A/N: I'm shifting this story around a little bit, to give their conversation at Joe's a chance to go in two different directions. I still think that the "forty years" comment is going to freak Cristina out a little bit no matter what, but my hope is that she'd save that for Meredith and try to keep things light with Owen. Which would leave him with a choice to make. . .Wait, what's that you say about a promo?? Can't hear you. . . la la la la la. Anyway, former (slightly-edited) stand-alone chaper 1 is now chapter 2. Sexier, alternate ending planned for chapter 3. Still trying to decide how *much* sexier. : )

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"Forty years from now. . ." She hadn't missed it. Even before it had registered the rest of his sentence, her brain had filed away the opening phrase. Cristina Yang wasn't the kind of girl to endlessly ponder the hidden meaning in any guy's every word – not even Owen Hunt's – but still, she would probably have revisited the "forty" even without his going back and putting it in bold. And italics.

She watched him for a minute, searching his face. She'd never met anyone who was so damned direct. Sometimes it was a thrill, and sometimes. . .Wasn't there supposed to be an order to things, some sort of logical progression? Like having dinner together before any potentially life-altering declarations were just put out there in the middle of Joe's? Instinctively, Cristina tried to keep it light. "Wow. You army guys don't waste any time."

He smiled, his expression losing any trace of nervousness. "What's the point in wasting time?"

"Um. . .you do realize," she leaned in, whispering so that she wouldn't be overheard, "that we haven't seen each other naked yet?"

Owen sucked in his breath at the images that called up, and part of him said to hell with it, just take her home. But he'd had this argument with himself too many times to count, and every time, desire had fought a losing battle against the demons in his head.

He absolutely hated this, hated the way she'd immediately tensed at his hesitation, hated having to say it all out loud to her. At least the first part was easy enough. "I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you."

"But. . ." She waited, trying to keep an open mind, trying to focus on the words he'd just said, the heat in his voice. But here it was, finally, the reason why they hadn't gotten any further than a few life-altering kisses, and she didn't know if she wanted to hear it. Her body felt like it was bracing for a blow.

"Right now, it feels like I spend every minute of every day trying to stay in control. And when I'm caught off-guard and. . .things start coming apart. . .you've seen what that looks like," he said, cringing at the memory of his recent panic attack and the mental image of himself drunk and fully-clothed in her shower. "I'm afraid of what'll happen if I let go all the way, I can't. . ." He stopped and sat staring at his mostly empty bottle of beer.

"What?"

"I honestly don't know. I just know that I'm right, I know that I'm not ready. . .it's just. . ." He stopped short again, shaking his head from side to side.

She looked at him quizzically, but didn't say anything, didn't want to push. "If the man I was a year ago could see me sitting here, talking myself out of taking you to bed. . .he'd kick my ass." He smiled sadly.

At the mention of the cocky army surgeon she'd met six months ago, Cristina felt a twinge of regret. "Why did you kiss me, the night we met?" she asked softly. She wasn't just trying to shift the conversation; this was a question she'd wanted the answer to from the moment he'd walked out of her exam room, leaving her stunned with his blue eyes and his badass "so?s" and that crazy-sexy surprise of a kiss.

"What's the point in wasting time?" He smiled at her again, with less sadness, but not willing or ready to tell her everything yet about that first kiss. He'd already been an idiot once with the forty years comment, no need to tell her that the rush she'd given him that first night had both ended his engagement to Beth and pulled him back to Seattle even when he'd felt sure that he'd never be at home there again.

But Owen was determined that she would at least know his intentions for the very-near future. "I don't want to mess this up, and I'm working on it. I'm trying to get there, I'm going to get there. I just want everything to be the way it should be when we make love. When we make love soon." On that last word, he raised his eyebrows and dipped his chin, looking up at her pointedly.

Cristina couldn't help but smile. "I can drink to that," she said, eyes never leaving his as she tipped her glass for one last swallow.