing her happy is infectious, and I love that it's so easy for me to turn her mood around. It reassures me that she feels the same way I do. We may not have said 'I love you' yet, but I think it's coming soon, and any sign that she won't run screaming makes my heart beat a little faster. Her palm flattens on my stomach, and I lean in to kiss her, but she adds pressure to her touch, pushing me onto my back on the couch.

Her weight on her free hand, Calliope swings her legs up onto the couch and looms above me, a wicked smile making me feel like I might be melting. "Let's challenge you."

Before I can process her words, she gives me the kiss I was looking for just seconds ago, her lips warm and pliant, her tongue soft and questing as it dips into my mouth. I'm more than happy to join her in the kiss, losing myself in her for long moments. My hips shift slightly, seeking more contact – I'm just that easy when it comes to this woman - and my girlfriend pulls away, smirking at the whimper of loss that escapes me.

Tangling my fingers in her shirt, I try to pull her back down again, but she resists me, her smirk turning into a wicked grin. "Answer my questions, and I'll reward you."

I open my mouth to remind her that I was answering her questions without the promise of a reward, but she withdraws her hand from my shirt and rests a finger on my lips. In the split-second that gives me, I realize that this isn't something I should be protesting, so I just smile when she continues, "I haven't asked anything yet."

I'm expecting the questions to take a lighter tone with her on top of me, or maybe for them to turn sexual, so it's a surprise for me when she removes her finger from my lips, her expression serious and murmurs, "How old were you when you figured this all out?"

I know where she's heading, but I play along anyway, more than willing for her to take the long route to our destination if that's what makes her comfortable. And this is an easy question to answer; "Nine, maybe ten. I'm not clear exactly. I've always known, I think."

She slides her hand back under my shirt, tracing patterns across my stomach with her fingertips, slowly getting higher up my body, and I squirm a little under her touch, wanting to be closer, needing the contact to be more firm. Leaning closer so that her heated breath rushes across my cheek, she asks, "Did you ever doubt it?"

Shaking my head, I reply, "Never." As she tilts her head slightly, I know that she wants me to elaborate, so I continue, "I, uh, I didn't really know it wasn't what everyone else was feeling until I was a little older, and, by then, I knew for sure that I wanted a girlfriend, not a boyfriend."

Following through on her promise to reward me, Callie closes the distance between our lips and kisses me. It's soft, our mouths opening slowly, our tongues tangling languidly, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, like I'm drowning in her. When oxygen becomes an issue, my girlfriend breaks the kiss, our foreheads resting together as we gasp for air. I go in for a second kiss, but Calliope moves out of reach once more, and this time, I groan in disappointment as her voice reaches my ears, flooding my senses with more of her. I already feel like I'm overheating, and how she's concentrating on her curiosity is a mystery to me. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

I giggle slightly. "Jack Cooper. We were in second grade."

Calliope frowns. "I don't think that counts."

Smiling, I reply, "Then no. No boyfriend."

Her lips press against the corner of my mouth before trailing butterfly kisses across my jaw and sucking the lobe of my ear, Calliope whispers, "How many girlfriends?"

Breathlessly, I murmur, "Are you asking me how many girlfriends I've had, or how many women I've slept with?"

She pulls away and I moan as the cooler air hits the wetness she's left behind. Then her breath is heated against my throat, "Is the number different?"

Surely she can't think I'm that innocent. I laugh, "Isn't yours?"

Calliope husks, "Not with women."

"Women is all I have. And yes, the number's different."

"Let's go with girlfriends. I'm not sure I want to know about the sex."

My response might be predictable, but I can't stop myself from making it all the same, "You know about the sex." My tone is suggestive and full of heat, and I feel Calliope's laughter more than I hear it. The movement of her body against mine sends frissons of electricity across my skin, and a moan escapes my lips.

"Answer the question, and I might do something about that."

