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It was seven at night on Christmas eve, and Arizona was sprawled on the couch with a glass of wine.

Sofia was in New York, so she’d barely even decorated. Despite Christmas being her favourite holiday, her tree was almost naked and there was a singular, sad candle on the mantle. She’d even agreed to go to church with April on Christmas morning, before her plans to watch Thelma and Louise and drink an entire case of beer by herself.

It didn’t feel worth it to decorate the house when she was the only one going to see it, and it was her first Christmas without her daughter – she felt that she was rightfully sad. Because it was too quiet without the patter of little feet and giggles echoing down the stairs, and Arizona missed Sofia more than she ever thought possible. Her eyes flicked to a Christmas card that had come in the mail, Sofia’s scrawl proclaiming ‘Happy Holidays!’ with a painted image of a Christmas tree that she’d made at school. It made her heart ache.

The leg was leaned up against the couch and she was wearing a pair of ratty Christmas pyjamas from a long, long while before, some hallmark Christmas romance playing on the TV that she wasn’t really paying attention to.

And that was when the doorbell rang.

Arizona groaned and tried to melt into her couch, setting down her wine and running her hands over her face, but the doorbell went again. But there was also a knock. Two slow, three fast. Their secret knock. Her and Sofia’s code.

Arizona’s brows creased as she sat up and fitted her leg into place, cursing quietly when clumsy fingers couldn’t quite assist the suction fit. She managed it after a moment, then shakily stood up and walked to the front door, taking a breath before she pulled it open.

“Mommy!”

Instantly, a little figure was leaping forward and wrapping her arms around Arizona’s waist, almost knocking her over in the process. Grabbing the doorframe for stability, Arizona’s head was blurred and she could hardly breathe as Sofia held onto her like she would fade away at any second.

“Hey,” she whispered, “hey, Sof, what are you—”

“Mama’s brought me back!” Sofia looked up with big, adoring eyes and a giant smile, a blue and green stuffed unicorn under her arm. “She thought you might be sad so we’ve come back to spend Christmas with you!”

Arizona’s eyes rose to the other figure in the doorway. There, with a suitcase and a leather jacket, was Calliope Torres. She looked awkward but her smile was genuine, one hand holding tightly to the handle of the suitcase and the other holding onto a bright pink rucksack. Her hair was in a ponytail, shorter than it had been when Arizona saw it last, and she looked exhausted, but Arizona could see the sincerity in her face.

Callie couldn’t help but look Arizona up and down – wine-stained lips, ratty pyjamas, complete shock in blue eyes – and knew exactly how she felt. The Christmas before, when Sofia had been in Seattle, she’d been just as bereft.

Callie chewed her lip and asked, “may we come in?”

Mildly startled and still reeling, Arizona stumbled both over her words and her feet as she stepped back. “Uh, yeah- yeah, sure. Come in.”

Sofia stepped back from Arizona’s embrace and grabbed the pink rucksack from Callie’s outstretched hand, then ran into the house and tossed herself onto the couch, instantly watching that crappy hallmark movie with wide eyes.

Arizona closed the door once Callie was in her house, confusion spurring her tongue before she could stop it. “What are you doing here?”

Callie shifted on her feet. “Like Sof said. I… I don’t know how I survived last Christmas without her. It was too quiet and I worked the days away until I basically collapsed with exhaustion. She was talking about you, I was thinking about you, and we decided to just… come back.”

It was an admittance that laid between them like a cracked mirror, something Callie hadn’t quite wanted to knock loose but knowing that it was imperative for the situation that she’d put them both in. She could tell just by the state of Arizona and the mess of her house, that she’d been almost worse than Callie had been, and it made her glad that she’d actually acted on the idea of coming back to Seattle instead of stewing on it before ignoring it.

Brows creasing, Arizona asked, “but, Callie, why? You can’t just mess with the schedule we created for a reason.”

Callie could see Arizona swaying slightly and murmured, “because Sofia deserves two happy moms.”

It was a piece of their past, something that pulled them back to Arizona’s selfless decision to let Callie take Sofia to New York, and it made them both sad and weirdly nostalgic at the same time.

Arizona looked up, traitorous tears burning the backs of her eyes as light laughter filtered through from where Sofia was watching the TV. A smile pulled her mouth and she quietly said, “damn it, Callie.” She met Callie’s eye, finding something unsure there, and sighed, “happy Christmas.”

Callie felt the tension dissolve from her muscles at the words, and murmured, “happy Christmas, Arizona.”

She stepped forward to give Arizona a quick hug, fighting not to inhale the scent of her shampoo or – God forbid – do something mechanical like kiss her. Instead, she just held her for a moment, letting Arizona’s arms worm around her waist.

Unbeknownst to her, Arizona was fighting that same urge. Callie was warm beneath her hands, though the chill in the air had left her ears cold where one was pressing against Arizona’s. She could smell leather and the scent of Callie’s perfume and it took her back to better days immediately, one hand rubbing up and down Callie’s back before she stepped out of Callie’s hold and shot her a crooked smile.

Their eyes locked for a moment, unsaid words flowing the space between them, before Arizona laughed softly and said, “we’re going to be a pair tomorrow morning. I’m half a bottle of wine deep and you’re going to be jetlagged as anything.”

Callie chuckled tiredly, one hand lifting to awkwardly scratch the back of her neck. “Yeah.”

After a quick mental check, Arizona groaned. “The guest room isn’t made up. I’m sorry. Um…”

“That’s okay,” Callie said with a wave of her hand. “That’s what I get for dropping in on you. I can take the couch.”

“Absolutely not. The thing’s got enough springs to make Tigger jealous.” Arizona shuddered. “Trust me, I’d know – I’ve spent the last three hours on it and I think I’ve developed a back problem.”

“It’s fine,” Callie argued weakly, cursing herself for just dropping herself into Arizona’s life. Again. She’d take the couch if she needed to; she’d do anything to keep their family together for what she knew was both Arizona and Sofia’s favourite holiday.

Arizona snapped her fingers. “How about you take Sof’s room and Sof sleeps with me?”

Callie winced and said, “she’s been talking about how much better her room is with you. I swear she’s been salivating over the idea of being back in her ‘proper’ bed.”

Running out of options, Arizona’s loosened tongue spoke before she could reign it in. “Then you can share with me.”

Callie’s eyes widened so much that she thought they might fall out of her head. God, what would happen if she shared a bed with Arizona for the first time in years? She was terrified that she’d wake up cuddling her and never want to leave. It was an awful idea.

She fought for words and said with a tight smile, “I’ll take the couch.”

Arizona huffed, “and you’ll be horrible tomorrow because of the backache. We might be mildly estranged, Callie, but I still remember what a grump you turn into if you don’t sleep properly.”

