A/N: This isn't new. I added it to the MTC board last week but I forgot to upload it to Regardless, enjoy!

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"It's late, Cristina. You've to wake up at 5 to go to work tomorrow."

"So?" Cristina fitted her hand beneath her chin and looked pensively at him.

"So we should sleep."

"No, so I should sleep," Cristina rolled her eyes in protest. "But I can't, because you woke me up just now."

"You know you're being difficult?" Burke raised one side of his lips and let his hands wander up and down her stomach.

"That doesn't help," Cristina pretended to frown. "You'll only get me aroused."

"What do you want then?" Burke looked at the mysterious yet alluring expression on her face. "I can warm you a glass of milk."

"No."

"Want me to play some music?"

"Wait, you mean YOU will play me some music?" Cristina widened her eyes and smiled mischievously.

"Well, I mean I could get a CD."

"No, I like your idea." Cristina blinked again. "You play."

Burke didn't speak.

"Please," Cristina touched the back of his ear with her lips.

Burke's voice turned heavy. "I don't know if I can ever play trumpet again."

Immediately, Cristina realized she had said the wrong thing. They were having such a great night and she was on the verge of blowing it because of one stupid demand!

"Honey, I'm sorry," Cristina pressed her palm on top of his chest, hoping she could take away absorb some of the heaviness in his heart.

Burke did not respond but turned away. That scared her. He was becoming so sensitive now, like a woman; a wife.

"Burke…"

Cristina lied on the bed in silence, wondering about what was going on. She would not forgive herself for making him mad. But what was he doing now? Turning away to torture her?

Cristina, too, had become more sensitive.

Just when she was about to apologize again, Cristina was stunned.

"Old McDonald had a farm, E-i ei o. And on that farm he had some chicks, E-i ei o…"

"Burke, you're not singing, are you?" Cristina was consumed by surprise and excitement as her man closed his eyes and continued dwelling on the tune.

Burke never told Cristina singing was another secret passion of his, although he sucked at it. Trumpeter Burke was the one with talent, but singer Burke deserved a round of applause for making an effort—even though it was a horrible song.

The man couldn't sing. Cristina smiled to herself. She was in love with a man who had the funniest singing voice, and who picked the dorkiest song she had ever heard of! He could have sung Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star if he didn't know the lullaby, but the farmer song?

Cristina's mind was suddenly flooded with images of Burke singing with a bunch of kids, imitating the chickens and the cows— He would make a good father, so long as he didn't get mad when his kids laughed at his singing.—It was a weird thought. It was even more weird when she saw herself standing in the background smiling at Burke and his children.

Cristina looked up and grinned in his direction, before humming along.

It wasn't a bad song at all.