Title: Dream a little fantasy of me

Author: VoodooLilly

Pairing: Cristina/Owen

Rating: R-ish

Disclaimer: I only wished I owned Grey's Anatomy, Kevin Mckidd and army of evil minions to do my bidding. Since I own none of these things, don't sue.

A/N: This is my first fanfic, a little two part one-shot based on that uber hot kiss between Yang and Hunt in the procedure room during the season premier. Please be gentle in your reviews, my tender ego responds best to helpful criticism and cookies.

So?

It was taunting her, he was taunting her, daring her really. Bastard. An amazingly talented, marginally sexy, fabulous kisser, but still a bastard.

Meredith had left hours ago and she had twenty four hours of uninterrupted bed rest ahead of her before she had to report back to the hospital. It was hell, nothing to do but rest, and remember one unspeakably hot kiss. Yang flopped back in her bed and winced as his tiny, neat stitches pulled on her abdomen. Idly she pulled up the hem of her tank top and admired them for probably the hundredth time.

Watching his sure hands suture her injury had been hot. Hell, just watching him move had made her feel all warm and tingly even on top of the morphine. Dr. Owen Hunt, Army Guy and trauma surgeon extraordinaire. He was going to be a problem she just knew it.

Her fingertips lightly traced the stitches as she thought about that torrid kiss he'd laid on her in the procedure room. Unconsciously she bit her lip, closed her eyes and remembered the feel of his lips on hers. Damn, but she secretly liked it when a man just took charge like that, even as she'd protested that she didn't know him. It had been months since she'd felt anything remotely resembling desire. Not since- no, that wasn't going to be her anymore, boo-hooing about Preston. Then today, out of the blue, Army Guy swoops into the picture having traeched a guy with a ballpoint pen, then stapling that gash in his admittedly fine ass… McBadass…yeah, he had totally woken up her desire.

So?

He was still a bastard.

But the man could kiss.

Pre-Burke she would have closed the blinds herself, ridden him until they both passed out. With her wound, she just may have. But Burke was still a fresh scar on her psyche and she was drowning in limbo. Unlike Meredith, Cristina didn't intend to die, figuratively speaking. No, getting involved with McBadass was trouble, even if he did make her feel alive again.

"Oh just shut up! You sound like Mer now, waffling between decisions!" She snapped out loud, consciously pulling her hand away from Hunt's tiny, sexy stitches. "See, that crap right there has to stop. He is not sexy, and his stitches aren't either! Seriously, I need a Psych consult, talking to myself and fondling a hot doctor's stitches." She forced her hands to lie limply at her side, away from the cut.

He was sexy though, and talented. The way he watched her watching him, how he just stepped into a strange hospital and took over like he owned the place. How he could admit failure and move on from it.

So?

Her left hand slipped back to the scar, tracing it lightly. Cristina closed her eyes, a bemused little smile on her lips as her other hand slid between her thighs. She wouldn't get involved with him, or go find out where he was staying tonight. No, but she could think about it.