She’d found it endearing when they were married – how grumpy Callie became after a long shift or an interrupted night – but knew that it wasn’t her place to see that side of Callie any longer. Still, she didn’t want Callie’s night to be ruined and their morning in tandem. She might have had coffee in stock, but probably not enough to salvage that hypothetical.

And… Callie couldn’t find an argument. “Okay,” she said weakly, fighting to keep that smile on her face and not turn and run to a hotel. She wanted to, wanted to turn her back on the woman that had hurt her so many times, but Sofia was giggling in the distance and Arizona looked so small and sweet in her ragged tee that Callie just did not have the willpower to deny.

Arizona knew she shouldn’t have offered. She knew that it was insane to open her door to Callie, even more insane to open her bed, but she couldn’t find the restraint not to offer. So, she just nodded sharply and said, “alright, then.”

The evening was quiet once the front door closed and shut the divorced women into a house with their daughter. Callie disappeared to the bathroom and Arizona wandered into the living room, where Sof was curled up at the end of the couch with her chin propped on her hand, looking half asleep but practically glowing with happiness.

“Hey, bug,” Arizona greeted, “mind if I sit?”

Sofia looked up with a blinding grin. “I left you loads of space!”

Arizona’s mouth twitched in a fond smile and she sat down, opening her right arm for Sofia to scooch in and curl into her side. Arizona smoothed Sofia’s hair back from her face as she rested her head against Arizona’s shoulder, little arms worming around her middle and letting out a pleased sigh. Arizona bathed in it for a moment, carding her fingers through Sofia’s hair and breathing in the scent of her shampoo, until Sofia spoke.

“It’s not very Christmassy in here, mommy.”

“I know,” Arizona said softly. “I’ve been working a lot, and it didn’t feel quite right to be Christmassy without my favourite girl.” She kissed Sofia’s temple.

It wasn’t a lie. She knew better than to lie to Sofia – she’d always been bright, and those eyes had so much life in them that it didn’t even occur to her to say anything less than the truth. Maybe she didn’t mention the crying over previous Christmases when she was digging through decorations and found Sofia’s second stocking. Maybe she didn’t mention the wine, or the shot of tequila, or the mumbled words to Timothy the night before. But it was the truth. Christmas didn’t feel like Christmas if Sofia wasn’t there.

Sofia looked up at her with confused eyes. “But… it’s Christmas. You need lights and happiness and presents to make it all… Christmassy and correct.”

“Well, I’ve got happiness now,” Arizona managed, locking away the emotion that threatened to rear in her chest. “Maybe you can help me do the place up tomorrow?”

“I can help now,” Sofia said smartly, trying to stifle a jaw dislocating yawn and failing. She blinked it away and said, “you don’t decorate on Christmas, mommy. You decorate before.”

“In my house, we decorate when we’re not half asleep,” Arizona smiled and bopped Sofia’s nose. “There’s plenty of time.”

“But you don’t even have any presents under the tree,” Sofia whispered, subsiding until her head was resting on Arizona’s chest, her eyes closing.

“You’re the only gift I need,” Arizona murmured, pulling a blanket over them and running her hand up and down Sofia’s arm, soothing her. “I’m so happy you’re home, Sof.”

“We’re all together again,” Sofia whispered, still smiling. “That’s what I asked Santa for. And it’s coming true.”

Arizona swallowed and blinked away her immediate tears, instead rocking Sofia gently and humming a gentle Christmas carol to hopefully send Sofia to sleep.

Unknown to Arizona, Callie was standing in the doorway and fighting back her own tears. She’d given herself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, told herself that she could deal with being in Arizona’s company for a few days for Sofia’s sake, but looking at her ex-wife and daughter curled together on the sofa, she didn’t know how she’d ripped it all apart.

She didn’t know how she could have let her lawyer insinuate that Arizona was anything less than Sofia’s mother, and all she could think about was that Arizona was a better person than her. Arizona had given her the plane tickets, had let her move across the country with the one person they both loved more than anyone else in the world, all because she wanted her to be happy.

Callie didn’t even know she was crying until a tear ran down the line of her nose. She hastily wiped it away, then backed up a step before she walked into the room properly. She greeted, “hey,” and sat awkwardly down into the armchair opposite the couch, crossing and recrossing her legs as she tried and failed to look something representing casual.

“Hey,” Arizona whispered, hoping that her emotions didn’t read on her face. She looked up with a slight smile and said, “little miss has had a busy day. She’s fast asleep.”

Callie’s mouth twitched in something like a smile. “I can… take her to bed. If you want.”

“No,” Arizona said softly. “Leave her for a while. I’ve… I’ve missed her.” It was an admission she wasn’t sure she wanted to send Callie’s way, but it slipped free and floated in the air between them like a cloud of breath on a cold night.

Callie didn’t answer. She just nodded and chewed the inside of her lip, trying to think of something to say. She couldn’t quite think of anything, watching Sofia’s back rise and fall, but what ended up falling from her mouth a minute later was: “she’s a good kid.”

“She’s the best thing we ever did,” Arizona admitted, letting her eyes dance over Callie’s face in the half light from the lamp in the corner of the room. Callie’s face looked fuller than the last time Arizona had seen her, more colour in her cheeks. She looked healthy. Apparently New York had done her well. Arizona looked away and continued, “all the crap in the end… and she ended up perfect anyway.”

“She’s a miracle,” Callie whispered, leaning back in the chair just a little and running her hand over her face. She was thinking back to the custody battle, to the fighting and the idiocy, and she still couldn’t quite believe that it had happened. That she let it happen to the sweetest kid on the planet. “We hurt her,” she said softly, like the thought had slipped free without conscious thought. “At the end.”

“I know,” Arizona murmured, just as soft and just as brittle. Like the words would fall and shatter like glass. “I hated it.”

“So did I. You were right that we did it all wrong,” Callie said ruefully, exhaustion loosening her tongue. Her mouth twitched in that awkward way it always did when she’d done something reckless and impulsive. “I was wrong.”

Arizona’s eyes flicked back to Callie’s face. She’d never imagined hearing those words from Callie’s mouth – had dreamed it, sure, but never thought she’d hear it in the flesh – and it look her completely by surprise. She was still stroking Sofia’s hair, listening to her gently snore, but the shock was warring on her face with the need to keep Sofia safe from the deep conversation that was threatening to brew.

“I can’t do this now, Callie,” Arizona said almost painfully, looking down at Sofia and then back. “Please… not while I’m kind of drunk and rather emotional. I can’t.”

“Right. I’m sorry,” Callie shook her head, embarrassment flushing high in her cheeks. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“Don’t lock it away,” Arizona managed, shifting awkwardly on the horribly uncomfortable couch. “Don’t forget it. Just… put a pin in it.”

