To Love Somebody 1/?
Author: JeriBearRN
Title: To Love Somebody 1/?
Summary: Set just after the end of Cristina's residency, she finds herself in a difficult life with Owen Hunt, but she won't give up on him because she loves him. Or she thinks she does.
Rating: I'm going to slap a big fat 'R' on the entire story, but there is sexual content, even in the first chapter. you've been warned.
Disclaimer: These characters are property of Shonda Rhimes/ABC and Grey's Anatomy. They do not belong to me. Reimbursment is not recieved for ficticious works.
The past. Sometimes we live there, longing for the days of old. Sometimes we resent every part of it and regret days gone by. Sometimes we can pinpoint the exact moment that your life went into a tailspin and we wonder exactly what we could have done differently to prevent that collapse. More often than not though, the past has a way of coming back to haunt us. It picks up memories desperately in need of being forgotten, dusts them off and places them in the forefront of your mind. It can be a card, a picture, a song- a person. Just when you think you’ve pulled yourself together, the past finds you and reminds you just how good it really was. What you have to be careful of though, is when the past tries to remind you how it could good be again.
x-x-x-x-x
The sky. No, not the sky. The sky isn’t usually that dark. Maybe the ocean.
Yes. That’s it, the ocean. The ocean just outside of Malibu with turbulent winds falling off of an afternoon storm causing the waves to crash against the shore- that’s the color that his eyes were. With little flecks of gray that shone through when he was tired or when he was slipping into that deep abyss that try as she might, she could never keep him out of.
Today, though, they were just blue.
Rough fingertips danced across the curve of her hip, sliding upwards over fine beads of sweat. Red whiskers grazed porcelain skin and left small streaks, little marks of possession. Pink lips met, tongues twined, two bodies melted into one. Her lips broke from his again, a gasp escaping as her fingernails dug into his sculpted shoulders.
An amused smirk crossed his lips when she unraveled for a second time, writhing beneath him as she lost all control. Flashes of light disrupted her gaze into his eyes and she let them slip closed, electricity curling her toes and sending shivers down her spine.
His name left her lips in a sexy little whimper, one that always drove him over the edge and he released deep inside her. Collapsing over her, he buried his face in her thick black curls as he fought for breath. She had this effect on him that no woman ever had. If he was the type to believe in soul mates, he would believe that she was his.
Owen Hunt had never loved another woman like he loved Cristina. Words failed him when it came to describing her, when it came to trying to find a definition to fit exactly what it was that they had.
He knew he was damn lucky to have it.
Finally, he rolled off of her, pulling her to his side. His eyes drifted closed and he felt her tracing words into his abdomen delicately. He smiled when he felt the words, and answered her in a rumble of a voice. “I love you too.”
Cristina looked up at him with a furrowed brow, “Too? I didn’t say I loved you.”
“You traced the L over my seventh intercostals space. The O just above it. V landed over about where my mitral valve would be,” He rattled off with a cocky grin, “Shall I continue?”
“Please.” She answered, matching his expression. “Continue in your delusions.”
He rolled over and kissed her forehead, his hand sliding down her back. He wanted to tell her how lucky he was, how fortunate he was to have ever found her- but the words just wouldn’t come. He never had the right words to say to her. His fingers slid down her hip and to the scar that lay on her abdomen. It was fading now, a testament to the years that they’ve spent together.
Marriage has crossed his mind a few times, but he’s not ready yet.
What he doesn’t know is that it’s crossed hers too.
There’s always a certain sense of hesitation, a sense of timing being off. A certain reminder her that right now, he’s as whole as he’ll ever be- when he takes his medication every day and gets his blood drawn every month to make sure that it hasn’t killed his liver.
He’s broken and time after time she’s had to remind him that she still loves him, that even if he rattles when he walks from all of the medications, she still loves him.
A smile crosses his lips as he looks down to see that she’s dozed off.
