For the love of softball. ( Calzonia story)

Chapter 24

The second day of the Games brings a morning ray straight through Arizona Robbins bedroom window. She fights to stay asleep, but a well aimed light beam hits her right in the face. A groan of annoyance spills from thin lips and blue eyes crack open. The first thing she sees is her roommate sprawled out in what looks like a very uncomfortable sleeping position. The faintest of snores escapes from the first baseman, her eyes covered in a sleeping mask and seemingly dead to the world.

Swinging her legs off the side of her hard mattress, bare feet hit a cold floor and a shockwave washes over the blonde. Arizona tries to rub the fog from her eyes as she pushes herself up, her body wavering as she tries to find a balance. Using more of a feel method than actual sight, the pitcher shuffles her way into the bathroom and plops down on the toilet. Only when her head bobs does she realize that she drifted back to sleep, and she shakes the cobwebs from her mind.

At the sink, cold water collects in her hands and gets splashed on her face, banishing the last remaining tendrils of her dreams. Finally blue eyes find their focus and the world comes into view. Her gaze lifts until she finds herself in the mirror, blonde hair all messed up and a look of sleep still marring her features. With a quick flick of her head, a series of loud cracks echo around the tiny bathroom as her vertebrae release gases and relieve the pressure in her neck.

"Oh yeah..." She groans in relief. Setting about her morning routine, she washes her face and brushes her teeth. As she stares at herself in the mirror, Arizona's eyes drift down to the low cut of her tank top and a series of bruises catch her attention. Stilling her movements with her toothbrush, a fair hand comes up to traces the marks, her mind thinking back through the last few days as to when she could have received her injuries without her realizing it.

Then images of last night fill her vision, and a dimpled smile creeps across the blonde's lips. That hour of bliss where it was just her and Callie, their bodies flush with one another's and tongues dueling for control. Plump lips taking full advantage of a shirtless Arizona, Callie tasting the blonde's flesh and becoming addicted to it while Arizona herself immersed herself in the ecstasy of being under the Latina's body. The air was alive with electricity, but Arizona couldn't go that next step. Not yet. ...She wanted to, so badly. But... not yet. And when her phone's alarm rang at 10:55, Callie and Arizona resigned to the fact that their vacation from the team and the drama and... the rest of the world, was over.

"You are so screwed, Robbins." Arizona tells herself, and for some reason she's ok with that.

Callie surveys her team as they go about warming up for the first game of the day. They are facing both the Russians and the British today, not an easy day by a long shot, but she has a good feeling. That could be because she knows her team is solid and that they are riding high off of a two game shutout streak from yesterday. Or it could also be because of a little one on one time she had with a certain blonde this morning. Because of the precedent set by yesterday morning, Torres told Arizona that it would be bad juju to alter anything about their pre-game. Arizona tried to argue it, stating that just because they kissed yesterday morning doesn't mean it would anger the Gods if they didn't today. But... both felt how empty that line of reasoning was and neither fought it when they somehow managed to get tangled up in each other's limbs again.

But now they are on the field, their field of battle, and Torres is trying to wipe the image of a shirtless, panting and flushed Arizona Robbins from her mind. But that image is a strong one, last night being a night the Latina is sure she will never forget, nor would she ever want to.

Blue eyes find brown staring at her, and Arizona sends her catcher a flirty little wink while the rest of the team's backs are turned to them. But their little gawking fest is interrupted by Coach Webber calling his girls together and reading the lineup. First up they play the Russians, the underdog of the competition here at the Games, and the head coach decides to mix up the line up a little bit. Instead of going in guns blazing, his top strings taking the field, he lets the relief players take the field first.

"So..." Callie drawls, taking a spot next to Arizona along the dugout fence. "This is fun, huh?" Torres understands why Webber kept her, Arizona, Hahn and Altman out of the game to start, but that doesn't mean she enjoys being a bench warmer.

"Depends on the company." Arizona replies, dimples popping when she sees the Latina unleash her mega-watt smile on the blonde.