The words send heat straight through my body, and, for just a second, I can't even remember the question. It comes back to me before I have to ask for it; "Three. I've had three serious girlfriends."

Wet heat strokes a smooth line down the column of my throat until Calliope's lips are teasing the pulse that hammers beneath them. As she does that, the hand that had been splayed just below my ribs moves up to cup my left breast through the thin satin of my bra, and I moan involuntarily, my hips rising and my breath coming in short pants. It amazes me how much I can feel with even this small amount of contact. I'm far from inexperienced, but no woman has ever made me feel quite the way that this one does. It would take my breath away if her lips and hand hadn't already done that.

When Callie pulls back this time, I'm starting to get sick of the game. I just want to lose myself in her, and this reminiscing is making that almost impossible. My voice gives away the depth of my arousal when I tell her, "You're driving me crazy."

The slightly confused look on her face turns predatory, and she brings her lips so close to mine that it's almost a kiss, but instead of closing the tiny gap that she's left between us, she breathes "That's kinda the point." She squeezes my breast gently, and I gasp before moaning, melting against her as I giggle a little at how she's taken control of this evening. When we first started dating, she was hesitant, happy to let me take the lead, but as we've gotten closer, she's started asserting herself more and more. As torturous as this is becoming, I'm glad that she's finally comfortable enough to tease me this way, to push the boundaries of the relationship we've been building.

Her hand stills once more, and I buck a little, trying to get her to keep doing what she was doing, but Calliope is one of the most focused people I've ever met, and when she wants something, it's not long before she'll have it. Right now, it would seem like she's intent on two things: learning way more about me, and driving me completely out of my mind with lust. I don't know if she'd agree with me, but I'm pretty sure she's doing well on both counts.

"How old were you when you had your first?"

In the haze of arousal that's rapidly crowding everything out of my mind, I can't think of which question she's following up. I must look lost because she prompts me, "Your first girlfriend. How old were you?" Her fingers start tracing a pattern across the fabric of my bra that's incredibly distracting, the tips circling the hardened nipple then darting across the top of the sensitive nub.

Through the shuddering breaths that I can't control, I force out. "Eighteen." In the hope of speeding up the process that's taking far too long, I throw in more information; "My first semester in college, I brought Joanne home for Thanksgiving. I told my family she was just a friend, but it took Danny all of two hours to figure out we were dating. I think Mom knew too. It's not like she'd never seen the poster of Cindy Crawford."

Calliope's hands slip inside my bra and I groan as she finally comes into contact with my skin. Her fingers are still tracing those circles, but it feels a million times better now that it's skin on skin. My body feels like it's burning under her touch and my hips undulate against hers almost subconsciously. Her knee is planted between my thighs, and I grind against it, the friction sending arousal shooting through my body. Fortunately, my girlfriend keeps touching me as she continues her inquisition, her breathing coming heavier. It's nice to know that she's as affected by this as I am. "Was she a newborn too?"

Maybe I didn't know where this was heading. I was certain that Calliope was going to ask for my coming out story. I guess I should have learned by now that my girlfriend is never quite what I'm expecting. I'm not sure I'm capable of explaining that comment to her right now, but I'll try. I'm a little scared that she'll stop touching me completely if I don't answer, and I can't let that happen. I'll just have to attempt to avoid some of the messier details of the incident that made me wary about women who are new to loving women. So far, thank God, Calliope's been more than worth the risk, but I know that she's not always been that way. Seattle Grace is a gossipy hospital, and it's been impossible to avoid that. Some of what I've heard about Calliope would have had me running in the opposite direction as fast as I could had I not been too far in by the time I heard the whispers.

