Cristina walked into the hospital, elated, on Monday morning. With memories of the vent flowing through her head, she couldn't help but smile as she entered the elevator. She stepped onto the surgical floor of the hospital and felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that came with every new day of cutting open bodies. This was what she lived for, but today she found that it was nothing in comparison to the sensation that was Owen Hunt. His lips, his hands, his eyes, even his simple presence sent her head spinning. She scoured the sea of blue scrubs hoping to see the familiar flash of bright orange hair, hoping to finish what he had started in the vent before she got paged, but not luck. Instead George popped up beside her.

"Hey, do you remember Mr. Henry, with the brain aneurysm?"

Of course she remembered hum. Lucas Henry, 42, minor aneurysm in the lower cortex. It was Mr. Henry's unfortunate case that had taken Cristina away from Owens adventurous tongue. "Yeah, I remember him. Why?"

"Well there were complications with his surgery and Sheperd assigned you to monitor him today."

"Great. Thanks." Cristina said dismissively. She was still pre-occupied, scanning the floor, hoping that a pair of intense blue eyes would connect with hers. Hoping that those eyes would follow her into the nearest on-call room and watch as she pulled off her scrubs to reveal the black lace panties she'd adorned this morning, and then watch as she ran her hands up his chest and into his orange hair and-

"Cristina?" George's voice broke into her thoughts, shattering that particular fantasy forever.

"What?" She demanded. Her voice was harsher than she expected. "Sorry." She tried again. "What?"

"Your patient- Mr. Henry- his stats are all over the place, he hasn't been stable since the operation."

"So?"

George rolled his eyes impatiently. "So, if his condition doesn't improve, which it won't, you're scrubbing in with Sheperd. You're going to be operating on a brain while I'm doing freaking stitches in trauma."

Cristina snapped to attention "Trauma? With Dr. Hunt?"

"Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it," George said sarcastically, "maybe if there aren't any patients I can operate on a cow." He joked. Cristina didn't laugh.

"I'll trade you." Cristina tried not to sound too desperate. "You can do the whole neuro-thing and I'll handle the bloody, gross trauma."

"You want to work trauma? You want to do a million non-surgical, time-wasters with G. I. Joe?" Cristina nodded. "Alright…" Cristina knew George wasn't dumb enough to pass up possible surgeries, but even so, she was still just as surprised and thrilled when he agreed.

"Ok." She tried to keep her voice even. "I'll see you at lunch then."

Owen was awaiting an ambulance when Cristina walked up beside him. He did a double take when he realized that the doctor with him was not, in fact, the resident he had requested.

"Dr. Hunt." Cristina greeted him politely as a small, knowing smile played across her irresistible lips. Owen wished that she wouldn't look at him that was at work. As though she'd tasted his hungry lips on hers and felt his hands slide greddily up her perfectly arched back. He was trying the best he could to be professional, but she was making it nearly impossible. He sighed.

"Dr. Yang. Where's O'Malley?"

"Oh, he switched with me. My neuro-case for trauma."

"You traded a brain surgery for my trauma room?" Owen never imagined Cristina would give up the scalpel for a man and for a second he hoped that maybe there was some other reason-

"I thought it would be more fun to try my luck with Dr. Owen Hunt." The way she said his name made Owen shiver. Everything about Cristina Yang was intoxicating. Owen wasn't one for drugs, but he could easily see himself becoming uncontrollably addicted to the woman beside him. He just wasn't sure if it was healthy or not.

"Meet me in the on-call room after this guy." Owen shouted to make himself heard over the approaching ambulance.

Cristina smiled. She had definitely heard his plans and her mind had already begun planning. It was the next thing Owen said that was drowned out by the siren.

"We need to talk."