Their life together is good. They cook together, though cooking usually consists of her eating the vegetables as he’s cutting them and teasing him relentlessly as he pan fries some chicken. Sometimes he can talk her into cutting the vegetables and he uses the opportunity to torture her the way she does him. They watch movies, the genre depends on his mood- he can only handle so many mysteries, despite the fact that they’re her favorite, because the sound of a gunshot still causes him to break into a cold sweat.
Cristina understands and she says that she wants to be there, but he can’t help but feel that he’s compromising her, that he’s taken something away from her. He knows enough to never say a thing about it because he’s heard the story about Burke. Putting his fist straight between his eyes is still an idea he entertains despite the fact he hasn’t heard the pain in her voice for years.
It’s probably the same thing that people have wanted to do to him. He’s left a fiancée too. Just not that close to the church. Somehow it makes him better than Burke, it makes him different. What he did was worse.
Maybe it’s worse because he did it to Cristina.
One day, he’ll find the words. One day, he’ll find a way to break past the final barrier that keeps them apart and he’ll ask her to marry him. He’ll gently bring up the idea of kids- he oft finds himself wondering if it’s possible to have a little girl that looks like her, but with his blue eyes.
Secretly, he has a name for that little girl too.
He doesn’t daydream about any other kids, just the girl. Owen is smart enough to know that if he can talk Cristina into one that another wouldn’t ever be an option. She’d be miserable pregnant, but he’d rub her feet and her back. He’d paint her toenails and remind her that she was beautiful and abstain from alcohol for every last minute that she did.
Owen knows that Cristina would be a good mother and that their daughter would be beautiful.
What he doesn’t know is how he’d handle being a father. What if he lost it when she was at work and he hurt the baby? What if he lost himself once again and he couldn’t hear the baby crying or in distress?
He let out a heavy sigh that caused her to stir slightly. Carefully, he eased away from her and slid out of the bed. He bent over, pulled on some clothes and left her lying across an empty bed. His mind wasn’t going to stop tonight and he didn’t want to wake her. She’d been particularly busy at work this week and he knew how important it was for her to rest.
He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to spend his life with her, but any time that he focused on it, this is what he felt. This is what happened.
His chest tightened and his throat closed off, making it hard to breathe. Sinking to the couch, he ran his fingers through damp red hair and let out a breath, trying to calm himself. He would never be able to get it together. He would never be good enough for her. He shouldn’t even be with her.
He wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t strong enough, he was weak.
Weak, weak, weak.
His tear filled eyes traced over to the bottle of pills sitting on the end table, where they had to stay in cases just like this. He looked away from them and tried to force himself to breathe. If he could just breathe then he wouldn’t have to take the goddamn pill. If he could just get his chest to stop hurting he wouldn’t need it.
He slammed his fist into the couch cushion, trying to find some sort of strength inside him to make it stop. A sound escaped his lips, and he’d never been able to name it. It was the sound of him breaking combined with torture mixed with tears and frustration.
And it was enough to wake Cristina.
She crept quietly into the kitchen and filled a glass with some cold water, wearing only his t-shirt. Slowly, she approached him and picked up the bottle of pills on the way. Everything was carefully choreographed, but etched into her muscle memory. She’d been here before. They both knew this place all too well. Glass on the table, bottle open and one pill in her palm.
Cristina opens his hand, uncurling his clenched fist carefully and she puts the pill there. If she puts the pill there, it’s easier for him to take it because he’s not doing it. She’s making him. He raises it to his lips and she reaches for the glass of water. Her eyes remain fixed on his face as he takes a drink and then puts the cup back down with a shaking hand.
It’s a routine that she’s all too familiar with.
She reminds him that she loves him, that she doesn’t mind. This happens. It’s not a big deal.
He looks up at her with saddened eyes and she notices that the color of the ocean has faded and all she sees is gray.
Cristina will never admit it because she loves him and she doesn’t want to hurt him; but sometimes she wishes for days where she can only see the ocean.
