A/N: An extension of the final 20 seconds of 3.04 on Burke & Cristina. I don't own any of the characters, but I own my raspberry chicken recipe…

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He smiled with confidence. She reflected that back to him with a smile of contentment.

Burke was making her dinner. Cristina never told anyone how she had always wanted a man who could cook, especially when this man was Preston Burke, the renowned surgeon.

Her boyfriend was a surgeon. The surgeon was her boyfriend. Shifting the two nouns back and forth as she walked towards the bedroom, a chill suddenly ran through her spine as she turned back.

The last thing she expected was an unequally confused look in Burke's eyes.

"It'll be a while before dinner's ready." Although spoken casually, Burke was clearly trying to downplay his preoccupation—but about what?

"Ok."

Instead of heading back to the bedroom, Cristina walked towards the fridge. Exhausted as she was, somehow she felt glued to the kitchen the same way she felt compelled to stay at the morgue earlier that afternoon.

"What recipe are you using?" Cristina asked as she poured orange juice into Burke's mug.

"Can't tell. I improvise."

"Well, I have complete trust on the chicken chef."

"You're calling me names."

"You don't like that?" Cristina smirked. "How about chicken…"

"George."

"What? Do you miss Bambi so much that you've to call out his name out of the blue?"

"Chicken George. He's a famous character in a TV show."

Standing by him at the counter and holding his cup to his lips, Cristina asked, "Seriously? You actually watched TV as a kid!"

"What else do you think I would be doing? Suturing chickens?"

Burke continued to marinate the chicken as Cristina looked down and took a sip from his mug.

"I thought you're the kid who's always hiding in the library or the lab."

"Well, I did… but…"

"So you're the nerd who watches TV but doesn't know who Madonna is," Cristina blinked.

"Cristina, sometimes I'm really impressed by your sarcasm."

Burke sprinkled more herbs on top of the chicken in silence.

"Hey! You're not mad at me again, are you?"

Pushing the tray into the oven, Burke was surprised by the sign of panic over Cristina's face.

"What if I am?"

"You can't be," Cristina protested.

"Why not?"

"All the nerdy guys I know are soft and mellow."

"I didn't realize you have a thing for nerds, Cristina." Burke raised his brows.

"That isn't what I mean, Burke!"

Taking off his apron, Burke began scrubbing the grease off his hands. "I'll never know what you mean if you don't tell me."

"Well, you're different," Cristina licked her lips with some anxiety, "You know—"

"Because I was the best cardiothoracic surgeon in the country."

"Burke…"

"That's who I was. That's what you care about."

"You know it's not true."

Burke was not sure if he could take her word for it as he searched through the determined features on her face.

"Forget it, Cristina. When I'm not a surgeon, I'm just like any one of them."

Cristina wondered how many more times they had to go over the same conversation but she couldn't stop herself from blurting something out.

"You're different," Cristina shot a glance at him before shifting her focus to the kitchen tiles, "You're not the same because you cook, you bring me coffee, and there's no one else…no one else who has caused so much trouble in my life."

Every single word Cristina uttered was genuine, but she could not deny she did constantly think about Burke's identity as a surgeon—she knew it was important to him and she wanted him to be happy again. That's why she cared.

Burke brushed his forehead with his finger before resting his hands on the back of his waist. The mixed message by Cristina confused him.

"There'll be more trouble ahead, Cristina."

Not giving him another chance to send her away, Cristina smoothed out the edge created by his pointed elbows by wrapping her arms around his from behind, tightly. Resting her head on his broad and sturdy back, Cristina could feel his heartbeat. She didn't care if he would understand her, because sometimes she also didn't understand herself.

"I'm not going to leave."

Burke did not turn back to look. He just stood there, feeling the gentle pressure on his back. He was not sure if he understood what she meant, but he could feel how their heart beat began to synchronize.

"The raspberry chicken is ready."

Cristina smiled.