Callie nodded, blood on her tongue when her teeth caught her lip just a little too hard. “Okay.”

It was awkward from there. And it was awkward for around ten minutes before Arizona broke it by saying softly, “I… uh, I need to pee. So, if you could carry her to her room? Up the stairs, far room on the right.”

“Yeah.” Callie was on her feet before the word could complete, running her palms up her thighs and straightening her shoulders. She watched Arizona kiss Sofia’s temple and murmur something she couldn’t make out, then accidentally caught Arizona’s eye before she hastily looked away and scooped Sofia from Arizona’s embrace as carefully as she could.

“Thank you.” Arizona shot her a quick smile.

Callie nodded, then shifted Sofia in her arms and kissed her forehead, watching her daughter curl into her arms and loop a loose arm around her neck.

“Hey,” Callie murmured, “just taking you to bed, Mija. No need to wake up.”

“Okay,” Sofia mumbled, “love you.”

“We love you too,” Callie answered before she could correct the plural, then pointedly kept her gaze away from Arizona as she started to walk from the room. She was used to carrying Sof about, so it didn’t take her long at all to have Sofia back in her Seattle bedroom and settled between the sheets, stroking her hair back from her forehead and tucking her in with a few whispered words of adoring Spanish.

Sofia smiled as she pulled the duvet close, then opened one eye and whispered, “I left Terry.”

The unicorn.

“I’ll get him,” Callie soothed. “Give me a sec.”

When she stood and turned around, there was a hand holding the unicorn out. Callie’s eyes flicked up to Arizona’s face and found something like embarrassment there, but she just smiled and said, “Sof, your mom’s brought Terry up for you.” Then she stepped aside to let Arizona hand the plush over to Sofia.

“Found this little guy on the couch,” Arizona explained as she pulled the duvet back and tucked the toy against Sofia’s chest, where he was immediately enveloped in both arms. “Thought he might miss you if he stayed down there. I gave him a cuddle on the way up the stairs, because then you’ll have a spare cuddle if you need one in the night.”

Sofia looked up with adoring eyes the mirror of Callie’s, and Arizona could have sworn she melted right there.

“Thank you,” Sofia whispered, eyes drifting closed. “Love you both.”

“Love you too, Sof. Sweet dreams,” Arizona kissed Sofia’s hair, then stood up with a hand hooked on the wooden headboard, fighting back a wince. She watched Callie kiss Sofia’s cheek, and then they both left the room with Callie pulling the door to behind them.

They stood there for a moment before Arizona awkwardly said, “I’m… gonna go to bed now.”

Callie nodded. “I’ll, uh, yeah. I’ll do the same.”

“Great,” Arizona managed, anxiety rapidly mounting when she crossed the hall to enter her room, sweat pricking on her face and heart thrumming in her chest. She heard Callie descend the stairs to fetch her suitcase and took the time to swiftly pull off her t-shirt and bra and replace them with a holey sleeping shirt from her time at med school.

Downstairs, Callie was taking a breather with her hand tightly around the handle of her case. This was an awful idea. Everything about this was terrible. Despite that, her legs took her back up to Arizona’s room. She paused outside for a moment, taking a few deep breaths, then stepped forward until she was in the doorway. She awkwardly stood there for a moment until she said, “you know, I can still find a hotel.”

She took in the image of Arizona standing at the dresser on the far side of the room, taking out her earrings, and fought down the wave of nostalgia in her chest. Arizona was wearing a shirt she’d had since before they even knew each other, and Callie couldn’t help but find it weirdly endearing.

Arizona turned around, dropping her last earring into the dish with a clink. She frowned. “You can’t do that now. If Sof wakes up and we’re not both here, it’ll be…” She trailed off and sighed. “We can do this for one night. I’ll make the guest room up tomorrow and then we’ll be okay.”

Callie was still loitering in the doorway, fully dressed and shifting on her feet like some kind of suspicious crook. Or she would have been, if her face didn’t betray that she was feeling more anxious and awkward than she ever had before. “Uh,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Uh, which side do you sleep on now?”

The question surprised Arizona, and it took her a second to answer. “I’m, uh, I’m on the right.”

Callie laughed softly, just a breath of air out her nose. “I sleep on the left now.”

Arizona looked up. “We swapped.”

Waving a hand, Callie said softly, “after… I couldn’t sleep on that side any longer.”

Arizona’s mouth twitched. “Me neither. Alright. Bathroom’s through there.”

Ten minutes later, when Callie slipped into bed beside Arizona who was already there, there was a massive gap between them. They were both laying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, trying not to be the one who made it even more horribly awkward. Their breathing was fast, and Callie’s left leg was sticking out from under the duvet because she didn’t want to move any closer to the middle of the bed.

“Callie,” Arizona said softly, cracking the silence like a whip.

“Hmm,” Callie hummed, hands fiddling with the hem of her sleep shirt.

“We can do this.”

“I know,” Callie whispered into the darkness. “For Sof.”

“For Sof,” Arizona echoed.

Arizona fell asleep first. Callie didn’t know how she did it, but her breathing evened out and she snored softly, just like she always did when she slept on her back. It was endearing, hearing Arizona mumble in her sleep and shift between the sheets, trying to hog the duvet as always, and Callie was still fighting back the urge to take Arizona in her arms. It would be so easy to just turn over and pull her close, but it would be for her own comfort instead of Arizona’s – she wanted to inhale her shampoo again, which made her feel like a creep – and wanted nothing less than to make Arizona uncomfortable.

So she kept her hands to herself and just laid awake for a long while, mulling the situation over and listening to the gentle creaking of the house. She was thinking all their conversations over, thinking about how she’d admitted that she was wrong despite not wanting to let the words slip. She knew that she’d been wrong; Penny had made that very clear in one of their arguments months ago, and she’d been sitting on it ever since.

It must have been an hour or so later that sleep overtook her as well, granting a brief reprieve from the chaos of her mind.

***

When Callie woke up, there was a weight slung across her ribs. A warmth pressed into her back. She was disoriented for a moment, the bed unnatural beneath her and the smell of the sheets irregular in her nose as she tried to take it in. It was something floral, something familiar. She shifted, still half asleep, and fought out a yawn that felt like it was going to split her in half.

For a split second, she thought that the warm body against hers was Penny.

But then, when her brain kicked into gear, she remembered where she was. Who she was with.

She was in Seattle with her ex-wife. Sharing a bed with her ex-wife.

Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her chest, realising that it was Arizona’s arm across her ribs.

Arizona’s hand pressed between her breasts; in the sleeping position they’d found themselves in time after time. It seemed that, at some point in the night, they’d found each other in the darkness and simply settled into old habits. It was scary, how easily they still fit together.

It was Arizona’s scent filling her head like a drug. It felt just as dangerous.

