A/N: So, this is what happens after he says "I think you're beautiful". Or at least what happens in my mind ;)
On The Steps
She had no idea what she was doing. First he had pushed her against that wall outside of Joe's and fused his mouth to hers. Then he had treated her with indifference. And now, he was sitting outside her apartment, turning down an invitation up because it was not appropriate. Yet, here she was, wanting to be nowhere else than beside him on those steps.
Appropriate, she hated that word.
Nothing between them was appropriate. It wasn't appropriate when he treated her roughly at work. It wasn't appropriate when he had her back pressed against a wall. And it sure as hell wasn't appropriate for him to wait for her outside her apartment. For all his efforts to be so damn appropriate, he was failing miserably.
"I think you're beautiful."
She turned her head toward him, her gaze softening. She didn't understand him. This man was far more complicated than anyone that she had dealt with. He was darker and twister than her, than Meredith. But, hell, he made her feel. He made her insides twist and pull, and she hadn't felt that way in a long time.
"Would it be appropriate for us to grab some coffee?" she asked.
The lines beside his mouth deepened as he frowned. "Not really."
"What if we discussed cases?"
His features softened as he smiled slightly and answered, "The answer is still probably no."
"So what, we just sit here?" To be honest, she wasn't entirely against that. She liked the feel of him beside her. He was sturdy and solid, so much so that her palms itched to touch him. Her words seemed to bring him back to his senses, though, because he exhaled loudly and muttered, "I should go."
"No," she said immediately, a knee jerk response to her desire for him to stay. He looked down at her, alarmed by her strong reaction. His jaw tensed and he stared at the pavement as he bit out, "I'm not usually like this. I'm very good at separating work and everything else."
She had never attempted to separate the two, so she couldn't understand. Work and personal life had always been intertwined. Colin Marlowe, Burke, there had been no separation. There had never been a reason to.
"We can just be friends," she offered. His eyes stayed trained on the pavement and she understood the implicit response. He wanted more; she did, too. Where else could they go from this impasse, though?
"Sure," he replied after a moment, his voice devoid of emotion. "Friends."
They weren't getting anywhere. That much was clear, and the longer they sat the more it hurt. "Well, I'm going to head in," she said, standing up. She wiped the back of her jeans off casually and asked, "You sure you don't want to come in?"
He stood up. "Yeah, I should be getting home."
"Alright, well, see you tomorrow."
She turned away from him, gathering her hair into a high bun as she walked over to the door. She fumbled with her key, wanting to turn but afraid that he would already be gone. She hadn't heard him leave but the ringing in her ears was so loud that she could have missed his retreat. Her key finally slipped into the hole and as she turned it she heard definite movement behind her.
Guess he's leaving now, she thought.
She braved one last look behind her and gasped when she found him climbing the steps up toward her. Her eyes widened as he took a hold of her waist, but her arms slid around his neck without hesitation. Their mouths met and he crushed her against him, moving one hand up to cradle her cheek.
It probably was not the greatest idea to make out with Owen Hunt in front of her apartment, but Cristina couldn't find one valid reason to stop. There was something thrilling about kissing him in plain sight. She had felt the same jolt of electricity outside Joe's, but this felt even stronger without the taste of alcohol on their lips.
And the man could kiss. It had kept her awake at night ever since that damned icicle, and her memory had served her correctly. His tongue slid along her own and his stubble rubbed almost painfully against her delicate skin. He would leave a mark, she thought. But who was she kidding? He already had.
He pulled away first, breathing ragged. His eyes were hooded with the same bottomless lust that had bloomed in the bottom of her belly, but there was something else. Resistance. Regret. She could read it all over his face; it was his turn to walk away.
And she would let him. This was their game, she supposed. Both lashed out recklessly until one left in a hurry, tail between their legs. The struggle read plainly on his face, and she let him off easy by turning without a word, returning her hand to the key and unlocking the door. She stepped in and her body angled toward him as she carefully closed it. Their eyes met once before the door separated them.
She laid one hand on the door, knowing full well that he was still there. She shook her head slightly and murmured, "What are we doing?"
A/N: Hope you enjoyed yet another scene of C/O face-eating. lol Because that is totally how I was envisioning that kiss. Oh yeah ;-)
Please leave feedback! I am considering continuing this. It would have the main events of the season with my own little add-ins. Let me know if you'd be interested!