A/N: This was written for the greys(underscore)exchange hiatus fic challenge on livejournal. The third pairing request was for George/Cristina and was accompanied by a triple-dog dare so I just couldn't resist. To avoid any confusion, this is set just after the first season finale. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy nor the characters/plot are mine. I'm not Shonda Rhimes, and I'm not making any money off of this.

"You don't hug."
"Hey, I give out two or three a year."
- The Class (ep. 1x17)

Once or Twice A Year

Cristina's small form blocking his path was oddly intimidating, and he settled for shooting Alex his best glare over her shoulder. He could hear her say something that may or may not have been directed at him, but he wasn't paying attention.

"George. George!"

He heard her then, but he was still focused on Alex, who was obviously being harshly chastised by the other women.

"Hey, Bambi, look at me!"

The obnoxious nickname caught his interest and he pulled his gaze away.

"What the hell were you doing, George? Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

"He- He gave me syphilis!"

"He's twice your size!"

George glanced back at Alex for a quick moment before replying in a pretty feeble sounding voice. "No he's not."

She sighed and grabbed him by his upper arm. "Come on."

He didn't move, more preoccupied with glaring at Alex again. Cristina tugged and he stumbled backwards a step or two. After regaining his balance, he reluctantly let her lead him out of the locker room, but not before catching Olivia's apologetic gaze. He only offered up a noncommittal shrug as the door swung shut behind him.

George followed Cristina through the Seattle Grace halls until she stopped at a door he'd never stepped through before. Holding the door open, she gave him a look like she expected him to enter.

"Cristina, that's the ladies' room."

She scoffed at him. "We need to clean up your hand."

George looked down to examine his fingers, and realized for the first time since his fist had collided with Alex's face that they were in pain. A lot of pain. "I'm bleeding."

"I know. Get in here."

He took a step forward before stopping again. "It's, you know, empty, right?"

Cristina gave an exasperated sigh. "For God's sake!" She stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the bathroom with quite a bit more strength than was necessary.

"Ow!" The second she'd yanked him across the threshold, he wrenched his hand out of her grasp. "Are you trying to pull it off?"

She just shook her head as she turned on one of the faucets. "Oh, don't be such a wimp, George."

"Hey, I just took down Alex Karev."

"And then complained when a girl grabbed your hand too hard."

"My injured hand. That wins me back a few points, doesn't it?"

"No." She ran a paper towel under the water for a quick moment. "Give me your hand."

"Alright. Just don't- Ow!"

"Sorry," Cristina told him, dabbing at his knuckles with the makeshift washcloth.

He wasn't sure, but he thought he may have been the first person to get a nearly-sincere apology from Cristina Yang. The thought made him smile just a little.

"What're you grinning about, Bambi?"

His smile faded into a smirk, if only for a short second. "You apologized."

"I was being sarcastic."

"I don't think you were."

Cristina tossed the damp paper towel into the garbage can, grabbing a new, dry one from the dispenser. "Well, I was." She started to dry off his injury a little forcefully, and he flinched.

"Hey, easy on the hand, alright? I need these."

"You sure about that, 007?" She shot back at him, discarding the dry paper towel.

"Come on, I thought we were past that!"

"Oh, we'll never be past it. Believe me." She grabbed his wrist – the uninjured one this time – and led him a little less vigorously from the bathroom. "Let's go. You need some ice."

"I don't need-"

"Shut up, George."

He looked at down at his hand, her small fingers barely able to encircle his wrist completely. "Okay."

And to his surprise, she didn't let go until they'd reached the E.R., where she shoved him into a chair and ordered him to stay put. He watched as she looked around the chaotic space before spotting an obviously new and terrified nurse. "You!" The young woman rushed over to her, shaking and staring at her toes. "Get me an ice pack." Nodding, the woman moved away. "Now!" Cristina called after her, and she jumped, hurrying off down the hallway.

"I think you've scarred her for life, Cristina."

Smirking, she took the seat next to him. "I see why Bailey likes it so much. It's kind of fun."

George only shook his head. "You're horrible."

"You know you love it."

He rolled his eyes just as the nurse came running back in, nearly tripping over her own feet as she slid to a stop in front of Cristina, an ice pack in her trembling, outstretched hands. Cristina grabbed it without a word, but George offered up the most gracious "Thank you" he could as the woman shuffled away.

Cristina handed the ice pack to her fellow intern, who set it gingerly on his knuckles with a hiss of pain. It was Cristina's turn to shake her head. "I wouldn't go roughing up your hands anymore, George." Her voice was oddly soft, and she reached over and adjusted the ice, running her fingers gently over his injured hand so quickly he wasn't even sure if it'd really happened. "Don't want to ruin your chance to be a hot-shot surgeon."

He cocked his head at her, raising an eyebrow. "Five minutes ago I was 007. Now I'm a hot-shot surgeon?" There was a pause as George contemplated this. "Are you sick or something?"

She scoffed at him again. "Hey, I'm only nice once or twice a year, Bambi." The regular Cristina harshness was back, and he smiled. For a second, he thought she did too, but before he could tell, she was on her feet. "Come on, let's get a drink."

George hurried to stand and follow, as she was already on the move. He left the ice pack discarded on the stiff-backed chair as he jogged up to her side just before she made her way out into the parking lot.

She turned to look at him as he caught up with her. "You're buying though, right? You know, to celebrate finally proving you're not a wimpy little schoolboy."

They reached the bar entrance, and George chivalrously held the door open for her. "Does this mean you're finally gonna stop calling me Bambi?"

Cristina laughed as she passed by him. "Not a chance, George. Not a chance."

End