"Naturally." Callie purrs, a pinging of leather on metal turning her attention back to the game where Russia just got a man on base. They watch and cheer on their team as play by play passes. Every now and then the catcher's eyes drift to the woman next to her, Arizona's jersey top unbuttoned just enough for her to catch a glimpse at the delicious flesh below. This morning the blonde showed her the marks the Latina's lips and tongue left on Robbins body, and the thought of Callie branding Arizona in that way has done some... funny things to the captain's center. Luckily for the both of them, none of the marks happen to be above the neck line of their uniforms, so there was no danger of someone seeing the hickeys and asking the pitcher who she had been playing tonsil tennis with.

"Eyes on the game, Boss." Arizona states after she's felt burning eyes on her for a second too long. Callie blushes slightly at having being caught staring, meeting the blondes gaze before turning her attention back to their team where April Kepner just got the third out by catching line drive right to second.

The game against Russia was the quickest and easiest win yet, Arizona and Callie only getting one inning of playing time, but no one cares because it is about the team. Spirits are high and everyone is pumped up and ready to go into the next match. Great Britain will be more of an opponent, and the butterflies have started to flutter within the blonde's stomach in anticipation of taking the mound again.

After the team is released for the few hours between games, Callie hangs back and helps Naomi pack up the catchers gear while the rest head off to pass the time in comfort. She doesn't notice another one of her teammates waiting for her, and as Callie is just handing the last of the bags off to one of the field hands, Erica steps out from behind a corner and makes her presence known.

"Jesus!" Callie yelps, jumping a foot in the air. "Damn it, Hahn. Why do you have to sneak up on me?" She asks, her heart beating fast from the fright.

"I just wanted to tell you before you heard it from Webber, but I've requested a change in rooming assignments." The ex-captain states matter of factly.

"Wha... wait, why?" The Latina questions.

Erica takes a deep breath, her eyes roaming the empty stadium before them. "Because... I'd prefer not to have certain things flaunted in my face." Callie gives her teammate a confused look, because she has no idea what the blonde is talking about. "I don't... I don't agree with your decision to pursue a relationship with a teammate. It's against the rules and frankly... if it doesn't work out, it could shoot us all in the foot. But you know what? It's your decision, Cal. That doesn't mean I want to come back to my room and see you two grinding on each other like cats in heat."

Torres's teeth grind as she realizes Hahn saw... or heard... her and Arizona last night. The door was closed, which means Erica stuck her big fat nose into someone else's business, and that pisses Callie off. But then there is also the fact that Hahn knows something that could get both Callie and Arizona into trouble with the coaches. So now, the Latina is having to walk a very thin line.

Erica can sense the struggle her ex-friend is having, so she offers "I'm not going to 'tell' on you two. Not now. ...But I hope, for this team's sake, that NewGirl is worth the risk. You saw what happened when you two fought the last time. Team chemistry went down the drain. Really want that to happen here?" Hahn asks, smiling on the inside as she witnesses her words sink into the Latina's brain.

With a pompous smile, Erica turns on her heels and starts to walk away when Callie's mouth finally starts working again. "I know about the kiss, Erica." The blonde halts midstride, slowly turning to face her captain. "Our kiss? ...Yeah, I know about it. And I get it. I get why you were so upset when I... I turned you down." Hahn shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with how exposed she has suddenly become. "And I'm sorry. But that doesn't make up for everything you've done since. The Amelia thing? Trying to intimidate Arizona? That's not you, Erica. What happened?"

Watery blue eyes meet brown, the ten feet between them seeming to be a mile. Erica wants so badly to have Callie again, but... she doesn't want just half of the Latina. She wants all of her, even if that means she ends up with none of her. How can she say that Callie broke her heart? It's not fair for her to put that out there. It wasn't Callie's fault Hahn has held a torch for the woman for so long. But it hurts seeing Torres with another woman. ...A woman that has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a burning intensity. Just like Erica Hahn. So what is wrong with her? Why didn't Callie pick her? Why did Arizona win? It's not fair, it's not right. Hahn has always gotten what she wanted, and now she wants what she can't have. And that's one of the worst pains there is.

So without a word, Erica turns her back to her captain and walks away leaving Callie standing by herself just outside of the Olympic Softball Complex, wondering what the hell just happened.

