Disclaimer:
I do not own the rights to the characters used. This fanfic is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of anyone.
Author's note: I'm still trying to find a rhythm with this story, so thanks to all of you who are sticking it out. Luckily they'll be back at the hospital soon, for some ensemble interations.
"I thought you said it was a romantic weekend getaway?" Meredith sounded perturbed. "What kind of boy thinks a romantic weekend getaway involves his sister and her three kids? I can picture Derek doing something like this to me, because we're getting married. But Owen's got some huge balls to do it to you."
Cristina smiled. Of course Meredith would understand. There was a reason she was her person. Your person always understands when your weekend getaway turns into a romp through the eighth circle of hell. "They weren't supposed to be here," Cristina said, sighing and looking back toward the house for the hundredth time, making sure she was alone. "They weren't supposed to be using the house but his sister forgot she told Owen he could use it this weekend. So we got here last night and they were already here. Everyone except her husband, who is away on business."
"Isn't there a hotel in the area? A bed and breakfast or something?"
Cristina felt herself clutching the phone tighter. "Yes. Yes, there is. And Owen looked at me and said, 'do you want to go somewhere else?' in that way that let me know exactly what the right answer is, and 'yes, anywhere but here, please' is not the right answer."
"Ouch."
"And now he's talking about babies," Cristina hissed.
"Babies?"
Cristina sighed. "More like pregnancy. He's fantasizing about getting me pregnant." She paused. She'd been okay with it at first, when her senses were overloaded with him. But now…now, she was not okay. "It's creepy. Who does that?"
Meredith sounded forlorn. "He spooked the horse. That's too bad, he was doing so well…taking baby-steps-- no pun intended. Then you leave Seattle for a weekend. He might as well give you a ring and ask you to marry him while he's at it. Get it all out in the open."
"Did you just call me a horse?"
"So my analogy needs a little work, but you do sound pretty freaked out."
"I am freaked out, Mere. Wouldn't you be freaked out?"
"Depends. Is he thinking about babies, or does he just want you pregnant?"
"Is one better than the other?"
"One is kind of weirder than the other. Maybe it's just a sex fantasy, like sometimes Derek li—"
"Stop. No. No Derek sex fantasies. This is a bad enough day. I mean, I had sex with him. He as much as told me he wanted me pregnant, and I still had sex with him. It's like he has this crazy power. Like as long as my pants are off he can say whatever he wants and I'll still have sex with him."
Even through the phone, Cristina could tell Meredith was grinning. "See, normally when a trainer spooks the horse, he doesn't get to go for a ride."
"I hate you," Cristina hissed, snapping the phone closed. Against all odds, she felt a slow smile creeping onto her face, which is something only Meredith could have made happen.
Cristina sighed and started walking back toward the house. She'd made it halfway when Owen stepped outside onto the porch, wiping his hands dry with a dishtowel. He looked so domestic. And hot.
"Lunch is almost ready," he called out to her. She nodded, jogging the rest of the way up to the house. He lingered on the porch, waiting for her, a worried expression on his face.
"About earlier--" he started to say.
Cristina held up a hand. "It's okay. Also, we're not talking about it. You promised."
Owen's face fell, a split second of disappointment before he recovered and nodded. "Okay," he said in agreement.
"Are you done on the potty, Aidan? Did you go poop?" Cristina heard Gwen's voice from inside. It was a wonder the boy didn't have a complex. The woman was obsessed with his bowel movements.
"All done, Mama," Aidan's voice, a sweet sing-song, drifted out to them. Cristina smiled and shook her head, took a deep breath, and followed Owen into the house.
"Did you poop or pee?" Gwen asked, eyeing Aidan suspiciously as he pranced into the kitchen in a bath-towel that had been crafted into a cape. It was held in place around his neck by a hair clip.
"Pee!" he said happily, as if the answer would win him a prize.
"Go back in there and poop on the potty."
"I peed!" Aidan said, distressed.
"Aidan, get back in there and go potty."
"I did, I did go potty. I peed on the potty."
"Good boy. Now go poop on the potty," Gwen said, bending over to turn him around and give him a gentle shove toward the restroom. He planted his feet in the ground. "Come on, bug. You haven't pooped yet today."
"I peed! I peed on the potty!" he said again, and the way he kept repeating it had a knot in Cristina's chest. He clearly didn't understand why it wasn't good enough. The constant pressure was making her constipated, and no one was keeping track of her bowel movements.
"Aidan, do you want me to get a diaper for you?"
"No!" he shouted. "No, Mama, I have panties!"
Cristina had to smile at this. He had two sisters who were potty trained, and they wore panties. So when he moved into underwear, there was only one word for the fabric that replaces diapers and pull-ups, and the word was panties. There was no point to suggest otherwise. She knew, because Owen had tried last night to convince Aidan he was wearing "underwear". The effort, though valiant, was doomed for failure. Panties were panties, it seemed.
"Come on, bug. Uncle Owen goes poop on the potty, don't you Uncle Owen?" Gwen said, clearly losing it.
Owen knelt down. "I do. I go poop on the potty. And mommy goes poop on the potty. And Cristina goes poop on the potty."
"Hey!" Cristina said, horrified to be brought into the conversation. Aidan looked up at her, his face impassive before his eyes narrowed. "S'Tina?"
"Yup. Cristina goes poop on the potty," Owen said. He looked back over his shoulder and up at her. "Don't you?"
Cristina scowled, crossed her arms over her chest then, seeing Aidan's face, softened. "Yes," she said grudgingly.
