Mature themes, sex(hope I didn't make a fool of myself), language. If you enjoy, let me know if you would like me to continue.

"mmmm … Owen," Cristina rolled over, waking from her dream, which had been a continuation of their incredibly hot night last night. She loved that no matter how hot her dreams were, they never approached the excitement of actually being with him, the feel of his hands on her. Those hands that made her feel as no one else in her previous, as she thought excellent, love life had before.

His side of the bed was cold. Cristina's momentary disappointment was quickly replaced by the thought that most likely, Owen would return with coffee and donuts and fattening eggy, sausagey things. She might frequently sigh about some of the military habits he was unable to kick, but she would never complain about his ability to rise early for a quick run and return with breakfast for them both. Well, while she waited she might as well replay some of last night . . .

Owen climbed the stairs, his breath catching as it always did when he caught sight of his wife. Oh, and she was apparently awake. His pulse started to race as he saw her hands travel beneath the tangled sheet.

"Let me finish that," he said, quickly setting down breakfast before moving over her and pulling her arms above her head.

Cristina's surprised eyes looked up at him. He had that same look when he had first pulled out her icicle – the first time she had thought about . . .

She tried to pull him close but Owen resisted. I'm sweaty from running – just wait . . . He held himself above her as his mouth found her breast, his stubble sending little electric shocks through her as he moved down her body.

"Oh," Cristina managed. Owen's hands brushed lightly over her followed by his tongue, gently licking and kissing, teasing before entering - his hands moving behind her as he gained greater access. Cristina's hands clutched Owen's hair as he drove his tongue further into her. She gasped as he brought one hand to her front, using his thumb to bring her to a climax. "God. Owen." She brought his mouth up for a kiss, tasting herself. "Shower. Now."

Cristina dragged Owen to the shower, almost causing them to stumble before she flipped on the hot water. Cristina pulled off Owen's t-shirt and shorts, already soaking. "Cris, I brought breakfast …" "Shut up, I'm too hungry for breakfast," she whispered heatedly into his ear. "It's my turn."

Cristina moved her hands down Owen's beautiful body. She loved his body – so rough and masculine. She couldn't remember a time when pale skin didn't make her break into a sweat – how had that happened? She kissed his muscular chest, his taut stomach. She reached down and took him in her hands. He was so hard. And so big. She stroked him and licked her lips as she knelt down. She looked up into Owen's eyes, glazed over with desire and locked her gaze to his as she brought him to her mouth. Owen braced himself against the tile as his other hand automatically found her thick curls. Cristina took the tip of his penis in her mouth, teasing him with her tongue. "Cris . . ." Owen 's voice broke. She took him all the way in, hungrily sucking and stroking the length of his cock as she felt Owen's willpower beginning to give. In the next moment Owen used his strength to bring her to her feet and in one movement drove into her, the last vestige of his control gone. Cristina wrapped herself around him, suddenly weak as he pounded into her, leaving them gasping each other's names. It was a good thing the firehouse had good soundproofing . . .

"I think the coffee's cold," Owen frowned.

"That's why God invented microwaves, Babe."

Owen smiled at his wife. Then he turned serious, "Are you sure you're okay with my choosing April for Chief Resident?"

Cristina looked back at him. "We talked about this. I meant it when I said I think you're right - I actually thought you were going to choose Meredith before she found out her adoption is coming through and dropped out of the race. Or Alex before he pulled that crazy stunt."

"You are the best surgeon at this hospital and maybe the best cardio resident in the country."

"And don't you forget it. Wait. Maybe?"

"Definitely."

"Can't say it didn't hurt my pride just a little, but I had time to think it over and you made a good point. I want to do surgery and have major medical breakthroughs, not have mounds of paperwork and have to deal with people's petty complaints. Same thing with you and turning down being chief."

"You know, if I thought that's what you really wanted, I would have picked you."