"Time, Blue." Callie calls, making the umpire behind her throw up his hands to pause the game. The catcher jogs out to a very frustrated blonde on the mound, waving Mark off as she goes. Arizona is grumbling to herself, partly smoothing out her mound, partly kicking the crap out of the rubber.

"What's going on, Battleship?" The captain asks as she places the ball back in the pitcher's glove. The sun is high in the sky and Team USA is in the top of the fourth inning, with runners on first and third, one out. Great Britain has brought their A game, and Arizona has been frazzled the last few pitches.

"Nothing." She growls, averting her covered eyes from dark ones behind a catcher's mask, the blue tinted lenses keeping Torres from making any sort of connection with her, both on the mound and from behind the plate.

"Robbins, talk to me." Callie says, pulling out her best authoritative voice. Yeah, she might be acutely aware of how those pink lips taste, the way the blonde's tongue feels, and love the weight of Arizona's breasts in her tanned hands, but they are on the softball field now. It's time for business. Callie is her catcher, her captain, and right now she has to get Arizona back on track.

"Runner on third is jumping." The blonde sneers. "And the ump ain't calling her."

"Don't worry about the runner, Arizona." Callie tells her pitcher, placing a hand on the smaller woman's shoulder. "Your job is to worry about the player in the batter's box, that's it. Let me worry about the runner on third. Ok?" Arizona mumbles something incomprehensible, but Callie's been around the game long enough to get the gist. "Hey hey, look at me." The blonde takes a deep breath and turns her gaze back to the Latina while removing her glasses, blue eyes squinting in the bright light. "Just calm down, and take care of business, alright? That runner on third isn't going anywhere. You know why?"

"Why?" She asks.

Torres pulls out one of her best and brightest smiles, and says "Because Callie Torres is behind the plate, and nobody gets past Callie Torres."

"Is Callie Torres referring to herself in the third person?" The blonde asks, a smile slowly pulling at her own lips just from the sight of the mega watt smile on the woman in front of her.

"I believe Callie Torres is." The catcher replies with a nonchalant shrug.

"Well, Callie Torres better get her fine ass back behind her plate before it's met with Arizona Robbins' size 7 ½ cleat." The pitcher says, both losing the fact that they are in the middle of an Olympic Softball match.

"Callie Torres dares Arizona Robbins to bring it." Callie replies, taking a step closer to the blonde to try and intimidate her. ...All in good fun of course.

"Pitcher!" The home plate umpire calls, pulling both back to their surroundings.

Torres takes a step back and says "You got this, Battleship. Just pitch to me, let me take care of the rest." With a nod from her teammate, Callie turns her back and jogs back to her position behind home plate. She takes stock of the situation, a runner on first and third with Erica playing third and Campbell at short. Callie would bet her small fortune on the fact that the runner on one is going to attempt to take second in hopes that the Latina would make a play, leaving home plate wide open for the runner at third to score.

Thinking back to the game footage Callie has spent weeks, months even, studying, she knows that the current batter is one of Great Britain's power hitters. Quickly weighing her option of walking the batter or taking the risk of pitching to the woman, risking a big hit and possibly three runs scored, Callie places her trust in the blonde on the mound.

Mark signals to his catcher to walk the batter, Webber not wanting to take the chance at the score tying up, but the Latina won't meet his gaze. "Torres!" He shouts, making Callie look over. He gives the signal for 'walk' again, but his player just shakes him off. She knows Arizona can take this batter, and she wants to give the blonde that chance.

Callie calls for a high, inside pitch to try and brush the batter off her plate, and Arizona delivers. "Strike!" The umpire calls, resulting in an angry sneer from the batter. Another pitch, this one just a hair off the edge of the strike zone resulting in a ball. Out of the corner of her eye, Callie watches the runner on third jump from the bag a fraction too soon. Arizona was right. A smile creeps onto the Latina's face and a game plan unfolds within her mind.

