The next morning, Cristina wakes up to the feeling of movement beneath her.
Disoriented, she lifts her head, momentarily confused by the loss of warmth against her cheek. Then she opens her eyes–and looks directly into familiar pale blue pools, just inches away.
Cristina freezes, staring helplessly into Erica's eyes.
Erica's mouth is so close to hers that she could kiss her without even moving.
Belatedly, she realizes that she's pinning her down–her arm wrapped around Erica's ribs, her leg thrown over her hips, their breasts pressed together.
For a long, long moment, they look at each other. Erica's face is indecipherable. Cristina hopes hers is, too.
"Excuse me, Yang," Erica says at last. Her voice is soft, and even more gravelly than usual from sleep. Arousal flashes hot through Cristina's entire body.
Somehow, she manages not to grind down on the hard thigh between her legs.
"God—sorry," Cristina says, and moves herself away, immediately distressed by the realization of just how comfortably they'd fit together. Her body is tingling all over, and she doesn't normally blush, but she just knows her cheeks are flaming.
She shuts her eyes and rolls over as though she's going back to sleep, trying to make the movement look casual. The bed shifts as Erica gets up. Cristina can hear her gathering her things. Then, no more than two minutes later, the door opening and closing.
She breathes in and out, deeply, until the burning in her stomach subsides.
Despite the fact that her heart is still pounding from waking up in Erica's arms–and she has a strange feeling that she did the same thing yesterday, shit–she decides that it's fine. Everything is going to be fine. She can certainly make it through the rest of this godforsaken conference in this tiny hotel in the middle of nowhere that Webber insisted they go to, even though it meant losing both his head of cardio and his star cardio attending for three days, not including travel time.
She might have a teeny little crush on Erica–might be picturing her right now in that suit, the length of her body moving through water, barely clothed–but it doesn't matter. There are only two days left in the conference. It's fine and she's going to be fine.
It's only five in the morning, so she does in fact fall back asleep, and doesn't wake up again until much later.
This time Erica is fully dressed when Cristina opens her eyes. She is mostly, almost definitely glad about this.
The blue suit is hanging up in the bathroom again, and in the shower Cristina can't help but think about Erica naked in the same space just short minutes ago.
Knock it off, she tells herself firmly.
Unfortunately, she's never been a very good listener.
When she finally emerges from the bathroom, Erica is lounging on the couch reading a book, apparently much more relaxed now that her talk is over.
"Want to get breakfast?" Erica asks, glancing up.
"Yeah, sure," Cristina says. She gathers her purse and jacket, then looks for her shoes. Erica swings her legs off the couch and follows suit.
"Listen—I'm sorry about earlier," Cristina says awkwardly. "I do that to Meredith all the time. If Derek didn't know better, he'd think I was her mistress." She takes a few nervous sips of the shitty coffee, trying to finish it quickly.
"Don't worry, I'll just tell him that you're my girlfriend," Erica deadpans, "and I don't like to share."
This time it's Cristina's turn to choke on her drink. She splutters, then forces a laugh.
Erica laughs too, but she also blushes all the way from her neck to the tips of her ears. Cristina concentrates very hard on putting on her shoes.
They find a table in the common area where breakfast is served, and put their things down to stake a claim. Cristina eyes the long line at the buffet, and the even longer line at the coffee stand.
"How do you take your coffee?" Erica asks.
"Huh?"
"I can get the coffee, if you want," Erica says.
"Oh, okay," Cristina says, upsettingly charmed by the offer. "Should I get you a plate?"
"Don't worry about it, I can get one after," Erica says easily. "I'm picky about fruit. And muffins."
Cristina laughs. "Okay, thanks," she says. "Just a little milk, one sugar."
Erica nods, as if committing it to memory. She takes her jacket off and drapes it over a chair.
"Do you want to find a real bar for debriefing tonight? I think I'm going to need something stronger than beer," Cristina says.
"Sure," Erica says after a moment, and smiles–her real smile again, unexpectedly. "We can go after your talk?"
"Yeah, okay," Cristina says. Erica nods again, and walks off to the coffee line.
Not a date, Yang. Not a date.
Erica returns with the coffee not too long after Cristina has gotten her food. She places Cristina's drink in front of her, takes a long sip of her own coffee, then leaves it on the table and goes to wait for the buffet.
Cristina does not watch her walk away.
Not for long, anyway.
Cristina has just taken a bite of a bagel when a woman approaches her table and says, "Dr. Yang?"