Callie froze.

Arizona’s forehead was pressed into the base of her neck, legs intertwined and bodies pressed flush, and Callie didn’t know what to do. Their bodies still curved just right for them to fit together like a puzzle, Arizona’s chest pressed into Callie’s upper back and her stomach against her lower, as if they’d wanted to be completely against the other. It had always been their safe place, in the other’s arms. And though Callie had missed being the little spoon, this wasn’t what she wanted. 

Callie swallowed hard, heart rate picking up, and knew that she needed to get out of there. The awkwardness made her limbs heavy, as did the early morning stiffness she encountered now, and she stretched just a little to try and unglue her joints. She shifted forward in the bed, trying to wiggle her way out from underneath Arizona’s arm without waking her, but Arizona mumbled something in her sleep and just moved with her.

“Arizona,” Callie whispered eventually, voice hoarse with sleep. “Arizona, wake up.”

A sound pulled Arizona back into life, but she was pressed against someone so warm and so solid that she just wanted to stay there forever. She pulled whoever it was a little closer, but they tried to push her off. It made her feel indignant, so she pressed closer again, hiding against their warmth.

“Arizona.”

Her name, in that voice. Her mouth curved in a sleepy smile and she mumbled, “Calliope.”

The name made Callie’s heart twist violently, like it had been grasped in a fist, and it prompted her to unhook Arizona’s arm from her chest. She was stronger then Arizona, always had been, and was able to remove her ex-wife’s hand before Arizona could fight back. She stood from the bed, a little wobbly on tired knees, and said quickly, quietly, “Arizona, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened there.”

The brief warmth Arizona had held in her hands slipped through her fingers like sand. She was immediately awake, a slight headache in her temples as she sat bolt upright and scrubbed her hands over her face with a gasp. Heat rose in her face and she stumbled out, “god, Callie, I’m sorry – I knew sharing a bed was a horrible idea—”

“It’s okay,” Callie soothed, cutting her off and rifling through her suitcase for something suitable to change into. “It’s fine. We’re mature adults, we don’t have to make it a big deal.”

Embarrassment had painted Arizona’s face, ears, neck and chest a shade of red that rivalled that of a tomato. She propped herself against the headboard and said again, “I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“Habit happened,” Callie said, deceptively emotionless though it felt like her insides had flipped. She could still almost taste Arizona’s shampoo. “We should have expected it. Don’t… don’t overthink it.” With that, she grabbed some clothes and slipped into the bathroom to do some overthinking of her own.

Arizona overthought it. All through getting dressed, putting her leg back on, sneaking downstairs to place some gifts under the tree for Sofia and actually put some decorations and garland on the tree, she was unable to stop thinking about how nice it had been to be pressed up against Callie just for a second. That moment while she was between awake and asleep, inhaling the scent of Callie’s hair, she’d felt like she was home. Which made it all worse to think of how Callie was upstairs at that very moment, having a shower before they roused Sofia.

The thought of Calliope Torres, completely naked and dripping with suds, was not one Arizona wanted in her mind, nor an image she’d wanted for Christmas, but it seemed lodged in the frontal lobe of her brain. To the point of having to sit on her hands and lean her forehead on the cool marble of her countertop to stop herself from doing something dumb and impulsive like slipping in there with her.

She made two cups of coffee, quietly moving around the house and trying to make it just a little bit more festive. She wasn’t sure if it worked, but Callie came down the stairs a few minutes later in jeans and a Christmas sweater and it livened the place up nicely. Her hair was still damp and a few strands clung to the back of her neck, while the rest of it was up in a messy bun.

Arizona was almost pissed that she was so beautiful.

“Hey,” Callie greeted awkwardly, pausing in the doorway with a few presents in each hand and tucked under her arms. Her eyes flicked about the room, taking in Arizona’s sweatpants and snowflake pattered t-shirt and feeling her mouth try to quirk in a fond smile. She shook it off, then said, “I, uh, I have a few things for Sof. Can I put them under the tree?”

“Sure,” Arizona said with a nod, looking away before her eyes could drop to anywhere less than decent. “Anything to make this place a little livelier.”

While she’d been in the shower, Callie had been thinking about Arizona. How, for the briefest moment, she liked being up against her. How it had been like old times, before the leg and the divorce, and she’d enjoyed it. Which was terrifying. But she just needed to last a few days, and then she could go back to New York and it would all be fine. It felt like a lie, tasted the same, but she was clinging to it like a lifeline.

She slipped the gifts under the tree and said softly, “you hung up the decorations.”

“I had to do something while the water boiled,” Arizona attempted to joke, but it ended up flat. Her mouth twitched in a sad smile. “Sofia deserves a nice Christmas. Mark would have made sure that she had the best Christmases ever, and I guess I just… want to do it well. For both him and her.”

Callie breathed in deeply, then said, “he would. He would have loved spoiling her all day and one-upping us with expensive gifts.”

Arizona chuckled. “Exactly. I… I didn’t get you anything. I’m sorry.”

Callie waved her hand. “It’s alright.” She smiled and let out a quick laugh. “I didn’t get you anything either. Crappy guest, hey?”

Arizona laughed too, then said, “you brought me Sofia. She’s the best gift of them all.”

“True,” Callie said on a sigh. “She is.”

“There’s coffee on the counter if you want it; one sugar, no creamer,” Arizona said, shifting the topic just a little, to easier territory. “If that’s still how you take it.”

“It is,” Callie said, mouth flickering in something that was almost a smile. “Do you still have three sugars and half a cupful of creamer?”

“It’s not half a cupful,” Arizona defended, the back and forth coming naturally. “It’s a healthy measure.”

Callie nodded slowly, then conceded playfully, “sure.”

Arizona rolled her eyes, and then they sipped their coffee in silence.

Sofia never usually made it past six am on Christmas day, but it was past eight when her door opened and little feet pattered down the stairs to meet them in the family room. Jetlag and the emotions of the day before had conked her out for good, it seemed, as she was still rubbing her eyes and yawning when she greeted Arizona with a wide, sleepy grin and wrapped her in a hug.

“Mommy,” she mumbled, squeezing Arizona tight. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, bug,” Arizona whispered, smiling so hard that her face hurt. Having Sofia back in her arms felt like some kind of miracle, and she just wanted to live in it forever. She let Sofia go after a moment, and their daughter turned on her heel to do the same to Callie, wrapping her arms around her waist and whispering, “happy Christmas, mama.”

“Happy Christmas, Mija,” Callie answered, leaning down to kiss the crown of Sofia’s hair. She waited until Sofia met her eye, then inclined her head toward the tree and said, “why don’t you see what’s appeared in that corner?”