Tossing the ball back to Arizona, Callie subtly signals her pitcher. Arizona catches it and nods back. Feigning a need to take a breath, the blonde steps off the mound and turns her back to the batter's box, wiping her hand on her pants. Catching Naomi's gaze at short, Arizona swipes at her brow and subtly tugs at her ear. The play is in motion.

Stepping back up, Arizona accepts the signal for an away pitch, and Callie shuffles just a few inches in that direction. The instant Robbins starts her wind up, Naomi sprints to third, behind Erica and behind the line of sight of the runner. A blur of yellow streaks towards home, and before it even hits her glove Callie is out of her squat. Toned muscles move in precision and the Latina sends the ball screaming towards third. The runner is caught dead in the water, her early jump giving her too much of a lead. The British runner eats dirt as she tries to dive back to the bag in time, but it's too late.

"OUT!" The third base umpire calls, Naomi keeping her textbook tag on the runner until the play is called. The US bench explodes, Webber, Hunt, Sloan and Shepard cheering like little fangirls while those on the field shout and fist pump.

The ball gets sent around the horn, and the infield reconvenes at the pitching circle. Callie gets a round of high fives, as tradition, then everyone returns to their position.

As Callie turns away from her, Arizona smacks her firmly on her ass and purrs "Arizona Robbins is impressed." All Torres can do is chuckle and roll her eyes then retake her position behind home plate and continue to lead her team on to another victory.

"USA!"

"All the way!" The women shout from their circle around the pitcher's mound. Two more games have been played and Team USA has two more wins under their belt.

"Way to go ladies!" Hunt shouts over the excitement as his team file past the four coaches, getting a high five from everyone as they head into the dugout to pack up. "That's how you play some ball."

"Torres, hold up." Mark calls, Callie back tracking as the rest of her teammates do what they need to do to leave. Sloan distances him and his player from the rest of the ears, and lowers his voice. "Do that again, and I'm pulling you. You got it?"

"What?" Callie asks, completely knocked off balance at the tone and seriousness of her coach right now. Mark Sloan is not one who usually chastises his players, let alone Callie. They are more like equals than him being her superior. "What are you talking about?"

"I told you to walk that batter." He says, arms crossed tightly over his chest and doing his best to keep a hard look to his eyes. "Now is not the time for you to go show boating."

"But I-" The Latina tries but gets cut off.

"I don't want to hear it, Torres. I'm your coach. I called for a walk, and you didn't comply." Sloan states harshly. "Do it again and your ass will be getting comfortable on the bench, understand?"

"No." Callie answers matter of factly and its Mark's turn to be surprised by the sharpness of the other's tone. "I used my best judgment out there, something you've trusted everyday for the past three years. My gut said Arizona could take her. ...And she did. You remember that, right? Robbins got the K."

"That's not the point." Mark rebuttals.

"Then what is?" Torres questions. "What? Are we supposed to be playing safe ball now? Here, at the Olympics? Because I thought now was the time to push ourselves, push the other teams, to take risks. That's why we're here, right?"

"She was frazzled on the mound. Putting that batter on first would have given us a force at any bag." Sloan states. "You didn't know if Blondie would pull it out or not. For all you knew, she could have sent a fatty down the middle and the batter would have sent it sailing over the fence."

"But she didn't." The catcher says, cutting her coaches argument down in one sentence. "Arizona pitched the way I knew she would. ...That's why you paired me with her, Sloan. I know how she works. Yeah, she was struggling a little bit, but we talked and we got her going again, right?" Mark rubs at his face roughly, trying to wipe away the stress of a hard game. "Look... if I didn't think she could have done it, I wouldn't have pushed her. But I knew Arizona had it in her, so I let her pitch. ...Just like you have to let me catch, Coach. Let me do my job. There is a reason why you put me behind the plate. I'm good at what I do."

Mark searches his catcher's eyes, trying to come up with a half way decent argument. But as second after second passes, Callie can see his defense crumbling. Unleashing a smile on her long time friend, Sloan finally breaks and lets out a strangled laugh. Shaking his head, he just claps her on the shoulder and nudges her towards the dugout. Torres takes that as a 'you're excused' and starts to pack up while the coaches take a few minutes to themselves.