She swallows abruptly, and says, "Yes?"
"My name is Dr. Barton. Please call me Gabrielle," the woman says, offering her hand. Cristina stands briefly to shake it, and gives her a once-over in spite of herself.
Gabrielle is just barely taller than her, with brown curls, light freckles and radiant hazel eyes, and she's smiling like she can't believe Cristina is real.
"I was late arriving to the conference, but I recognized you just now and had to introduce myself," Gabrielle explains, eyes sparkling. "I would love to talk to you about your research sometime–it's been invaluable to me, honestly. Maybe if we overlap at lunch?"
It's on the tip of Cristina's tongue to tell Gabrielle that she's sorry but she'll unfortunately be tied up at all mealtimes for the rest of the conference, so maybe they can chat over email if she has questions?
But she catches herself, and reconsiders.
Gabrielle is beautiful and clearly interested, and Cristina doesn't actually have a girlfriend. Maybe getting laid will take her mind off her professional problems. That's what this crush is, after all–a professional obstacle that she should take care of as quickly as she can. If she was in Seattle, or anywhere with a population greater than 3,000, she probably already would have found a bar and picked someone up.
"Sure," Cristina says, smiling and twirling a curl between her fingers. "That would be great."
Gabrielle grins wide, and asks more questions, and Cristina flirts back. It's easy and it's fine and Cristina is doing fine.
Then Gabrielle leans down and touches her necklace, and Cristina somehow makes eye contact with Erica directly over Gabrielle's shoulder. Erica's face doesn't change for a moment, then she half-smiles and raises her eyebrows.
The line moves, and Erica turns away to pick up a plate.
"Oh, I forgot–I have a consult during lunch," Cristina lies easily. "Maybe we can catch up another time?"
Gabrielle smiles and agrees, and then she's gone.
When Erica comes back, she doesn't say anything, just starts eating. There's something in the set of her jaw that's changed, but Cristina doesn't know why.
"Made a new friend. Networking," Cristina says, aiming for a light tone but sounding uncomfortable even to herself. "You know how it is."
"Yeah, that looked like networking," Erica says, and surely Cristina is just imagining the slight bite in her tone. "Dr. Barton wanted to talk to you about your work, right?"
"How'd you know?" Cristina says. She laughs, though it's not funny. Erica just raises her eyebrows again and goes back to her food.
Cristina tortures herself briefly wondering how Erica knows Gabrielle. Maybe Gabrielle approached her the same way. Is that how Erica knew, or was she just teasing?
She was probably teasing, but now Cristina can't stop thinking about Gabrielle sliding her hands over the muscles in Erica's back and tangling them in her long hair. Has Erica touched Gabrielle? Did she let Gabrielle touch her?
They finish breakfast in silence.
Somehow, they manage to not see each other for the rest of the day–going to different lectures, eating lunch at different times. Cristina does not miss her, at all, because that would be stupid, and Cristina Yang isn't stupid.
Cristina's talk is that afternoon, just before dinner. She puts on the clothes Erica ironed for her, brushes her hair then messes it up again, and the talk goes fine, she thinks. She gets distracted every time she spots Erica's golden hair in the audience, but she's practiced enough to not stumble too badly.
It's not just Erica's presence, though. It's the expression on her face. Not that Cristina can see her very clearly, since the audience is in shadow; but Erica is sitting in the second row, her face illuminated by the stage lights.
Erica is looking at her like–well. It sounds sort of crazy, but she knows Erica's expressions pretty well at this point, and she hasn't seen that face before.
Except maybe once or twice, back when she used to look at Callie like that.
Cristina remembers it vividly because of how startling it was, seeing open affection on Erica's always-stoic face. It only happened in quiet moments, when she thought no one was looking at her, or when she forgot to worry that someone might see.
Surely she's imagining it now, or misinterpreting, or something. She can't linger looking at Erica or she'll fuck up the presentation, so she comes to that conclusion pretty quickly–I'm just imagining it–and moves on.
She definitely does fuck up the presentation a little, though, because she can't stop wondering–
What if she isn't misinterpreting anything?
After the talk is over, a few people linger to ask questions and offer compliments. Cristina responds as best she can, distracted as she is by Erica's tall figure leaning against a wall, patiently waiting for her.
Then Gabrielle walks towards her.
"Just coming to tell you how good your talk was, but I suspect you already know," Gabrielle says playfully. "Congratulations, Dr. Yang."
