I'm in season 8 of my Grey's education and I keep getting these Cristina/Teddy feelings and then Henry died and their bromance increased to the nth degree and now I can't decide if I actually ship them or just love them as BFFs so here's what I did.
Takes place after 8x10. Not beta'd.
She finds the address in Owen's phone and is standing in front of Teddy's door ten minutes later. The bobby pin she brought ends up being unnecessary and she rolls her eyes, because what kind of idiot mourns her husband's death behind an unlocked apartment door?
The liquor cabinet by the TV is wide open and the gap between two of the bottles makes it glaringly obvious that something's missing. She pauses for a beat, listening hard to the silence like she's waiting for a heart to restart—
No. She's not going to think about muscles that don't beat.
It only takes her a few moments to pick up on the sniffles coming from down the hall. She heads around the corner and finds the bedroom door wide open (seriously, has Teddy never grieved before?); she closes it as she enters, and Teddy abruptly rolls over on the bed to lock soggy red eyes with her.
"Cristina?" Her voice is thick and fragile, like a shattered femur held together by rods and screws. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, for starters, your apartment is actually safe now. You're welcome."
Teddy just blinks at her.
She spots a bottle of vodka on the nightstand, but the cap is still on and she's pretty sure there's only an inch of air at the top. "Did you even drink any of that?"
Teddy swallows and sniffs. "No."
"What is wrong with you," Cristina groans, grabbing the bottle and taking a seat next to Teddy. She unscrews the cap and knocks back a gulp, then holds out the bottle to Teddy, who's staring blankly at her.
"What are you doing?"
Cristina just pushes the bottle toward her again, and this time she accepts. She takes a long sip, grimacing at the burn, and passes it back.
Cristina takes another swig. "This is what I do."
Teddy drinks again, then sits up a little.
"When something happens to Meredith," she continues, taking the bottle again and downing another gulp, "This is what I do."
Teddy tries to wipe away some tears even as more slide down her cheeks. "Why?"
Cristina shrugs. "I'm her person. She's my person. We're each other's persons." She frowns and takes another sip. "People?"
All of a sudden Teddy's face is crumpling. "Henry was my person," she sobs, and Cristina grabs the bottle before she can tip it over. "And now he's dead and I don't have a person anymore." She rolls onto her back and covers her face with her hands, which doesn't do much to muffle her cries.
"Uh, correction," Cristina replies before another gulp, "You have me."
Teddy coughs a few times and slowly lowers her hands. "I do?"
Cristina raises an eyebrow. "Well, yeah."
She blinks at her again. "Okay." She takes the bottle and downs several sips in a row, then hands it back to Cristina. "So, what else do you do?" she asks, starting to slur her words. "When stuff happens to Meredith."
Cristina takes another drink. "Well, the procedure usually consists of me letting myself into her house, then going upstairs and interrupting her Derek time… I kick him out—unless he leaves of his own volition, which he's been very good about lately—then I get into bed with her… and, you know. Just." She shrugs. "Whatever. I'm there for her."
"You don't drink?"
"No. This," she says, holding up the bottle, "is a special circumstance. And way more exciting." She sips again but sets it back on the nightstand instead of giving it to Teddy.
"What are you doing?" Teddy whines, trying to reach for the bottle, "Give it back."
Cristina grips Teddy's wrists to keep her arms still. "We have a surgery tomorrow and I'd prefer if neither of us had a hangover."
Teddy frowns for a moment, glaring at Cristina's hands, but then her expression changes. She pulls out of her grip, only to take Cristina's hands loosely in her own; she turns them over, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examines each individual finger.
"Your hands were inside Henry's body a few hours ago," she murmurs. "You were the last person to touch him while he was alive."
Cristina cocks her eyebrow again. "Well, I was wearing gloves, so… not really."
Teddy remains transfixed. She takes Cristina's hands, places them gently against her own cheeks, and closes her eyes.
"I did everything I could to save him," Cristina blurts, staring at her lap. She can feel Teddy's jaw muscles working beneath her fingertips. "You have to believe me," she says, pulling her hands away and slipping down in the bed so they're at the same eye level. "I did everything I could." Her eyes are burning and there's a lump in her throat that wasn't there a second ago.
Teddy looks at her with glassy eyes, licks her already wet lips, and nods. "I believe you," she whispers, the words barely making it out as tears leak out of the corner of her eye and drip over the bridge of her nose. She sniffs again and Cristina can see her control slipping.
"Sometimes Meredith cries on my shoulder," she says, keeping her voice as steady as possible. "So if you wanted to do that, you could."
Teddy nods again, slowly, and after a few somewhat jerky shifts on the bed, her head is resting in the crook of Cristina's neck. She can feel hot tears dripping onto her skin; she bends her arm and starts gently combing her fingertips through Teddy's hair, something that Owen's done for her countless times—
Her hand stops, because she doesn't want to think about Owen—not after what he did, not after what he made her do.
Not when Teddy's lying in her arms.
She leans over a bit to attempt to grab the vodka again, but then Teddy's arms are tight around her.
"Don't go," Teddy mumbles into her shirt, sniffing and then letting out a shaky breath.
"I'm not going anywhere," Cristina replies quietly.
Teddy's crying freely again. "Owen left, and then Andrew left, and now Henry's gone…" She sits up a little so she can look Cristina in the eye. "You can't leave me."
Cristina tucks a lock of hair behind Teddy's ear. "I won't."
She nods and glances down at their bodies, like she's trying to figure something out, and then slowly shifts until she's on top of Cristina.
"What are you doing?"
"Be here for me," she whispers, looking down at Cristina's lips now.
Cristina swallows. "I don't do this with Meredith."
Teddy's face is so close to hers. "Special circumstances, right?" She doesn't wait for Cristina's response and closes the distance between their mouths.
The kiss tastes like vodka, and it's slow and fragile and meticulous, because that's apparently how they do everything these days. Burke was just as arrogant and greedy with his affection as he was with his surgeries; Owen is aggressive and controlling, because he never really turns off the trauma adrenalin.
She and Teddy are cardiovascular surgeons, graceful and precise, a perfect team, and that's how they kiss. They work together, moving their lips and tongues as if they can read each other's minds.
(Cristina doesn't expect Teddy to take her shirt off, or for their clothes to disappear altogether, or for her mouth to end up between Teddy's legs. But then again, the best surgeons are the ones who can improvise.)