Rounding the corner out of the complex, a blonde jumps from behind a corner and startles the Latina. "Oh god!" She yelps, dark eyes finding shimmering blue ones. Arizona stands there, arm stretched out with her catcher's jacket in her hand, smiling at the flustered look on Torres's face. "Why is everyone popping out of corners today?" Callie asks as she takes her jacket from the smaller woman.

"Maybe you just scare easy." Robbins teases, the two of them falling into step side by side, neither of them thinking about how easily it is to find a common pace.

"Callie Torres does not get scared, she... just yells out at random intervals." The captain tries, her eyes lighting up as a giggle falls from the set of pink lips walking beside her. "And Callie Torres doesn't like to be laughed at." She adds earns her a playful nudge from her pitcher. The two make their way back to Olympic Village, both anxious as to what tonight will bring.

"Arizona!" Someone calls from the crowd of the cafeteria. Blue eyes scan the throngs of people but the blonde can't find anyone who would know her. "Arizona! Arizona come here!" The voice keeps calling, Teddy pushing her way through the crowd and appearing in front of her teammate. The first baseman doesn't wait for Robbins to answer, choosing instead to grab her by the arm and drag the pitcher after her.

"Teddy, what the hell?" Arizona asks, but her friend doesn't let up. Seconds later, the taller woman stops in her tracks, the surgeon running into her roommate with an 'oomph'. "Ow, damn it, Ted. What are you-" Her words trail off when blue eyes peek around the other woman, landing on the sight in front of her.

"It's Michael Phelps." Teddy whispers, eyes wide and the biggest smile on her face.

"No shit." Arizona replies, her eyes locked on the very tall man standing in front of them. The American legend is in the center of a group of people, signing autographs and taking pictures with fellow athletes. Only when she feels a warm hand on the small of her back does the surgeon peel her eyes away from the star in front of her. Turning, her gaze finds a star of her own. "It's Michael Phelps." Arizona whispers in the Latina's ear.

"No kidding." Callie states sarcastically, hip checking the blonde before grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd of fans. Pushing to the front, Torres greets the multiple world record holder with a big smile. Arizona hides behind the taller woman, embarrassed by her catcher's lack of shyness when she asks for a photo. The swimmer graciously agrees, and Robbins takes a step back, giving the two room for a picture.

"Get your ass up here Battleship." Callie commands when she sees her blonde shy away. The two woman stand on either side of the gentleman, three big smiles appearing on their faces as the light snaps. With a thank you, they leave the man to continue pleasing his fans. Using this distraction as a way to get away from her roommate, Arizona retakes the Latina's hand and pulls her out of the food tent, Callie not putting up a fight as she is led away from the rest of their team.

When you live in an apartment complex that houses thousands of people from all over the world, there is no such thing as privacy. At least, not outside your own bedroom or bathroom, and even then there is a high chance that a roommate could walk in on you. So try as they might, Arizona and Callie can't really find a place that they are truly alone. Instead, they settle on a bench at the furthest corner of the Olympic Complex. It has a view of nearly all the athletic buildings, lit up like Christmas trees with the rest of London serving as a background.

"Not too shabby for a second date, right?" Callie asks as they get settled, the Latina using the chill in the air as an excuse to wrap an arm around the blonde and pull her pitcher in closer to her body.

"Second date?" Arizona asks playfully, leaning into the warmth that just rolls off the larger woman's body. "I don't recall being asked on a second date, Ms. Torres."

"Well, Dr. Robbins... would you like to go out with me again?" Callie questions, her lips grazing the flesh just below Arizona's hairline. When the blonde doesn't respond right away, the Latina pulls back and sees the look of thought on Robbins face. "Don't think too hard now..." The catcher murmurs.

"Well... the movie theater is playing Transformers 3, and I've already seen it so... Yeah, I guess I'd be up for a second date." The surgeon sighs, feigning disinterest only to get a rise out of her catcher.

"Really? I'm Plan B? ...That's nice." Torres growls, and starts to pull her arm from where it is around the other woman but Arizona quickly apologizes. Dark eyes roll as the blonde snuggles back into her embrace, and the two lapse into silence again. Ten minutes pass, both Arizona and Callie perfectly content to sit with each other and take in the beauty of London at night. Few people pass by them but without their USA gear Callie and Arizona appear to just be another couple sitting by the street lights and enjoying a quiet evening together.

