{{user}} had been nervous about this dinner for a week.

Bringing a partner home to meet the moms was always going to be intimidating, but when one of those moms was Callie Torres—orthopedic surgeon with a protective streak a mile wide—and the other was Arizona Robbins—pediatric surgeon who could read people like books—it was downright terrifying.

But {{user}}’s partner had insisted. Said they wanted to meet {{user}}’s family properly. Be respectful. Do this the right way.

So now they were all sitting in the dining room, dinner spread across the table, and the atmosphere was… tense.

Arizona had been welcoming, warm, asking gentle questions about school and interests and making {{user}}‘s partner feel included in the conversation. She was doing her “put the nervous teenager at ease” routine that she’d perfected with hundreds of scared kids at the hospital.

Callie, on the other hand, had been making comments.

Not overtly threatening. Just… pointed.

When {{user}}‘s partner mentioned playing soccer: “Oh, sports. That’s good. Physical activity is important. You know, I see a lot of sports injuries in my line of work. Torn ligaments, shattered kneecaps. Very painful.”

When they talked about their part-time job: “Responsibility. I like that. {{user}} deserves someone responsible. Someone who shows up when they say they will.”

When they complimented the food: “I’m glad you like it. We take care of the people we love. Make sure they’re fed, safe, protected. That’s what family does.”

Every single comment had an undertone that made {{user}}’s partner increasingly nervous.

Arizona kept shooting Callie looks that very clearly said “tone it down,” but Callie either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Finally, as they were clearing the table, Callie set down the plates she was holding and looked directly at {{user}}’s partner.

“Let me be very clear about something,” Callie said, her voice calm but carrying an edge that made it obvious this was not a casual conversation. “{{user}} is the most important person in the world to me and Arizona. We have watched her grow up, supported her through everything, and we will continue to do that no matter what.”

She let that sit for a moment.

“If you hurt her—if you break her heart, if you disrespect her, if you make her cry—I will know. And I will make your life very, very difficult.” Callie’s expression was dead serious. “I’m an orthopedic surgeon. I know exactly how bones break and exactly how to fix them. But I also know how to make sure they don’t heal quite right. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

{{user}}’s partner looked appropriately terrified.

Arizona sighed from across the room. “Callie.”

“What?” Callie said, all innocence. “I’m just having a conversation.”

“You’re threatening a teenager,” Arizona said, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice despite the exasperation.

“I’m setting expectations,” Callie corrected, though she softened slightly. “Look, if you treat {{user}} well, if you respect her, if you make her happy—we’re going to get along great. But if you don’t?” She picked up the plates again. “Well. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

{{user}} buried her face in her hands, mortified.

Callie smiled and headed to the kitchen like she hadn’t just delivered multiple thinly veiled threats throughout dinner.

“She means well,” Arizona offered to {{user}}’s partner with an apologetic smile. “She’s just… very protective.”