Sofia turned, and her face lit up brighter than the Christmas tree. She squealed and ran forward, dropping to her knees and exclaiming, “Santa came! We changed houses super late for Christmas and he still found me!”

Arizona and Callie shared a soft look, then broke apart to sit at opposite ends of the couch while Sofia curled into the armchair under a pile of wrapping paper and joy.

For a while, as Sofia unwrapped gifts, they felt like a family.

When Sofia received a stuffed giraffe and leapt between them on the couch, being attacked with kisses and tickles from either side, it was like nothing had changed. They joked and played around, made silly faces and cooked breakfast as though their family had never fallen apart.

Arizona stood at the stovetop and cooked the pancakes as Callie served them and whisked the batter, Christmas music playing in the background and Sofia’s giggles echoing through the house like they were always meant to be a part of it. They danced around the kitchen and laughed in a way neither Arizona nor Callie had done in months.

Arizona found herself quite emotional as she waited for the pancakes to bubble so that she could flip them. Somewhere behind her, Sofia was dancing around the living room with her giraffe, making it fly, and Callie was joining in with Terry the unicorn. Tears pricked her eyes but her smile was blinding, listening to her daughter giggle and Callie made silly voices just to make her laugh once again.

She’d really, really missed that.

The domestic, messy, loving, part of being a family was the best part.

When pancake batter got on the ceiling and the flour dusted their eyebrows, when elbows knocked on walls and wrapping paper covered the floor, when the only sound was happiness, was the best part.

After pancakes, Sofia flew up the stairs to get dressed and the ex-wives were left alone again.

Arizona was eating the last pancake, the weird one from the scrapings in the bowl, and scanning her living room, which was filled with such life compared to the same time the day before. It was a complete and total mess, but none of it mattered because it was intertwined with happiness and laughter. It was Sofia’s mess. Sofia’s crayons on the table and her new toy on the floor by the couch, Sofia’s doodles on some discarded paper and the glint of foil chocolate coin wrappers disappearing under the rug. It was pure Sofia.

Callie was cleaning up the wrapping paper before it became more of a tripping hazard, humming to herself and following the music playing over the speakers. She was happier than she’d been in a long time, even as her back complained with the repetitive bending down. Sofia’s face was so bright, and Arizona looked happy, and the festive season was just filled with the joy that had been missing the year before. 

Leaning against the doorframe, Arizona swallowed her bite and said softly, “thank you for bringing her home.”

Looking up, Callie saw nostalgia across Arizona’s face. Maybe a kind of sadness. She stuffed more wrapping paper into the garbage bag she was holding and answered quietly, “nothing is worth missing this. Nothing on the planet is worth missing this. I know that now.”

“Thank you, Callie,” Arizona said, walking to the kitchen to set her plate down and managing a smile. “You know the plans I had for today?”

Following Arizona, Callie’s eyes widened. Somehow, in everything, she hadn’t counted in the idea that Arizona might’ve had plans. She fought back both a wince and the urge to slap herself. “You had plans?”

Arizona snorted. “I was going to go to church with April. That’s how melancholy today was going to be.”

“You were going to—” Callie cut herself off with a bite of her lip, stifling a laugh. Arizona had never been one for going to church, and it really did give Callie an idea of how morose Arizona’s Christmas was going to be. It both made her feel vaguely sad and slightly humoured.

“Yes, Callie,” Arizona huffed, spotting the flash of surprise and laughter in Callie’s familiar expression. “I was going to go to church. Thank you for filling my day with this, instead. I much prefer it.”

“We could still go to church,” Callie offered, just to see Arizona’s reaction. She was still holding back that laugh when Arizona’s face flattened and she swatted her with a dishcloth. “Alright, alright.” Callie held her hands out with a grin. “No church.”

“Thank you,” Arizona said firmly, though her eyes were bright and she was wrestling down a smile.

That was when Sofia clattered down the stairs, holding both her stuffed unicorn and giraffe, dressed in a garish array of colours, patterns and textures that made Arizona smile like a fool and Callie chuckle behind a closed fist.

“Hey, you!” Arizona greeted. “Looking extremely festive, there.”

“I didn’t know what to wear,” Sofia beamed, bouncing on her feet. “So I decided to wear it all!”

“I expected nothing less,” Callie said with a grin, ruffling Sofia’s hair. “So, what would you like to do today, baby? We could go and see Auntie Meredith and Zola, Bailey and Ellis, we could go out down to the Puget sound, or we could do something else.”

Sofia pondered for a moment, looking between her moms, then asked, “can we stay here and watch Christmas movies all day? Just us?”

Callie and Arizona shared a look, then a shrug, and Arizona said, “why not? What’s your first pick?”

“Elf!” Sofia squealed, running over to the couch and throwing herself onto it. “Come on, mama! Come on, mommy! We’ve got time for so many movies!”

They watched Elf, then Home Alone, then had a break for lunch and a little walk around the neighbourhood just to get them out of the house. When they got home they watched The Polar Express and, by that point, both Callie and Arizona were feeling the repercussions of the crappy couch.

Sofia was drawing in a new notepad that Arizona had given her with some new pencils from Callie, sitting on the floor and leaning against the couch while Callie and Arizona were still at opposite ends.

Callie shifted in her seat with a wince, turning her head to Arizona when she saw her ex-wife do exactly the same thing. She spoke slowly, quietly and out the corner of her mouth. “For Christmas, I am buying you a nicer couch.”

Arizona looked sideways with a snort. “Really?”

“I am deathly serious,” Callie continued quietly. “You’re going to slip a disc on this thing one day. It feels like it’s stuffed with car parts from the junkyard.”

“Harsh,” Arizona huffed, “this thing was a bargain from Goodwill.” She paused, then relented, “but you are not wrong.”

Callie chuckled. “When the furniture stores open again, I am buying you a new couch. A good one. With support. And comfort. It won’t do your leg or your back any good to lounge on this thing.” She realised what she’d said with a sharp inhale, hands turning to fists against her thighs and eyes refusing to flick sideways at the casual mention of the leg. She wasn’t supposed to mention the leg. It was a rule. They’d been steadily growing less awkward and then she just had to say something, how much of an idiot was she? God, what had she done—

“Callie.”

Her thoughts stopped dead and she almost got up to gather her belongings right there.

Arizona had seen Callie’s body lock up with the mention of the leg and her chest had twisted almost painfully at Callie looking so small all of a sudden, even for an event that had happened so many years before.

“Callie, look at me.” Arizona waited for Callie to look at her, eyes weighted down and shifting like moving through honey, and said with a smile, “this thing’s awful for my leg and my back. If you’re offering me a new couch, I’m not going to deny. Thank you.”

Callie let out a long breath, fighting to melt back into the uncomfortable couch cushions. She let her shoulders drop and managed a smile. “Alright then.”