"Come on, let's go sit down. I'll go with you," Owen said, his hand on Aidan's back.
"S'Tina." Aidan said petulantly. "I want S'Tina to read me a book on the potty. I want the train book."
As he ran off toward the room where his books were kept, and Cristina shot Owen a glare while he avoided eye contact and tried his best not to smile. This effort, also valiant, was doomed for failure.
Cristina huffed and moved off to the bathroom, where she took her post sitting on the step-stool next to Aidan's small plastic potty.
Owen marveled at the easy way she took his hand when he reached up for her, and they walked off together. Gwen moved in next to him and they watched them walk together toward the bathroom.
"He's really taken to her," Gwen said, her head cocked to the side as if she was contemplating something. Cristina and Aidan turned a corner and Gwen's eyes swung to Owen. "You look good, Owen. Healthy. And happy."
Owen smiled softly at her and moved back into the kitchen. Gwen followed, reaching for her glass of milk as she watched him peak under the top of the panini grill at how the sandwiches were progressing. "Mom told me you were looking good, but I thought maybe it was wishful thinking, but no—you seem…" she stopped, searching for words. Owen turned away from the applicance and started reaching for glasses and plates. "I think she's finally forgiven you, you know. She's let go of the anger. It's probably easier now, since you're doing better, and she doesn't need the anger to balance her worry."
"Gwen, really. Mom and I are fine. We've been fine. I visit once a week since I told her I came back, and it's been fine," he said, arranging the glasses on the table. He could hear laughter coming from the hall. Ellen and Cora playing some sort of board game.
"Oh, shut up, Owen. It wasn't fine. None of us were fine." There was an edge to her voice, a tremor that accompanied her anger. She was still angry. She hadn't forgiven him. But she'd always been stubborn, always so certain that she knew best.
He stopped what he was doing, turned to look at his sister. She was younger, which was the odd part about her being married with three kids. But then surgical training had a tendency to put entire lives on hold. He might have married Beth years ago if his career hadn't—hadn't what, saved him? That was hardly a fair characterization. Beth just belonged to a different man, an earlier version of himself.
Gwen was still going, her voice low and contolled so they wouldn't be overheard. "No one was fine. Not your relatives. Not your friends. No one was fine while we waited for you to come home. While we stupidly believe that you weren't."
He nodded, understanding dawning on him. She had given him a pass. She had pretended to understand. She had stood up for him, explained his mistakes away, defended his mistakes, even. And every moment had been a lie. She hadn't understood, obviously still didn't. But he was broken in a way that she couldn't heal. And so she'd had to wait, biding her time, until he was healed enough. He was releived by the anger, because it meant she believed he was well, or stable, or happy. Believed he could take it, now. And she made him believe, too. He looked into her eyes, trying to get the message to her without words, but she didn't get the message the way Cristina would have, "I'm sorry, Gwen."
"All done!" Aidan came running into the room, breaking the spell. Gwen breathed in, lifting her eyes to the ceiling and blinking rapidly.
**
"I still can't believe it. We sat there for ten minutes reading that book over and over again, and the minute he gets off the potty he ran into his room and pooped in his pants," Cristina shook her head, pulling the comforter up to her chest. "Unbelievable."
"Yeah, he's pretty stubborn. I just don't think he's interested in the toilet. I don't know why Gwen does this to herself. She should just wait until he's ready," he laid down next to her, book in hand, and propped himself up against the pillows. "It's pretty unlike her to be so impatient."
"Well, he obviously knows when he has to go." Cristina wiggled, trying to settle herself into the pillows before she reached for her book. "He runs off to do it in his room every time. How much longer should she wait? No, you have to push kids, sometimes."
Owen looked sideways at her, a small smile playing at his lips, as if he was privy to a secret she hadn't been told. "You have theories on parenting, now?" he asked teasingly.
Smug bastard, Cristina thought. She sighed, and opened her book in a huff. "Don't think you planted a seed or anything," she said quietly, not looking at him. "I'm not thinking about what you said earlier."
Owen put his own book down, rolled turned into her put himself between her body and her own book. His body pressed against hers, taking her in with his eyes. No flannel pajamas tonight, she wore a dark green camisole with no bra and a pair of his boxers. "Did you say something about planting a seed?" he asked, his voice husky, as he used his stubbled chin to trace a line from her shoulder to her ear.
She swatted at him playfully. "Oh shut up," she said, but found herself smiling, and when he moved his mouth over hers her own lips opened.
Owen pressed his lips aginst hers, keeping the kiss chaste before pulling away and tucking his face into her nape. "I couldn't take my eyes off of you today."
Owen left a line of kisses from her collarbone to just under her ear where he whispered, "I love you."
"I love you, too," she said grudgingly, moving away from him and ducking her head, so that their faces lined up and she was looking in his eyes, willing him to kiss her. He obliged, and the first kiss he placed in her lips was soft and light. The second one was less so. But the third one.--the third one was electrifying. Cristina melted back into the pillows as Owen positioned himself over her.
"I'm glad we came here together, even if it wasn't what we planned," he said. And she smiled at this, not sure if she believed that he hadn't planned it. And if he had, then maybe she couldn't blame him. "I'll be sad to leave tomorrow," he smiled. "But luckily I'll get you away from the competition before he steals you away from me."
Cristina found herself smiling at his teasing. She put one hand on each side of his face and pulled him down for another kiss. For hell, it wasn't such a bad place, this little house by the lake.