"You did good today." Callie whispers, the hand that's draped over the blonde now placed against Arizona's cheek, turning the pitcher's head to face her.

"So did you." Robbins replies, nudging the other woman gently. Dark blue eyes watch as the easy smile on Torres's face disappears, a look of intensity now staring back at her. It unsettles her because it feels like Callie has the ability to dig right down to the blonde's soul and hear everything Arizona has ever thought, feel everything she has ever felt. Those carefully constructed walls that the surgeon spent months and months building have all but crumbled to the ground in Callie's presence. And Arizona doesn't know if she loves it or hates it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Arizona whispers, their lips mere inches apart. But Callie doesn't answer, instead she leans in and closes that distance, luscious red lips meeting delicious pink lips. Their kiss is soft and easy, nothing like their make out session last night in Torres's room. The Latina pulls the blonde in closer to her, Arizona's head tipping back and a fair hand coming up to cup a tanned cheek.

They part when air becomes a necessity, smiles playing on both their faces as their foreheads rest against one another's. Callie's heart is beating a mile a minute and a very uncomfortable ache has settled in between her legs. The Latina wants nothing more in the world right now than to whisk Arizona off to the privacy and safety of a room and show the beaten and broken woman what it really means to be loved. Physically show Arizona what all the blonde does to Callie. ...But she doesn't because even though they have made huge strides in their relationship, whatever relationship that might be, Torres knows it would be all too easy to push Robbins too hard and send her running again. So instead she is content to sit here on this bench, a strong arm wrapped around the only woman who has ever made her feel this way.

Arizona takes a deep breath as she tries to steady her shaking hands, the scent that is purely Calliope Torres invades her body and makes her moan in bliss. "You smell like Michael Phelps." She teases.

"You smell like Michael Phelps." Callie parrots, the two of them lapsing into a fit of hysterics.

"Oh!" Arizona yelps, eyes glistening with tears of laughter as she pulls out of Callie's embrace and grabs her bag. "Guess what I scored?" She asks, blindly reaching into her drawstring backpack and pulling out a plastic wrapper.

It takes Callie a second to figure out what it is, the dim light of the street lamp creating mostly shadows instead of aiding her vision. But then it clicks. "Gummy bears?" She plays, a big smile on her lips. "Where'd you get these?"

"I traded with one of the German soccer girls." The blonde answers while trying to open the package. "I looked all over for gummy worms but couldn't find them. These were the next best thing."

"Do I want to know what you traded?" The Latina asks in jest, but a hint of seriousness in her gaze. The thought of Arizona trading anything other than goods makes the catcher jealous, and that surprises her. It's not unlikely that there are many people around Olympic Village that would take to flirting with Arizona Robbins. Hell... Torres is sure that anyone with a pulse, man or woman, would be up for some action with her pitcher, and Callie snarls at the thought of it.

Instantly keying in to the slight tension in her captain's body, the edge in her tone, Arizona plays "Probably not." Only when her pitcher sends her a teasing wink does Callie relax slightly, an image of some other woman flirting with her woman still playing in her mind.

The bag of gummy bears slowly but surely disappears as Callie and Arizona spend the waning hours of their day seated on that park bench, all of London passing before their eyes. And all too soon, Torres's phone chimes a warning that reminds them of their approaching curfew.

Taking one last minute to enjoy the view, dark eyes drift to the blonde next to her, a dimpled smile shining brighter than the lights of the Tower Bridge in the distance, the Latina softly asks "Can I confess something?"

Arizona turns her head and finds the catcher watching her. "Sure." She whispers.

"Your smile is the prettiest I've ever seen." Callie states.

A blush, hidden in the darkness, makes the pitcher's cheeks warm. "Can I confess as well?" Arizona asks, light blue eyes meeting deep chocolate eyes in the low light.

"Sure." Torres whispers.

The surgeon takes a deep breath, ignoring the voice in her head that is telling her shut up, and says "This smile only exists when I'm with you."

