A/N So, we had the angst last chapter, I thought it was time for a little fun this time around. Enjoy!
Chapter Two: Willing to Give it a Try
"If I kept the liquor cabinet well-stocked, would you come home sooner?" came a familiar voice. Cristina didn't need to turn her head to know that Burke was sitting down beside her. She sensed him shrug off his jacket. Don't look at him she commanded herself. That's what he wants. To melt your resolve. To make you follow him even further down this ridiculous road called love.
"Depends. What sort are we talking?"
"Beer, or course. Also vodka, and an increasing fondness for tequila, which seems to be the byproduct of being best friends with Meredith Grey."
His keen observance was what made him such a talented surgeon. As well as an appealing boyfriend, and lover. Cristina mused on the fact that he barely ever came into Joe's. He went home and played trumpet. He cooked. He watched C-SPAN, and read Proust and Capote, but he didn't down a beer with buddies at Joe's. That was her thing.
Burke signaled for Joe, and ordered bourbon. "I just spent the last two hours listening to a Bon Jovi album. And I will never get those two hours of my life back."
Cristina grinned reluctantly, at the thought of Burke listening to her favourite 80s band. He was a jazz man, a classical man. Not a rock man.
"Why would you want those two hours back?"
"I appreciate musicianship, not men with mullets in tight leather pants, obsessed with characters called Tommy and Gina, who seem to make their way into every song."
"God, you were listening hard. Their lyrics mean something, you know."
"You'll have to explain that one to me," he said, leaning in towards her, as the noise in Joe's turned up a notch. As the bar bustled around them, Cristina watched Burke sip on his bourbon.
"'Living on a prayer?' It's a song about trusting, about taking a leap of faith. That's something we do in the O.R every day."
"And can you do that with me?" he asked, not missing a beat.
Cristina hesitantly met his eyes. They were dark, serious, boring into her at that moment. Seeing straight through her. She settled her gaze on his hands, grasping his bourbon glass. They seemed like a safer place. Seeing his familiar strong grip, she unwound a little. Reaching out to nudge his fingers, they slowly entwined with hers. "Let's go home."
She knew Burke assumed they'd be heading straight to bed – she'd been that tired lately. So when she grinned at him expectantly, he raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What?"
"Want to play a game?"
He eyed her. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
She grinned, and momentarily disappeared around the corner. Burke shrugged to himself, and sat down on the couch, leaning back and closing his eyes. She soon interrupted his reverie.
"Explain to me again why we're doing this?" he grumbled ten minutes later.
"It's a particular pastime of Izzie's, and I thought it sounded like fun."
"Of course you did. This from the girl who likes strip poker."
"This from the guy who's too chicken to play against me, because he knows he'll lose." She furrowed her brow in concentration for a moment, then laid out the word 'doggy', on the board.
Burke failed miserably at suppressing a smile. She knew exactly what was going on in his head at that moment. "What fond memories you'll have of your first year internship," he commented, as he pondered his next move in their 'dirty scrabble' game.
She snorted. "Oh yeah, real fond. The first time we tried that particular position in an on-call room, Bailey came banging on the door when I wasn't answering my pager."
"Well, lucky I answered the door with my best 'angry boss' face on. Ah. Inspiration strikes." Burke lay out the word 'banging,' and Cristina burst out laughing. "Preston Burke, top of your class, top of your field, and that's the best you can come up with?"
"I used all of my letters, Dr. Yang. I haven't seen you do the same."
"You know better than to challenge me, Dr. Burke."
"Oh I do, do I? I think we should up the stakes a little."
"Bring it on."
"The highest point scorer at the conclusion of the game gets to do whatever they want to the other person tonight, for however long they want."
"Oh, you are going to be tired tomorrow, aren't you Preston?"
"And," he continued, leaning back and folding his hands together. "Whenever a spare moment arises for the both of us tomorrow, the loser will answer the winner's page, and this will continue in an on-call room."
With steely determination, Cristina lay out 'straddle' over a double word score. "Make sure your pager has a fresh battery tomorrow," she said with a smug grin.
Two of Seattle's most brilliant minds were engaged in an hour long battle of wits and intelligence that night. Not for the purpose of saving lives, or performing a difficult surgery. This time, it was just for love.
And triumph, Cristina added to herself, as she eyed off her lover. He'd need a killer word to beat her. But still, she had to admit, it was possible he would.
His face was impassive as he surveyed the board, and his letters.
He cleared his throat. "And, for his final move…" he swiftly gathered up his letters, and lay them with precision on the board. Cristina felt her jaw drop as he lay the word 'climax' across a triple word score. "That x is really going to help," he said with a grin, and tallied his score.
'The verdict is in!" he announced. "You lost by four, Yang."
"Congratulations," she grumbled.
He smirked. "Go get into that purple negligee of yours."
Rolling her eyes, she left the room wordlessly. She hated losing. Despised it. It was another thing out of her control.
Still, she mused as she changed in the bathroom, it wasn't such a bad fate that awaited her…
"Good morning!" Izzie chirped the next morning as she strode into the locker room.
"I hate you," Cristina shot back venomously, from where she was laying flat on her back on the floor, hands covering her eyes.
"Why are you in such a cheerful mood this morning?"
"Trust me, you don't want to know," Meredith answered. She was still having trouble with the image of Burke the sexual predator, and didn't want to hear the story again. Still, she figured that was the last time Cristina would heed an idea of Izzie's for a while.
"I'm wrecked," George announced, yawning as he entered the locker room. "I only got three hours sleep in the on-call room last night."
Cristina rolled her eyes, and sat up as Bailey came in. She'd had 67 minutes sleep last night. She'd timed it.
"Are we all here? Good. Get off the floor, Yang. O'Malley, you're down in the pit. The rest of you, come with me."
The day started at its usual explosive pace. They managed to avoid running into gurneys and other staff members as they followed Bailey's brisk pace into the first patient's room. Bailey exchanged a few words with the patient, one middle-aged Greg Simmons, when Burke strode into the room. Cristina glowered at him, and though his face betrayed no emotion, his eyes were laughing at her.
"Whose presenting?" Bailey asked, looking between Cristina and Alex, knowing they'd both examined his chart.
Cristina let Alex jump in. No way was she spending the day basking in his arrogance. "Grey Simons, 52, came in last night having suffered a mild heart attack…"
Cristina kept her eyes firmly downward, and was relieved when she continued on her way with Bailey.
"Grey, you're with Shepherd. Stevens and Yang, come with me."
She spent the morning wheeling around a whiny pre-pubescent girl for tests. She kept moving in the tube, and they had to do her CAT scan three times. And Izzie abandoned her midmorning to go and check on Denny, so she was going it alone.
At lunch, Cristina collapsed beside Meredith. "I hate kids."
"Amen to that."
"Tell me your morning was sucky."
"I was in on a craniotomy."
Cristina glowered, shoving handfuls of potato chips in her mouth. "I hate you!"
"Thank you."
"But I hate Burke more. Smug bastard. What if they put me on call tonight, huh? I'll be a walking zombie."
At that precise moment, her pager went off, and she groaned in frustration. She almost seethed when she saw who it was. "Never," she emphasized the word, "let me listen to Isobel Stevens again."
A/N Thanks to everyone who's already reviewed! I'll shamelessly ask that you keep them coming, because every writer loves them, whether they're good or bad.
For anyone that's interested, I've taken the title and some of the chapter names from the song You Give me Something by James Morrison. I thought it applied well to Burke and Cristina. Full of good angst.