Note: I spend an immeasurable amount of time in Amelia's head, so I decided to take a break. This is Owen's POV, which is, regrettably, new territory for me. Apologies to every Owen Hunt fan that feels as if this isn't really his voice. I'm working on it.
Note 2: Yes, I've watched 11x17. Aside from the previous events, including: Herman, the three kisses, and a select few conversations that I felt crucial to developing this story, these characters are going to be taking the journey I want them to take. The similarities end at 11x16. Enjoy!
I loved Cristina, I really did. And it took me a long time to get over the pain and the loneliness that accompanied her leaving. Her side of the bed was always too cold, and I could never quite seem to get over the fact that her toothbrush was missing from the cabinet by the sink. But, with time, I did get over it. I'll always love Cristina, sure. But in a different way than I did before.
And with Amelia, it's different. I'm attracted to different parts of her, and she brings out a different person in me. It isn't really fair to compare the two of them, because the circumstances and the individuals are completely different. But I like that I feel as if I'm enough for Amelia, that despite my failures and my emotional baggage, she cares about me anyway. And I'm trying really hard not to screw it up, or say anything dumb, because I think that this could be a really good thing.
"Hi. Uh... Are we still- Did you want to, uh, you know?"
I know, I'm a smooth talker. But here's the thing: Amelia's gorgeous and I get more than a little flustered at the sight of her. I had all of these things that I wanted to say to her about how good we'd be together, that I liked having her around - both underneath me and in general - but the second I saw her, my mind went blank.
And while I'm mentally calculating all of the ways that I've just screwed up our first encounter since we kissed, and silently hoping to myself that she finds my rambling and stuttering as adorable as I find hers, I see her yawn.
It's been a long day, both for her and for me. Seeing her yawn makes me realize that I'm more than a little tired, too. As much as I want to have sex with her tonight, and believe me, I really do, I want it to be enjoyable. So, instead of pushing the issue, and making it seem like I'm only really in it for the sex, I give her an out.
"Hey, look. If you're tired we don't have to, uh... We can always try again tomorrow."
I probably could have phrased that better. But I don't want it to seem like I'm turning her down completely, or that I'm not interested in sex with her. In fact, I wish she knew how much I've been thinking about her.
From the second she pushed me up against the door, a move that made showing even a little restraint with her seem impossible, I knew that I was in trouble. I wasn't even going to last five minutes with all of the grinding and open-mouthed kisses she was dishing out. But, unlucky for me, I didn't even get a chance to see how long, or short, I would last. Our pagers interrupted us, and I was forced to drag myself away from the beautiful woman below me. It was hard. She was on my mind for the entire shift, and when our pagers interrupted us, yet again, I thought I might punch a hole through the wall.
This sexual tension, this need that I had to feel her beneath me, I thought it would take over the second I saw her after our shifts ended. But then she did that cute little yawn, and I decided that I could probably put my libido to the side, if only just for tonight.
I was so busy re-living our two previous encounters and thinking about all the things that I wanted to do in the future, that I nearly missed what she said to me.
"I'm exhausted, actually. So do you think that we could just sleep?"
Once my brain finally caught up to the implication behind her words, I couldn't stop the smile, or the blush, that spread across my face. At that moment, kissing her seemed like the only option. After briefly enjoying the softness of her lips, and the fact that she smelled like fresh flowers - impressive after working a twenty-six hour shift - I put my arm around her, and we left.
I tried to calm my nerves about our upcoming sleepover by making casual conversation in the car. We didn't talk about anything, really, aside from our current patients. It was nice though. She really cares about her work and her patients, and the look in her eyes when she talks about medicine, it's incredibly attractive. As if I needed yet another reason to find her attractive.
"So, um... What time do you need to be up tomorrow? Are you working?"
"Yeah. Around seven-thirty, actually. What about you?"
"I'm always working. I'll set an alarm for seven-thirty."
During this little conversation it became apparent to me that, unless she was going to sleep in her black pants and blouse she'd need something to wear. I did a quick mental catalogue of everything I owned, and upon examining her - all five feet and three inches - I decided that a shirt was the best I could offer. Any pants or boxers I may have would be embarrassingly long on her. Plus, there's always the added bonus that she'll be in my bed. With no pants.
"I have shirts. You know, so you can sleep in something a little more comfortable."
The smile she gave me about knocked me on my ass, and I just kept thinking about how incredible she was. It was only after I turned around with a shirt in hand that I realized what was she was doing.
After making sure that I had a shirt, and that I was, in fact, staring at her, she stripped down. And suddenly she was in front of me in only her black, lace bra, and matching underwear. Oh, and she had this look on her face, like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
It was all I could do to tear my eyes away from her breasts, or any part of her body for that matter, and give her the shirt. I came a little closer than necessary, because I'm still a guy, after all. And after giving her what I hoped was a completely arousing kiss, I stepped back and let her put my shirt on. I pulled the covers back and slid into bed, hoping that she would catch on.
It wasn't until she had climbed into bed next to me, and we had turned the lights out, that I realized how big of a step this was. And suddenly everything that I had wanted to say to her earlier, before her beauty rendered me speechless, came bubbling up again.
So I kissed her, first. I threw a little tongue in for good measure, because again, I'm a guy. And as tired as we both are, she's still Amelia, and she's still in bed wearing only my shirt and a very small pair of underwear. But once I got that out of my system, I gave the rest a shot.
"I'm uh, I'm really glad that you're here. In my bed. And in Seattle. You're just... incredible."
It wasn't much, or really anything close to what I had wanted to say, but I could tell that she got a little choked up nonetheless. It had been such an emotional couple of months for her, and I've found myself wanting to say these things, to hold her close, several times. It was incredible to finally be able to do it.
"Me too."
We kissed again, much shorter than I maybe would have liked. But then she rolled away from me, and I couldn't resist pressing myself against her. Putting my hands around her tiny body, letting them rest on her stomach, underneath her shirt. After breathing in the scent of her hair, and taking a few minutes to really enjoy the feel of her against me, I drifted off to sleep.
I could get used to this.
Final note: I'm pretty goddamn tired of my notes, so I can only imagine how you feel. I fully intend on writing a morning-after scene, in addition to some other stuff that I haven't planned yet. Stick around, or something.