“Alright,” Arizona echoed, looking back to the movie. She saw Callie relax marginally from the corner of her eye, and some part of her felt just a little bit healed for nor blowing up. She didn’t need to. The blowing up was a defence mechanism, was a way for her to keep some control and always had been, but there was no need for it now. Callie asked a question out of care, Arizona answered it. That was it. And it felt good.

With their last movie, The Grinch, Sofia curled up between them and they shared a tub of ice-cream, passing it back and forth between hands.

When the credits rolled, Sofia yawned mightily and whispered, “this was the best Christmas ever.”

“I’m glad,” Callie murmured, stroking Sofia’s hair.

“I’m so happy I might explode,” Sofia admitted, looking between her moms with adoring eyes. She was smiling so hard that her face hurt. “Thank you for not fighting.”

Arizona inhaled sharply, teeth digging into her top lip as Sofia sighed and rested her head against her shoulder, holding Callie’s hand.

“That’s okay,” Arizona said softly, trying to keep the shake out of her voice though emotion was thickening in her throat. “We just want to keep you happy, Sof. Besides, Christmas is a happy time; far too happy for some silly quibble.”

Callie was listening, feeling steadily more awful for tearing what was in front of her apart. She swallowed and agreed, “Christmas is happy. All we have to do is let it be happy.”

Sofia smiled until she disappeared upstairs to go to sleep, buried in stuffed animals and beaming a smile brighter than the moon when her moms tucked her in.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Arizona whispered, kissing her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Sofia mumbled back, already slipping into the realms of dreams.

“Happy Christmas, Mija,” Callie murmured, doing the same as Arizona and kissing Sofia’s forehead. “Love you buckets.”

Sofia mumbled a reply, but it was incomprehensible. Callie just chuckled and stepped back, gently closing her door and letting her smile fall as she leant against it. After a moment, she walked downstairs and found Arizona sitting on the couch, a glass of red wine in her hand and another sitting on the table.

She looked up when Callie walked in, the glass cold in her hand. Callie looked tired, almost wary, and Arizona offered quietly, “I poured you a glass. If you want it.”

Callie’s mouth twitched. “You know I can’t resist a good red. Thank you.” She sat gingerly on the other end of the couch, considering the armchair but deciding to take the place she’d been sat in for most of the day as she sipped the wine.

There was silence for a moment, before Arizona said quietly, “Sof was right.”

Callie glanced at her, awaiting an explanation.

“Today was the best Christmas ever,” Arizona said on a half-smile, though it was part nostalgia and part exhaustion. “I know you and I in a room is a bad combination, but… we did well today. I’m proud of us.”

“Yeah,” Callie agreed softly, swilling her wine and looking into the dark depths of her glass to avoid Arizona’s eye. “Not a single argument. We’ve grown.”

Arizona laughed, though it was heavy instead of light. “Only took us three years.”

Callie’s mouth lifted in a rueful smile. As she sat there, the gentle tinkle of soft, piano instrumental in the background, she was thinking about everything she had to say. Everything she had to apologise for. And then she said quietly, “I was wrong to take her across the country. I was wrong to fight you for her. I was wrong so many times, Arizona, and I’m sorry.” She looked sideways, meeting Arizona’s eye. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Arizona simply looked back at her, unable to find anything to say. Callie’s face was open, a slight tension around her eyes and jaw, but truth shone with the tears in her eyes.

“Callie…” Arizona said on a sigh, running a hand over her face.

“No, just let me speak,” Callie said, a plea in it. She saw Arizona look at her between her fingers, and then she nodded. Callie let out a breath and said, “I was horribly wrong. So, so deathly wrong that I think it’s a miracle that you’re able to look at me at all. That you don’t hate me. And I just wanted to say thank you for letting today happen.”

Arizona breathed in deeply, let it stretch her chest, then said softly, “I don’t hate you, Callie. I could never hate you. It wasn’t a chore to let you stay today, in fact I… I had a really great day.” Her mouth twitched on the admittance, and she recrossed her legs just for something to do. The left twinged – all that time sitting down on the couch had made it chafe but she would have felt naked without it, especially on Christmas – yet she ignored it for the time being.

“Me too,” Callie admitted, sipping her wine and touched by Arizona’s certainty of not harbouring any resentment. She’d expected it, and yet Arizona had ensured that it wasn’t there.

Shifting on the couch, Arizona drank from her own glass and rolled the wine around her mouth for a moment before letting it slip down her throat. Her teeth worried her lip just slightly, the atmosphere heavy with expectation, and she could tell that Callie was gearing up to telling her something big. She stayed quiet, letting Callie find the words, but she could see Callie’s free hand picking at her jeans and could feel her own fingers flex with anticipation.

Part of her wanted to reach out, to soothe Callie’s restless hand with her own, but she wouldn’t let herself. That was a step too far.

“Sofia wrote on her Christmas list that she wants her family to be in the same place,” Callie whispered finally, not looking at her ex-wife. “It was the only thing on there beside the stuffed giraffe I got her and some new coloured pencils. I felt… awful. It’s why we’re here.”

Arizona mulled the words over for a moment. She didn’t want to dig for the blame that would disrupt this moment between them, didn’t want to do anything but live in the moment. So she ended up asking quietly, “what about Penny? What, uh, what was she doing for Christmas?”

Callie’s heart stuttered just a little. “I don’t know what Penny’s doing,” she murmured. “Penny and I broke up a few months back and I just couldn’t face coming back here and telling everyone that they were right.”

It was the truth. Beside the arguing and the complete loss of chemistry between them, they’d both realised at the same time that it wasn’t working, then parted ways.

“I’m sorry,” Arizona offered, running her hand up and down the plastic socket of her prosthetic and feeling it rub just enough to make her teeth dig into her lip to stifle a pained hiss through her teeth. She winced lightly and set her wine aside before she started fiddling with her pants to pull her leg off with a quiet sigh. Luckily, they were loose and she would work the leg of the pants up and over the socket, helped by the fact that she’d cut off eight inches from the bottom to ease the moments where she needed access.

“So am I,” Callie agreed. She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, letting it down from the ponytail and raking her fingers through it. Her fingers caught on knots while her eyes traced Arizona’s hands, quickly working to discreetly fix the ache in her leg. Working the tangles from her dark locks, Callie sighed, “I should never have gone out there with her.”

“Stop blaming yourself for everything,” Arizona said, voice a little harder than she wanted it to be as she set her leg aside, then pulled off the gel sock to run her palms up and down her stump. “I involved the lawyers; we were both wrong.”

Callie looked up, a sad smile on her face. “I appreciate it, but—”

“No buts,” Arizona said firmly. “It happened, it’s over, Callie.”