Title: To Love Somebody 1/?
Summary: Set just after the end of Cristina's residency, she finds herself in a difficult life with Owen Hunt, but she won't give up on him because she loves him. Or she thinks she does.
Rating: I'm going to slap a big fat 'R' on the entire story, but there is sexual content, even in the first chapter. you've been warned.
Disclaimer: These characters are property of Shonda Rhimes/ABC and Grey's Anatomy. They do not belong to me. Reimbursment is not recieved for ficticious works.
The past. Sometimes we live there, longing for the days of old. Sometimes we resent every part of it and regret days gone by. Sometimes we can pinpoint the exact moment that your life went into a tailspin and we wonder exactly what we could have done differently to prevent that collapse. More often than not though, the past has a way of coming back to haunt us. It picks up memories desperately in need of being forgotten, dusts them off and places them in the forefront of your mind. It can be a card, a picture, a song- a person. Just when you think you’ve pulled yourself together, the past finds you and reminds you just how good it really was. What you have to be careful of though, is when the past tries to remind you how it could good be again.
x-x-x-x-x
The sky. No, not the sky. The sky isn’t usually that dark. Maybe the ocean.
Yes. That’s it, the ocean. The ocean just outside of Malibu with turbulent winds falling off of an afternoon storm causing the waves to crash against the shore- that’s the color that his eyes were. With little flecks of gray that shone through when he was tired or when he was slipping into that deep abyss that try as she might, she could never keep him out of.
Today, though, they were just blue.
Rough fingertips danced across the curve of her hip, sliding upwards over fine beads of sweat. Red whiskers grazed porcelain skin and left small streaks, little marks of possession. Pink lips met, tongues twined, two bodies melted into one. Her lips broke from his again, a gasp escaping as her fingernails dug into his sculpted shoulders.
An amused smirk crossed his lips when she unraveled for a second time, writhing beneath him as she lost all control. Flashes of light disrupted her gaze into his eyes and she let them slip closed, electricity curling her toes and sending shivers down her spine.
His name left her lips in a sexy little whimper, one that always drove him over the edge and he released deep inside her. Collapsing over her, he buried his face in her thick black curls as he fought for breath. She had this effect on him that no woman ever had. If he was the type to believe in soul mates, he would believe that she was his.
Owen Hunt had never loved another woman like he loved Cristina. Words failed him when it came to describing her, when it came to trying to find a definition to fit exactly what it was that they had.
He knew he was damn lucky to have it.
Finally, he rolled off of her, pulling her to his side. His eyes drifted closed and he felt her tracing words into his abdomen delicately. He smiled when he felt the words, and answered her in a rumble of a voice. “I love you too.”
Cristina looked up at him with a furrowed brow, “Too? I didn’t say I loved you.”
“You traced the L over my seventh intercostals space. The O just above it. V landed over about where my mitral valve would be,” He rattled off with a cocky grin, “Shall I continue?”
“Please.” She answered, matching his expression. “Continue in your delusions.”
He rolled over and kissed her forehead, his hand sliding down her back. He wanted to tell her how lucky he was, how fortunate he was to have ever found her- but the words just wouldn’t come. He never had the right words to say to her. His fingers slid down her hip and to the scar that lay on her abdomen. It was fading now, a testament to the years that they’ve spent together.
Marriage has crossed his mind a few times, but he’s not ready yet.
What he doesn’t know is that it’s crossed hers too.
There’s always a certain sense of hesitation, a sense of timing being off. A certain reminder her that right now, he’s as whole as he’ll ever be- when he takes his medication every day and gets his blood drawn every month to make sure that it hasn’t killed his liver.
He’s broken and time after time she’s had to remind him that she still loves him, that even if he rattles when he walks from all of the medications, she still loves him.
A smile crosses his lips as he looks down to see that she’s dozed off.