With my girlfriend's hand still moving against my skin, it's hard to concentrate, but I force the words out, even if I stumble every time she brushes across my nipple. "No. She was… as certain as I was." I press up into the contact before continuing, my words catching when Calliope starts rolling the hardened tip between finger and thumb. "Joanne was… we just didn't work. We were kids, we wanted different things." I'm glad that Calliope phrased the question the way she did. It's brought me a little time to figure out how to answer what she's really asking without telling her how ugly it got between Ashleigh and I in the end. Without explaining how I came home the night I passed my intern test to find her in bed with the man who was her best friend's ex-boyfriend, a man I liked and respected; the way my horror and disgust barely even registered for either of them; the way the woman I loved looked up at me with empty eyes and blamed me for not being home enough, for working too hard, for caring too much about what I do.

Even though I know what she really wants to know, I've answered her question and she grins at me, "Sneaky." Still, she shifts her weight to her knees so that she can slip both hands around to my back and unclasp my bra. Once she's done that, Calliope lets her hands slide down my sides, pushing more heat across my skin before grasping my top and sliding it up my body. I raise myself slightly so she can pull it over my head, and her lips are on mine before she's even dropped the shirt to the floor.

This kiss is hot and heavy, our tongues dueling for control as her breasts press against mine and our heartbeats racing in tandem. Calliope's hands feel like they're everywhere and nowhere and we're both panting like we just ran a marathon when the kiss breaks.

This time, I don't give her a chance to ask any more questions. It's difficult to keep us both on the couch and turn her so she's beneath me, but with the leverage of my legs and the way my girlfriend doesn't really protest my intentions when they become clear, I manage it, straddling her hips and smiling down at her.

When I realize that she can't see the smile because her eyes are glued to my chest, I laugh. It's long and throaty, and it's not until Calliope's hands slide up to cup my breasts that it stops. And that's only because there's no stopping the moan that rips from my throat.

Apparently, even this wasn't going to wrest the upper hand from her grasp. I may only be the second woman that Calliope has ever dated, but she definitely learns fast. Her touch is sure, and I rock my hips against her pelvis as she touches me, barely noticing as she shifts beneath me. She doesn't turn us over again though, and through lidded eyes, I can see the arousal that's written across her face. I guess she must be enjoying the view from our new position.

Her words seem further away than they should be as my head rolls back, but I fight to listen to her, not wanting to miss anything she says.

"So who did make you afraid of 'newborns'?" I can't believe she's still questioning me, but from this angle, I can distract her at least as well as she's distracting me. I'm not sure how many questions I can stand before I explode, so I tug at the fastenings of her shirt, my fingers deft across the cotton. Within seconds, I have it unbuttoned, and the white fabric slips to the side of her body. The image below me steals my breath, and I lean down to kiss her thoroughly, trapping her hands between our bodies.

By the time I pull away, Calliope's eyes have slipped closed, and I take a second to watch her before kissing her again, each kiss getting deeper as I reach to undo her bra. I pull the fabric away and take in the sight of her. She's so beautiful all the time, but especially like this; wanton, needy. Knowing that I should at least answer this question, I whisper, "The woman who came after Joanne," but I don't think Calliope hears me.

I scoot down her body, enveloping a hard nipple between my lips and bringing a hand to work on the belt she has looped through her jeans. It doesn't take me long to loosen it while I lavish attention on her breasts, loving the moans that emanate from the woman beneath me. I never get tired of knowing exactly what kind of effect I have on her, and I hum contentedly against her skin as I lower the zipper of her pants and start working them down her legs.

Forgetting the game – I hope – Calliope groans as I release her breast and slip away from her body, moving so that I can divest her of the rest of her clothes. Dropping the jeans to the floor, I move to the head of the couch, kneeling there and kissing her as I try to urge her to sit up. When she does, the kiss breaks for a second, and I take the opportunity to push her knees apart and slide between them, inhaling the unique scent of my girlfriend's arousal as I let my lips play against the satiny skin of her stomach.

Hooking my fingers into the sides of her panties, I look up at her and smile, "Are you done now?"

She's slightly breathless as she looks down at me on my knees in front of her, her reply husky, "Just… one more."

I wait patiently for a second; watching the emotions play across her face before she asks, "Take me to bed?"

The End

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