"Even though I would have been crappy at the administrative stuff? Be careful Dr. Hunt, people might start to think you've lost your ability to be 'professional.'"

"I think I lost that a while ago when it comes to you. Luckily, you blind them with your brilliance so no one notices my impartiality is slipping."

"Ha! Well, at least that means that as penance for her perky efficiency April has to be at the hospital organizing the surgical schedule for the week this morning and I can be here having great sex and donuts before surgery." Cristina chomped on a big apple fritter with satisfaction.

Owen relaxed a little. Deep down he knew he had done the right thing for Cristina's career, but she had every right not to see it that way.

"Besides, all I can think of now is the new experimental artificial heart-lung transplant coming up. Just waiting for the final word from the FDA for the go ahead and then on to cardio immortality." Cristina started on the bacon, egg, cheese biscuit. Owen watched her down the next 1000 calories "really, where does it all go?"

"To my massive brain, Hon, to my massive brain."

Later that evening, Cristina, tired but satisfied after surgery climbed the stairs, looking forward to curling up with Owen. Maybe he would play his guitar for her. She loved it when he played his guitar. Made him even sexier, if that were possible.

She found him on the couch but as he looked up she could tell something was wrong. He looked sad and worried. She didn't know why she thought of their first "date" when she saw his expression, but it made her shiver.

"Owen. Tell me."

Owen wordlessly handed her the half-crumpled letter. She didn't want to read the rest after she saw the U.S. Army header but she continued.

It took Cristina a minute to speak. "Owen they can't do this." [fn1]

"I'm afraid they can."

"But it doesn't make any sense. You did three tours . . ."

"I didn't finish my last one."

"Because you were almost blown into a million pieces. Because all of your friends were killed. Because it almost ruined your life." Cristina was angry now. "You were discharged . . ."

"I guess they figured I'm better now, running a Level 1 trauma department . . ."

"What are they fucking thinking? We can fight this. I'll march up the steps of the goddamn Supreme Court . . ."

"Cristina," Owen's voice was low.

"You want to go?" Cristina was incredulous. And pissed.

"No, I don't want to go. The last thing in the world I want to do is leave you. The thought of it is killing me. But saying no really isn't an option. And they need me."

Cristina snorted with disgust. "They almost got every last bit of you. What you are now is what we built together – they don't get what we built."

" I don't mean the Army, I mean the guys. The guys like Arizona's brother who didn't make it because there weren't enough people who know what I know."

"But it's Afghanistan this time. What if your Iraq experience isn't applicable?" Cristina could tell she wasn't going to win this one.

"It's not a full tour. Just 3 months. Just until I can train enough people , maybe just enough so a few more people get to come home." Owen looked at Cristina. "I'll be careful. I won't be on the forward surgical teams," he offered. "I have too much to lose now."

"Goddamn motherfuckin' shit."

"Yeah." Owen pulled Cristina close, stroking her hair. He could feel the fight start to go out of her, which worried him more.

Cristina felt so safe in his arms. She was tough but had come to rely on the absolute confidence and stability she felt with him. What was she going to do for the next 3 months? Dammit, they were happy: they had gotten through the worst of his PTSD, they had gotten through her terrible breakdown, they had even gotten through that whole silly PTSD induced mess with Teddy. Cristina always knew Owen loved her completely – why had she ever let herself doubt him? Why had she wasted even a second anywhere else but right here?

They stood there wordlessly for awhile. "Owen?"

"Yes?"

"I had been looking forward to a little guitar tonight."

Owen dared a small chuckle. "Then you're in luck. I've learned the Cee-Lo song. You are free to sing the original lyrics in our own home."

"I think I have some special hand gestures to go with my dancing for that one," Cristina replied.

Shit. The next 3 months had better go by quickly.

FN1: Please forgive the great liberties I have taken with the facts with respect to the Army's policy. The stop-loss policy was discontinued in 2009. I don't know whether it ever applied to medical units. I highly doubt it ever applied to discharged PTSD sufferers.