Cristina hesitates a moment. It feels weirdly uncomfortable doing this in front of Erica. But it's not like she's going to kiss the woman, and there's nothing unprofessional about talking.
So she smiles and flirts and internally moves on to the next question, which is–does she want to do this with Gabrielle or not? Should she ask her out? She's pretty sure she would say yes, and she doesn't think Erica would mind postponing drinks.
Unless she would mind. If Cristina was right about her. Which is a big if.
But then, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Peterson approaching Erica again. She spots the way Erica straightens up, her shoulders rising steadily as he gets close to her.
And she hears herself say, "Please excuse me, Gabrielle. I need to go rescue my girlfriend."
Looping her purse over her shoulder, she walks straight over to Erica, brushing past the irritating man. Cristina grabs her hand, nudges her gently with her hip.
"Hey, thanks for waiting," Cristina says. "You ready for that drink?"
"I am," Erica says–and for the briefest moment, there's that look again, like Erica is smiling just with her eyes, just at her.
Cristina can't help it. She slides her hand up to Erica's shoulder and tugs slightly, pushing herself up to kiss her cheek–
–or tries, because at the last second Erica tilts her chin down to look at her, and then–
Then she's kissing Erica. On the mouth. Gently but firmly.
Erica kisses her back without hesitation. Cristina feels her arm wrap around her lower back, supporting her without holding her too tight. Cristina's hand moves from Erica's shoulder to her cheek, then her hair.
Through some distant haze, Cristina hears footsteps moving away. A few seconds later–Cristina is lingering, but Erica is letting her–they part.
Erica stares down at her, eyes wide. As Cristina watches, Erica's cheeks flush red.
Cristina clears her throat. Then she takes Erica's hand and tugs her along, as though that had all been a part of her plan. Erica follows her wordlessly.
Reveling in the way her lips tingle, in the warmth of Erica's palm against hers, Cristina thinks–You kissed me back.
Once they're alone in the elevator, Erica lets go of her hand, clears her throat and says, "Thanks."
"Anytime," Cristina says, and means it.
"Sorry about, uh, Dr. Barton. You can probably still catch up with her and explain," Erica says. She's staring straight ahead at the elevator doors.
"That's okay," Cristina says, watching her profile out of the corner of her eye.
Erica just nods.
The elevator dings, and they head back to their room. Cristina gathers some clothes and removes her notes from her purse, then pops into the bathroom to change.
When she emerges, Erica is fussing with a curl caught fast in her necklace, awkwardly trying to peer at it in the mirror.
"Can I help?" Cristina asks.
Erica sighs. "Yes, please," she says.
Cristina walks over, and Erica turns her back to her, bowing her head slightly.
Cristina gathers Erica's curls in her hands, gently lifting them off her neck so she can see. Once she's found the offending strand, she carefully winds the rest of her hair up.
"Can you hold this for me?" Cristina asks.
Without answering, Erica's hands find where Cristina is holding her hair. Cristina lets the curls fall into Erica's cupped palms, then deliberately brushes her fingers over the backs of Erica's hands, and skates her fingers down her neck to the chain. While she works, she lets her wrists rest against Erica's shoulders comfortably, as if they touched like this every day.
She doesn't want to be too obvious. It is possible, of course, that that kiss didn't mean what she thinks it means; and if it didn't, she doesn't want to come on too strong.
But Cristina is a scientist. She knows about testing theories.
Sure enough, Erica's breath hitches every time Cristina presses her fingers to her skin, and that red flush appears again on her pale neck, rising all the way up to her ears.
Cristina finishes untangling the necklace as quickly as she can. The task is made easier by the adrenaline rush she gets from feeling Erica's pulse quicken under her fingertips.
"Done," she says finally, dropping her hands. Erica lowers her hair, then turns to face her. Her cheeks are red, her eyes bright, and Cristina's face feels warm, too.
"Thanks," Erica says. They look at each other for a moment.
"Sure," Cristina says, then clears her throat. "I'm just about ready, I think."
"Yup," Erica says. "Let me just grab my bag."
Cristina watches her moving around the room, and thinks about every single time she's made Erica blush on this trip. Every soft smile. The way that Erica just went along with it when Cristina declared that they were dating, and held her hand or waist every time it was offered.
The way she kissed her back with no hesitation.
Obviously, she can't be sure what Erica's thinking or feeling. But she's as sure as she can be. Sure enough to try.