Their life together is good. They cook together, though cooking usually consists of her eating the vegetables as he’s cutting them and teasing him relentlessly as he pan fries some chicken. Sometimes he can talk her into cutting the vegetables and he uses the opportunity to torture her the way she does him. They watch movies, the genre depends on his mood- he can only handle so many mysteries, despite the fact that they’re her favorite, because the sound of a gunshot still causes him to break into a cold sweat.
Cristina understands and she says that she wants to be there, but he can’t help but feel that he’s compromising her, that he’s taken something away from her. He knows enough to never say a thing about it because he’s heard the story about Burke. Putting his fist straight between his eyes is still an idea he entertains despite the fact he hasn’t heard the pain in her voice for years.
It’s probably the same thing that people have wanted to do to him. He’s left a fiancée too. Just not that close to the church. Somehow it makes him better than Burke, it makes him different. What he did was worse.
Maybe it’s worse because he did it to Cristina.
One day, he’ll find the words. One day, he’ll find a way to break past the final barrier that keeps them apart and he’ll ask her to marry him. He’ll gently bring up the idea of kids- he oft finds himself wondering if it’s possible to have a little girl that looks like her, but with his blue eyes.
Secretly, he has a name for that little girl too.
He doesn’t daydream about any other kids, just the girl. Owen is smart enough to know that if he can talk Cristina into one that another wouldn’t ever be an option. She’d be miserable pregnant, but he’d rub her feet and her back. He’d paint her toenails and remind her that she was beautiful and abstain from alcohol for every last minute that she did.
Owen knows that Cristina would be a good mother and that their daughter would be beautiful.
What he doesn’t know is how he’d handle being a father. What if he lost it when she was at work and he hurt the baby? What if he lost himself once again and he couldn’t hear the baby crying or in distress?
He let out a heavy sigh that caused her to stir slightly. Carefully, he eased away from her and slid out of the bed. He bent over, pulled on some clothes and left her lying across an empty bed. His mind wasn’t going to stop tonight and he didn’t want to wake her. She’d been particularly busy at work this week and he knew how important it was for her to rest.
He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to spend his life with her, but any time that he focused on it, this is what he felt. This is what happened.
His chest tightened and his throat closed off, making it hard to breathe. Sinking to the couch, he ran his fingers through damp red hair and let out a breath, trying to calm himself. He would never be able to get it together. He would never be good enough for her. He shouldn’t even be with her.
He wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t strong enough, he was weak.
Weak, weak, weak.
His tear filled eyes traced over to the bottle of pills sitting on the end table, where they had to stay in cases just like this. He looked away from them and tried to force himself to breathe. If he could just breathe then he wouldn’t have to take the goddamn pill. If he could just get his chest to stop hurting he wouldn’t need it.
He slammed his fist into the couch cushion, trying to find some sort of strength inside him to make it stop. A sound escaped his lips, and he’d never been able to name it. It was the sound of him breaking combined with torture mixed with tears and frustration.
And it was enough to wake Cristina.
She crept quietly into the kitchen and filled a glass with some cold water, wearing only his t-shirt. Slowly, she approached him and picked up the bottle of pills on the way. Everything was carefully choreographed, but etched into her muscle memory. She’d been here before. They both knew this place all too well. Glass on the table, bottle open and one pill in her palm.
Cristina opens his hand, uncurling his clenched fist carefully and she puts the pill there. If she puts the pill there, it’s easier for him to take it because he’s not doing it. She’s making him. He raises it to his lips and she reaches for the glass of water. Her eyes remain fixed on his face as he takes a drink and then puts the cup back down with a shaking hand.
It’s a routine that she’s all too familiar with.
She reminds him that she loves him, that she doesn’t mind. This happens. It’s not a big deal.
He looks up at her with saddened eyes and she notices that the color of the ocean has faded and all she sees is gray.
Cristina will never admit it because she loves him and she doesn’t want to hurt him; but sometimes she wishes for days where she can only see the ocean.