“Alright,” Callie relented after a moment, taking another draw from her glass. For some reason, she just kept talking. “It was mutual, with Penny. We just didn’t work, especially with her new schedule and my new job, too. It was just… it would never have held together.”

Arizona wasn’t exactly surprised, digging her thumbs into the flesh of her residual limb and nodding slowly. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know comfort she could offer as Callie opened up to her. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt like talking to an old friend.

Callie’s eyes watched Arizona’s hands work, recalled doing the same thing in a room at the hospital a mere few months after the amputation, and her mouth twitched in a smile. The memory was too prevalent to simply stay in her head, so she offered up, “remember when I massaged your leg for you at the hospital?”

A puff of air escaped Arizona’s nose as a quick laugh. “I do,” she said, smiling softly. “You always knew my leg better than I did.”

Callie winced, recalling the arguments between them about the leg.

“That’s not a criticism,” Arizona said quickly, glancing at Callie when she realised how it could sound. “I mean, it was. Back then. But now I know that you were just trying your best. We both were.”

All Callie could do was sigh and pick at her pants with her free hand, still swilling the wine with the other. She saw Arizona’s jaw grit as she worked the knots from the muscle, and before she could think it through, she was saying, “I could massage it for you now, if you want. While I’m here.”

The request was intimate. Almost too intimate. Arizona froze, looking down at her leg and having flashes of memory of Callie’s hands on her, not trusting herself not to do something idiotic if she let it happen again. Her eyes slowly rose to Callie’s face, seeing heat in her cheeks, but before she could second guess it she was saying slowly, “do you… want to?”

Callie shrugged. “You always liked my hands.”

Arizona snorted, then said, “alright. If you’re sure.”

Callie was still reeling from what had fallen from her mouth – borderline flirtatious, if she had to put it into a category – and was thoroughly surprised by Arizona’s reaction. She took a gulp of wine and held Arizona’s gaze for a moment, brown locked with blue in that way that always made her feel like a flurry of moths were congregating around the streetlamp of her heart, before she nodded with a half-smile.

She didn’t say another word as she set her wine aside and shifted closer to Arizona on the couch, letting her turn sideways and let her right leg hang over the edge as the shortened left laid along the cushions. Callie crossed her own legs, then leaned forward and rubbed her hands together to ensure that they were warm before she gently placed a flat hand on the end of Arizona’s leg.

Touching Arizona again was like a miracle. Even if she was having to access her orthopedic surgeon side and the locked away loving wife side to do it. Callie’s eyes flicked up, finding some type of bliss on Arizona’s face. She fought down a smile and murmured, “okay?”

All Arizona could do was nod, picking her wine up and drinking from it before setting it back onto the table with a clink. Callie’s hands were strong and talented, some kind of magic in them soothing the ache deep in Arizona’s marrow when her thumbs rubbed circles into the slightly reddened skin. As she did, Arizona couldn’t help but watch her. Callie’s tongue was between her lips, as it always was when she was concentrating, and her brows were furrowed just enough to put a line between them. Arizona loved that line. Sofia had that line. And it made her smile.

To stave off the silence, Callie said quietly, “when I broke up with Penny, I tried to pretend that I was upset. Because she was a good woman. A good, kind, smart woman. She was simple and uncomplicated and she could cook, even after a long shift.”

She didn’t even really know what she was saying, only that there was a small amount of wine in her system and she was talking about whatever came to her head. Why it was important for Arizona to know about Callie’s deepest thoughts about Penny she couldn’t say, but she wanted Arizona to understand a little more about her life in New York.

Arizona’s own eyebrows drew together. She bit back a soft, disbelieving and humoured laugh to say quietly, “you just called the woman ‘simple’. That’s not a good look.”

Callie looked up, some kind of brief alarm in her eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she huffed, though it was weak. “She was… easy.”

“Not much better.”

“Can you shut up and let me talk?” Callie snapped, though it was more desperate than hurtful. “I’ve been sitting on this all day.”

Silenced, Arizona waved her hand in a bid for Callie to continue.

Letting out a deep breath, Callie said, “I loved her. I did. At least… I’m pretty sure. Anyway—” she cleared her throat. “She was… fine. I stayed with her because she was easier than the alternative.”

“The alternative?” Arizona questioned, fighting off a moan when Callie’s perfect hands massaged her leg in just the right way. Now was definitely not the time to remind Callie what she sounded like in the throes of pleasure, however that pleasure came along.

Callie didn’t know where all the words were coming from, didn’t know where they were going to lead, but she didn’t seem able to stop. She shook her head and said quietly, “the alternative scared me so much that I had to leave it across the country.”

The words weren’t big, weren’t a declaration, and they fell like feathers. But the weight they held was tangible.

Arizona stared at her ex-wife, trying to work out what she was saying. Her own hands were unoccupied now, and she lifted one to rest on Callie’s forearm, asking, “am… am I—”

“Of course you are,” Callie whispered, tears in it. She felt one run down the line of her nose, eyes firmly fixed onto Arizona’s leg instead of her face as she massaged in a deep, even rhythm, like they’d perfected so many years ago. “That’s why I was terrified to sleep in the same bed as you. Why I’m terrified to be here, alone, with you. Why I haven’t come back.” She let out a deep breath, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

Arizona was in a state of shock. She couldn’t find the words, could only focus on how she could smell Callie’s perfume, on how Callie’s hands felt on her leg, on how Callie had just admitted that she still loved her. She didn’t know how to compute it, still staring at the top of Callie’s head and watching her shoulders jump as she tried not to cry.

“Callie…” Arizona said softly, more emotionally than she expected.

“I’m sorry,” Callie shook her head again. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to tell you, but the wine and the day we’ve had, I understand if you don’t want—”

“Calliope,” Arizona said again, her hands lifting to take Callie’s upper arms and squeeze them. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Callie’s, hands migrating to her neck. She felt Callie’s hands still on her leg, saw Callie’s eyes slowly rise to meet her own, red rimmed and spilling tears down her cheeks.

“When I woke up this morning,” Arizona said quietly, fighting the waver from her voice. “Just for a moment, I was the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Because I was with you.”

Callie chewed her lip, terrified of what she would see in Arizona’s eyes and only seeing a clear kind of emotion that made her heart stutter in her chest.

“When we were making breakfast this morning, I was the happiest I’ve been for a long time,” Arizona continued, thumbs running along Callie’s jaw. “Because I was back with Sofia. And you.”

Callie swallowed thickly, a quiet sob pulling from her throat before she could stifle it.

“Today has been… awesome,” Arizona said softly, a quick smile brightening her face before it fell again. “I felt like I was back in twenty-eleven. You and I… we did well today. And I liked being in your company.”

Callie merely blinked, feeling more tears slip down her face.

