Author: Yentruoc

Rating: T, I guess. A bit suggestive, but not more so than the show.

Summary: Extended scene from episode 5.01, leading up to the stapling moment.

Disclaimer: The characters and the storyline belong Shonda and co. I am merely borrowing for amusement. :) Some lines are taken straight from the show, as I've just extended to what could have happened that we didn't get to see.

***

"We're closing up your leg now."

Cristina led him down the halls and to an empty exam room, her hand lingered perhaps a beat too long on his shoulder she felt a flutter deep in her stomach. Major Owen Hunt; she liked the sound of him, liked the look of him even more. He limped passed her into the room onto the opposite side of the gurney in the room's center, catching her eye with a sly smile. Cristina closed the door behind them, keeping her back to him for an extra moment to grab a steadying breath. She was a professional; the best, the brightest in her program, she could surely handle keeping to these rules as she stitched up his thigh.

Cristina turned, and once again her breath caught in her throat as she found him undoing the fly of his pants, his shirt already quickly removed and slung over a nearby chair. The only thing better than this man in uniform, she was eager to find out, was this man half out of one. He caught her eye for another quick second as he let his pants pool around his ankles, snapping her back to reality. Professional, Cristina Yang was a professional. She stepped closer to his side of the room feeling his eyes on her as she collected supplies.

"Staples will be fine," his voice was low, gravelly, and she could hear his slight smile again in his tone; looked up to catch a quick glimpse of it. Their eyes locked a minute before he looked down, "I've had worse damage," his hand gestured to the wound on his thigh, a jagged cut that curved from beneath his green boxer briefs up to his firm buttocks. The smile still played on his lips and she knew that he had read her attraction, just as she was clearly reading his for herself.

Cristina cleared her throat before she spoke, smiling despite herself, "Alright then, Major Hunt," she sat down on the stool she had placed beside him, pulling her tray of supplies with her as she approached. She had the swab in her hand, which brushed against his as he lifted the seam of his underwear to allow her better access to the injury.

Cristina gulped at the view, the contact, and the sound of his voice as he spoke, "It's Owen, Dr. Yang." She looked up, and there was that smug smile again, which she couldn't help but return.

"It's Cristina," she looked back down at his leg, beginning to clean the wound as she grinned, pursing her lips together in dim attempt to hide the flirtation. She could feel his eyes on her as she gently, thoroughly cleaned the area, trying to keep her mind occupied on the cut rather than the firm expanse of surrounding skin.

Owen's eyes swept over her form in silence, capturing her wild black curls and deft fingers at work on his tingling flesh as if he was committing them to memory. "Okay," Cristina mumbled as she finished cleaning the area, standing up as she abandons the swab on her tray. Her back is to him as she fumbles for something, and Owen looks down at the tray before him and the stapler already waiting for use.

He doesn't know what makes him wrap his fingers around the sleek tool, makes him check that it has been filled. It may be the impatience he's acquired over the years, or the feeling of obligation to check on his patients left with doctors unknown to him. Owen thinks, rather, it has something more to do with the petite surgeon he shares the room with, and a deep desire he has to pull at least one more smile from her. In his line of work Owen is no stranger to pain, therefore the feel of the first staple going in with a slight grunt is only small shock to him.

"I'm gonna numb…" Cristina's voice trailed off as she catches sight of him, this already impossibly masculine man stapling his own wound before her, and for a moment she can hear her heart pounding loudly within her chest, arousal hitting along with surprise. "Wow! Uh, you're not numbed!" Cristina's eyes bug out as she stared at him; her breath catches yet again as he looks up at her.

"So?" His reply is simple, flippant, before he goes back to the task at hand, grunting softly as he embeds each staple within his own skin.

"So…ow!" Cristina's at a loss for clear words as she stares at him, wincing at the sight and his grunts, "Ss..Uh…ow!"

Owen looked up at her, reaching out his hand and the stapler, "I can't get an angle on these could you..?" It wasn't quite a lie, for it would be much easier for a separate set of hands to finish patching him up than his own. However, had it been anyone else in the room with him Owen most likely would have made due just fine. He waits with his arm outstretched as she looks down with a smile, a slight shake of head, and a chuckle.

"Okay," Cristina laughed as she emptied her hands and turns to grab the stapler from him, sitting before him on the stool once more as she braced one hand on his hard hip and leans forward with the tool in the other. She places the stapler, pulls the handle, and pauses as she once again hears a slight reaction of pain from him. Cristina looked back up at Owen with wide eyes, searching his face for permission to continue. He meets her eyes again, attempting a slight grin through gritted teeth as he nods at her in approval.

Cristina places one more staple with a smile, she savors causing another grunt to slip past his own curved mouth, and pulls the tool away at the sound of his voice, "Thank you". His words came out deep and breathy and he smiles through gritted teeth, his grin widening as the pain subsides. She keeps her gloved and on him for a few seconds longer as she sits back for a moment to both admire both him and their work.

Owens eyes stare down at her smile, watch her rise to her feet before she speaks, "Don't mention it." Their eyes meet, hold as she stands before him, small smiles still playing across both pairs of lips. His glare is hot, intense, and Cristina doesn't look away as the flutter hits lower in her stomach.

They're standing close enough to touch, close enough to feel the light warmth of each other's heavy breathing as they're eyes take each other in. Swept up in the other's presence, they fail to notice the sound of the door flying open, footsteps approaching. "Can I ask you something?" Callie's voice shakes them both out of their reverie.

Cristina turns to the sudden intruder, stumbling "Uh, uh, what?" Callie's eyes shift between the two, realization dawning on her that she's interrupted a seemingly private moment, and silently plans to ask Cristina about it later.

"Him, actually."

"Oh, uh," Cristina answers, as they unwillingly pull themselves out of their trance. "Yeah, sure I've got surgery, and uh," she turns back to face Owen, stapler now replaced with a syringe in her hand as she continues with a smile and heavy gaze, "Poke yourself."

Cristina doesn't need to turn around to know that his eyes are glued on her as she makes her way out of the door. She still tempts to look over at him, to catch one more glimpse of his cocky smirk while she has the chance; Cristina resists the urge. Callie's words to Owen seem to grow quieter as she strides down the hallway to surgery, the slight smile still playing across Cristina's lips. After all, maybe her roommate's request could have this mysterious army man sticking around a bit longer? At least until she had left the OR? Never the optimist, she let the thought slip from her with a sigh as she reached the scrub room. Professional, Cristina Yang was a professional.

***