Work Text:
Finally. Amelia lets herself fall against the door behind her, eyes closed, sighing in relief. She didn't know what she needed, not exactly, until she got here. An empty break-room and, finally, silence.
It's all too much, the surgeries, the risk . And it's not like this isn't normal, isn't the same shit she has to deal with every day, but now there's fucking Beltr–
“Hi.”
The voice is deep and rich and uncomfortably familiar. Fuck. Amelia’s eyes snap open in an instant and there she is, the very person she came here to avoid.
“Not you again, please,” Amelia groans instinctively, rolling her eyes. She doesn't even try to hide the irritation she feels for the other woman, there's no point. There are her glares, anyway, the constant bickering and the way she literally preferred taking the stairs over being in an elevator with the other woman. Beltran knows. It's fine.
“Good to see you too.” The other woman’s voice is dripping with sarcasm and Amelia– doesn't get it. She’s smart, she gets things, she's the Head of Neurosurgery, for fuck’s sake. But this, she doesn't understand. The completely irrational annoyance she's felt for this woman since the very first second they met, and even less so this: Beltran’s knowing smirk, the way she just takes it, seems not offended in the least. “You wanna sit down? You seem like you could use a break.”
“Fuck you,” Amelia states point blank, and then sits down opposite of Beltran. Everything in her screams to contradict the other woman, no, I could not use a break, you don't know me, but it is so, so childish, and she did walk all the way here (to avoid the other doctor, again, childishly), so she might as well stay before there's nothing left of the break she so desperately longed for.
“You're being incredibly childish.” The exact word Amelia just used to describe herself, in her own head, and yet she wants to tell her to be quiet. I have my reasons. But she doesn’t, really.
“I'm trying to avoid you, like an adult , so that whatever this is–” Amelia awkwardly gestures between the two of them “–doesn’t interfere with either of our work. But you're just…everywhere.”
“I work here.”
“I know. That is my problem.”
Not even a flinch on Beltran’s end, her eyes still firmly on Amelia, her gaze curious, if anything. “Why? Because I push you to be a better surgeon, to think outside of the box again?”
“You’re–”
“You're mad because I was right. Because I'm right this time too. And because usually you’re the one who's right, always. You can't stand it. And it's so unprofessional, because that's not what this should be about, it's about–”
Amelia sighs. What she wants is for this conversation to be over, so she concurs. “Okay, you were right. We saved that baby’s life and the mother’s too, but it was incredibly risky. You were right that time, but I don't know about this time, and I just need time to think, but I can't.”
“ He told me about you.”
“What? Who?”
“He said that you're like me, that we're very alike.” A chuckle. “He said we'd either get along great or slam each other's heads in within the first week. Guess he was right.”
“Okay, I’m leaving, this really isn’t helping.”
Amelia gets up abruptly. This is why she chose to take the stairs, the other day. Because Beltran is irritating and annoying and too keen on solving whatever problem they’re having here, on talking to Amelia way too calmly and therefore reminding Amelia of all the things she’s doing wrong right now. Because this should be what Amelia wants as well, to get this out of the way and talk like adults, but instead she’s trying to run for some reason.
Before Amelia can open the door and escape though, a hand pushes flat against it so that she can’t. There’s Beltran, her body confidently blocking Amelia’s path, and they’re so close suddenly that Amelia can almost feel the other woman’s breath against her skin. She's mad still, but suddenly, with a sinking feeling and a maddening rush, she gets an idea where all those weird, overwhelming feelings came from. Embarrassingly, from somewhere between her legs.
“You're not leaving. We’ll talk this out.”
Amelia takes a deep breath, tries to focus on anything, literally anything, but the inappropriate way her body is reacting to this situation. This, she’ll handle like a professional, her voice calm and steady and not betraying her current state in the slightest. She’s almost proud of herself, before she remembers where she is. “Okay, but I am. You can't tell me what to do, unless you really want Webber to have been right about what's going to happen here.”
Beltran shakes her head, almost imperceptibly so. “You're right. I don't know you. I'm sorry to have presumed how you feel about me, how you feel in general. But what I do know is that you're awfully tense, all the fucking time, and it's interfering with your work and mine.”
“I'm not–”
Beltran laughs, loudly. Unexpectedly. “You're not tense? Is that what you just wanted to tell me? How high is your pulse right now? You need to relax.”
“Don't tell me what to do.” It’s supposed to come out loud and clear and angry, but suddenly Amelia’s voice is softer, almost a whisper, raspier. And with a jolt she realizes what’s about to happen next, where this has all led to since the very beginning. She doesn’t try to fight it.
“Okay, I won't.” With that, Beltran kisses her.