“But you left me,” Arizona whispered, tears on her own cheeks as she shook her head, smile gone and replaced with deep, weary and familiar sadness. “You left me because I was suffocating you.”

“No,” Callie cried quietly, hands lifting to take Arizona’s face in both hands. “No, no, don’t think that. I was suffocating myself. I couldn’t see a way out so- so I made one. And it was the wrong thing to do. I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Arizona closed her eyes, unable to look at her ex-wife. The feelings swirled around them like a cloud, trapping them in its mist. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to run.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry for it all.”

“I love you,” Callie said tearfully, the words slipping free like they were oiled. They scared her, terrified her more than she wanted to admit, but she didn’t even have time to regret them because then Arizona was speaking too.

“I love you too,” Arizona answered, just as emotional, broken and cracking in the middle. She looked up and found Callie’s eyes, reading fear in them as clearly as there was a sprinkle of dangerously tentative hope. “I love you. I love you, Calliope, I do. I love you.”

Callie kissed her, then. She couldn’t have pulled back if she’d tried. It was a salt filled promise that felt like coming home, a press of their lips that tasted like wine and something that should never have been lost. It lasted mere seconds before they broke apart and just pulled the other close, Arizona’s arms circling Callie’s middle while Callie’s wrapped around her shoulders, crying against the other and love confessions falling like confetti.

They held each other until the tears dried, grasping the other like she’d fade away in her arms.

Arizona’s head was running. Her love for Callie had waned but never abandoned her completely, and she’d resigned herself to feeling some type of similar way for the rest of her life. But there Callie was, admitting that she felt the same, and beside the immense surprise, Arizona felt both relief and dread. Callie was warm against her, though Arizona could feel her heart pounding in her jugular.

Callie felt like she was in a state of shock. All the words had fallen free without her really giving them conscious thought, and she’d fully expected Arizona to kick her out when that last fact slipped free. But the honestly had been laid between them like a sword, a gauntlet for Arizona to rise to, and she had.

It was Callie who broke the silence, voice thick with emotion. “Arizona?”

“Yeah,” Arizona whispered, like talking any louder would break the illusion.

“Are we really doing this?” Callie asked, a tremor in it as she ran a hand up and down Arizona’s back. “Are we… what are we going to do?”

It was small, the question falling like leaves off a tree. She was scared to ask it, scared to look forward, because she didn’t know what she’d find. She didn’t know what Arizona wanted, what she was supposed to do. She felt totally adrift, and was looking to the woman she loved for comfort.

There was a pause before Arizona replied, because she didn’t know. She really, truly, did not know. She knew her way around an OR, knew how to remove a tumour from a baby that could fit in the palm of her hand, knew how to keep her patients alive, but she didn’t know how to love Callie Torres. However much it confused her, however much it pained her, she would always love Callie. She knew that. Which was why she said softly, tears in it, “I don’t know, Callie. I… what do you want to happen?”

Callie shook her head, eyes closed and teeth worrying her lip while she held Arizona just a little tighter, trying to tell her so much without words. And then she whispered, “I don’t want to leave again. I don’t want to run away.”

“Then don’t,” Arizona whispered back, leaning back until she could see Callie’s face and linking her arms behind Callie’s neck as Callie’s arms dropped to hold around her waist. She leaned their foreheads together, breathing same air and emotion roiling between them like a cloud of breath on a cold night. “Don’t leave. Don’t run.”

Said like that, it sounded so easy.

When Arizona asked that of her, Callie found that no part of her could refuse. So, she just replied quietly, almost like a vow, “I won’t. I won’t run or leave or pressure you into anything.”

Arizona’s mouth twitched and she let out a shaky breath. “I won’t either. And I won’t shout, I won’t blame, and I won’t cheat. Is that… a good starting point?”

Callie nodded, leaning up to press her lips to Arizona’s again, almost sobbing into her mouth at how the action felt like coming home. She deepened it just a little, not wanting to lean back, and pressed herself to Arizona like she wanted to inhabit the same air as her.

“Yes,” Callie whispered against Arizona’s mouth when they finally parted for air. “It’s a good starting point. And it might just be enough.”

“I hope so,” Arizona admitted, kissing Callie’s jaw again and again and feeling herself come alive from being up against her again. She thought about it, over and over again, hearing Callie’s love confessions like music, and couldn’t help thinking about how on earth they could make this work. And the answer was the one thing that had ended up breaking them apart.

“But…” she started, hesitation making her voice shake and her hands tremble where they were linked at the back of Callie’s neck. “I can think of one thing that might help.”

Callie hummed, so that Arizona would know she was listening. Her thumbs were tracing soothing circles on Arizona’s hips, as, somewhere along the line, Arizona had ended up sat in her lap. Not that Callie was complaining.

“Therapy,” Arizona said on an outward breath, speaking just a little too fast, like her thoughts were bypassing her brain and going straight to her vocal cords. “I know therapy didn’t do us well last time, and you didn’t want to do it, and it ended up with you walking out, but I think that—”

“Yes.”

Arizona blinked. “What?”

“Yes,” Callie said again, meeting Arizona’s scared eye. “Someone good. Someone who can dig through the trauma of our past and tell us how to make it work. I’m saying yes, Arizona. Yes to therapy, yes to you, yes to us. Yes.”

Arizona stared at her for a second. The shock was back, even harsher than before. But Callie’s eyes were sure, shining with love and tears, and it comforted Arizona. She whispered, “you’re saying yes.”

“I’m saying yes,” Callie said softly. It didn’t even cross her mind not to say yes. Arizona was all she wanted, the only person she wanted shouting and screaming by her side when Sofia was playing soccer, the woman she wanted to hold after a long shift and love forevermore.

Arizona saw all that play out across Callie’s face and surged forward to kiss her again, openly crying into her mouth and holding her so tightly that she never wanted to let go.

Callie responded in kind, and then they were both laughing and crying against each other, with the promise of a future ahead of them.

That night, there was no gap between them in Arizona’s bed. They were unapologetically pressed together, limbs intertwined and souls the same, grins etched on mouths. There was no need for a guest room, no need for awkwardness when they woke up the next morning, and no need to pretend that neither felt anything for the other anymore.

They were open with Sofia, who squealed with happiness and wrote a letter to Santa, thanking him for giving her everything that she’d wanted for Christmas.

And when they found a therapist, he helped them make it work.

They may not have bought each other gifts for Christmas – other than the new couch, which they quickly broke in and deemed the best thing ever – but they’d found their family again. Which was everything.

Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres’s Christmas List

Stuffed girafe i saw in target

Mama and mommy to be lovey and near each other again

Fancy color pencils

To Santa

You really, really did it! Thank you thank you thank you so so so so so so much for putting my mommies back together. You really are magical

Love from Sofia RST

(PS: and thank you for the girafe.)