At just after ten o'clock the next morning, Teddy saunters out of hers and Arizona's shared bedroom to answer the pounding on their front door. Today is a little different than the previous two in which USA only has one match. They play in the evening against the reigning Gold medal team, Japan. So for most of the day the ladies are free to do as they like so long as they are ready when game time rolls around.

Arizona barely looks up from her laptop as her friend opens the front door, revealing a tall and dark Richard Webber. "What's up Coach?" Teddy asks, surprised to see their head coach at their door. Richard only makes house calls for bed checks or bad news. ...And there was no scheduled curfew for today.

"I need you and Robbins to pack up." Webber states matter of factly. This catches the surgeon's attention, and Arizona quickly joins the two in the main room.

"Why?" She asks.

"Just doing some rearranging, that's all ladies." He answers with a smile. "You two are switching rooms with Hahn and Campbell." When he sees his players looking very confused, he tries to explain as diplomatically as possible. "There is some... tension between some of your teammates so I'm just trying to make everyone happy. I know that you ladies get along well with Torres and Montgomery, so I figured you'd have no problem taking one for the team."

"Uh... no sir." Arizona answers, finding Teddy's gaze. But instead of the confused look she expects to see, Robbins finds a shit eating grin spread across the first baseman's lips.

"Great. Hahn and Campbell are getting packed up now. So, whenever you are ready just head down the hall." The head coach adds before giving his players a quick tip of his imaginary hat and turning on his heel to continue prepping for the big game.

Teddy slowly closes the door and leans against it, her arms crossing over her chest and eyes sparkling in amusement. Arizona tries to keep a blush from igniting her cheeks, but fails miserably under the scrutinizing look of her friend. The fact that she somehow stumbled into the opportunity to, essentially, live with Callie for the remainder of the Games is not lost on her, but Arizona really wishes Teddy would stop looking at her like that.

"So..." Altman drawls, tongue clicking against her teeth. "Guess I should have packed some earplugs as well."

"Shut it, Theodore." Arizona growls, shoving her friend as the blonde goes back to their room to start packing.

A half hour later both Arizona and Teddy haul their bags to their new apartment just a couple doors down. The front door is unlocked so Altman lets them in, finding Erica and Naomi on their way out. When Hahn looks up and discovers who is swapping with her, a dark, evil chuckle falls from her thin lips.

"Naturally." She growls to the heavens. "Why wouldn't it be her?" Just then, the front door opens again and this time it's Callie who enters, very confused at why four of her teammates have their stuff all packed, two of them not even belonging in this apartment.

"What's going on?" The Latina asks, noticing the hard glare radiating from steel blue eyes of her fellow catcher as well as the uneasiness falling from Arizona.

"Room change." Hahn replies sarcastically, her voice singing the words a bit more than necessary. Her gaze meets dark brown eyes and she adds "Looks like you win after all, Cal." With a snarl and one last look of contempt towards Callie and Arizona, Erica storms past the group and exits the apartment.

"Great. This will be fun." Naomi groans, not knowing what the hell just transpired but not looking forward to the idea of rooming with an even more pissed off Erica Hahn. They've only been here a handful of days, and those weren't fun, but now it seems that something has angered the blonde even more and Campbell isn't sure how much more she can take.

One second the living room of Callie's tiny apartment is busting at the seams with tension and anger, and the next it's full of confusion. Torres, Robbins and Altman all stand there, lost as to what to do next. Callie knew Erica requested a room change, but not in her wildest dreams did she expect it to lead to Arizona rooming with her. Well... ok, maybe in her wildest... wettest dreams, but she certainly didn't expect it.

"So..." Teddy drawls, glancing between her co-captain and her friend who have been staring at each other for the last minute. "I'll just go..." She adds, disappearing into recently vacated bedroom.

Arizona shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, heavy bags weighing down her shoulders despite the fact she should be resting for the game later today. She doesn't know what to say. What do you say when you end up sharing a very small living space with the person you just can't get out of your mind. The same person who you know you shouldn't be thinking those things about. And yet the mere idea of it being 'forbidden' makes it all that more delicious.