She kisses her and Amelia is not surprised. Immediately she reciprocates and within seconds it escalates from kissing to desperately clawing at each other’s clothes, Beltran's lips everywhere and Amelia’s parted in a shocked moan.
“Fuck, this is such a bad idea, we shouldn’t–” Amelia starts in between moans, but Beltran’s hand is wandering unerringly and Amelia isn’t stopping her, grabs it and shoves it into her pants herself, because they should stop but it also isn’t happening fast enough, and she cannot wait, just needs–
“We shouldn’t what? I can stop, if you want to.” Beltran whispers smugly right as she slips into Amelia, who hates herself for being so obvious, wanting this so badly. Immediately she starts grinding against Beltran, begging for more, eliciting complacent chuckles from the other woman. “Yeah, I thought so.”
This is not who Amelia is. She gets frustrated often and easily. What she does then, is get herself off at home, let off steam otherwise. If she does this, something like it anyway, she’s the one in control. But now Beltran adds another finger, starts thrusting into her mercilessly in a fucking break-room, where anyone could walk in if it wasn’t for the two of them blocking the door, where anyone could hear, and all Amelia can do is whine and silently ask for harder, faster.
“Have you thought about this? Is that why you're so tense around me all the time? Because you kept picturing this? Because you wanted me to fuck you so badly? Because you wanted to do the same to me, perhaps?”
“Fuck, Beltran.” Amelia groans, doesn’t understand how Beltran’s still so calm and composed, fucking her with an almost surgical precision and hitting all the right spots. Of course. Of course she’d be good at this. Amelia is too close already and almost wants to stop herself, simply as to not give Beltran the satisfaction. But she can’t.
“Did you?”
“Please, I need–”
Beltran stops all movements, waits till Amelia’s desperate hips still and their eyes meet. “Did you, Shepherd? Did you keep thinking about this, what I’d feel like inside of you? Is that really all our little problem is about?”
“The problem is that you're annoying.” Amelia spits out through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing angrily.
“Okay, if I’m so annoying…” Beltran hums casually and makes to pull her fingers out of Amelia, slowly, slowly. To give Amelia time, the latter understands.
“Fuck, please, wait. Yes. I thought about it. I tried not to, but I did–”
“God, you’re so hot like this,” Beltran groans and pushes all the way back into Amelia, immediately picks up her pace again, fucking Amelia until she’s coming with a muffled scream, biting into her own hand as she remembers that there are people probably walking down the hallway right behind them. This is all the control she has over her body, however, the rest of her convulsing and then slumping, spent, against the door.
She tries to stop herself but there’s a small, satisfied smirk blooming on her lips as she comprehends what just happened. What she just did. At work, with her new colleague she really, really can’t stand. Even now, maybe especially now.
“Feel better, Shepherd? Is it out of your system now?”
Amelia doesn't give her the satisfaction of an answer, but she does reach out to touch Beltran. “Let me–”
– repay the favor. But Beltran catches her wrists before Amelia actually manages to touch any of her, smirks again when Amelia just so manages to stifle a small moan. She leans in close, whispers in her ear. “My break’s over, Shepherd, I need to get back to work. I'm afraid you'll have to be patient for me.”
With that she leaves, and Amelia is left in silence. The silence she wanted all along, to think. Except now that silence is accompanied by her own panting and she is, by all accounts, a mess. Her underwear is uncomfortably wet, her heart still racing, and she can't believe what just happened.
And then she gets mad. Because Beltran was right. Again. She did need to relax, probably. Except now she feels the opposite, feels riled up more than anything, and wonders how she’s supposed to survive the rest of her shift, with Beltran
right there,
and knowing, now, what her fingers feel like inside of her, wondering what she could do with her mouth. Wondering if she could finally get Beltran to shut up somehow, too.
//
It is not much later that Amelia is back working, or trying to, and Arizona takes one look at her, grins, asks, “and who did you just sleep with, Dr.Shepherd?”
Amelia’s eyes widen, caught. “Excuse me?”
“Your hair,” Arizona grins and gestures awkwardly around her own head. “You’re kind of a mess.”
“Fuck.”
And of course Beltran chooses this moment to walk past them, acting as though nothing happened, as if she didn’t just fuck Amelia senseless mere minutes ago. “Shepherd. Robbins.”
Amelia isn’t sure if Arizona saw Beltran’s smirk just as she turned to walk away, but there must have been something there to tell, because the second the doctor is out of sight, Arizona grabs Amelia’s arm. “Beltran?? You slept with Beltran?! I thought you hated her.”
“I do.”
“But was it good?”
Amelia groans. “Too good.”
“So you’re gonna do it again?”
Amelia sighs, bites her lip, shakes her head. Thinks of skilled fingers, thinks of god, you’re so hot like this, thinks about next time. “I shouldn’t.”