Torres can almost see the smoke coming out of the blonde's ears and she knows the Arizona is thinking again. Thinking in a bad way, thinking of ways to distance herself from the Latina and Callie doesn't like that. Not that she blames Arizona. Her own mind is going into overdrive with images of some very pleasant alone time with her pitcher. But Callie isn't here for that reason, neither is Arizona. They can't get lost in each other, despite how much Callie wants lock herself in a room with the surgeon and only come out for food and water. No... they are here to take care of business, to play ball and win Gold. That is their job.

"We're going to need rules." Callie states firmly.

Arizona nods tightly, her throat seemingly gone dry while her mouth fills with saliva... if that's even possible. "Yeah... Yeah, definitely."

It's time. Game time. The air within the softball complex is buzzing and everyone is on the edge of their seats. It's only a prelim game, but still... USA is going up against Japan. The softball powerhouse of the world is going up against the reigning Gold Medal holders. One unbeaten team versus the only other unbeaten team. A rematch of the 2008 Summer Olympics Championship round, and everyone is anticipating a hell of a game.

Arizona scans the stands, thousands of people packed into uncomfortable seats and awaiting for the game to begin, and those butterflies start to flutter away again. She thought she'd be over it by now, over the wonder of it all, the thrill and anxiety of playing on the world's largest stage. But she's not. She still feels like that rookie, the one who gets put in the game with the score tied, runner on third with no outs. Like she's the one who takes the loss and burdens the hate.

"You're not nervous, are you?" Callie asks as she gears up, pulling blue eyes away from the stands and seeing the way Arizona is chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"Nope." She answers shortly for fear that if she opens her mouth more than she has to her lunch just might make a reappearance. Torres just chuckles, sending the blonde a disbelieving look before Webber calls his team into a circle.

"Alright ladies, listen up." He announces and everyone silences, just the roar of the crowd in the background. "The Japanese play small ball which means the infield needs to be on their toes. Outfield, make sure you back up the bags just in case because this team is aggressive. Their runner's are fast and they know how to capitalize on even the smallest mistake. We need to stay clean." The women nod along as their leader goes over everything they already know. "Hunt, give us the line up."

The red head steps forward, all eyes turning to their fielding coach. "Robbins, up first, pitching." CLAP CLAP "Yang, second, right." CLAP CLAP. "Campbell, batting third, at third. Torres, clean up, catching. Montgomery, fifth, playing second. Grey, sixth, left. Canner, seventh, center. Altman, eight, at first. And rounding us off, King, playing short." Hunt finishes, then nods to Callie.

"Hands in ladies." Callie calls, holding her hand out and the rest of her team following suit. "Game time, ladies. Time to show them whose field this is. On me... USA!"

"ALL THE WAY!" Her team cheers, hands breaking while the American fans holler their support from the stands. Those not in the lineup take their places along the dugout fence while the rest jog out on the field. Arizona and Callie take their time, both already warmed up and ready for action. Torres escorts her pitcher out to the mound, dark eyes scanning the stands for some faces she is positive won't be there. ...But a girl can dream.

The entire Japanese team turns their sights to the blonde pitcher, all waiting to see what this previously unknown player has. Robbins feels the eyes on her and her palms start to sweat, a surge of adrenaline being pushed into her blood stream. The sun is just starting to dip and the slight chill in the air doesn't even register in her mind because Arizona's entire body shaking in anxious energy. With an assuring word from her catcher, Robbins takes her stance on the rubber and awaits for her first batter.

Callie checks her infield, getting a nod from both Altman at first and Campbell at third, then gives Arizona her signal. Dark eyes glance up to the batter standing in front of her, the Japanese woman crowding her plate and already starting in with the mind tricks.

"Wanna play?" Callie whispers to herself. "Let's play, baby." Setting up her glove as a target, she readies herself as Arizona pushes off the mound with force and sends the ball flying. It's a blur of yellow, the batter moving for it but holding back. The crack of leather against leather, the burn in her hand makes Callie smile. This is what she was born to do, this is what she lives for.

"Strike!" The umpire calls. It's game on.