The King and Queen of Hearts 1/?
Rating: R for sexual content.
Summary: Their's is a love story that's unlike any other; a story of heartache and angst. One of emptiness and loneliness and learning the hard way that they were made for each other. It's not a story of holding gazes across a crowded room and smiles playing upon their lips. It's a story of tears prickling their eyes and fighting back angry words. It's a tale of hating and healing all at the same time.
Disclaimer: These characters are property of Shonda Rhimes/ABC and Grey's Anatomy. They do not belong to me. Reimbursement is not received for fictitious works.
Spoilers for episode 6.13
Their relationship wasn't one that anybody would ever understand. It was this big thing that happened so quietly, one of those major events that you never see coming that leaves you in an utter state of confusion. One day they weren't, the next day they were.
The story isn't exactly complete to outsiders; one moment there was a trauma surgeon and a quiet city hall wedding being planned. The next moment there was a heart surgeon and a fist fight and the admission that she couldn't do it.
She simply couldn't do it anymore.
Their's is a love story that's unlike any other; a story of heartache and angst. One of emptiness and loneliness and learning the hard way that they were made for each other. It's not a story of holding gazes across a crowded room and smiles playing upon their lips. It's a story of tears prickling their eyes and fighting back angry words. It's a tale of hating and healing all at the same time.
To really understand it, to understand them, we should start from the beginning. Not the beginning that you'd expect where boy meets girl and boy asks girl out (or buys her a coffee in their case) but the real beginning.
After their first ending.
A darkness had settled over her life before she met him. Cristina had been lonely, had felt emptiness. She was a ghost and he saw her. When she thought that nobody could see her, he couldn't stop looking. For the first time in a long time, he made her heart race, he left her breathless, he made her love again.
Owen wasn't exactly the man she had pictured as being the man of her dreams. She wasn't really into the military thing or the emotional wounds thing. She hadn't really pictured talking to a shrink for the man that she loved. There was no doubt in her mind that she loved him, no creeping suspicions that he was only partially filling a void that the other man in her life had left.
At one time she had convinced herself that she loved him more and no matter how much it scared her, she was sure that he'd never hurt her as much as the last. That he'd always be there for her and that he'd understand her even if she had to fight like hell to make him do it.
That was all before, though.
It was before she found herself standing at the back of a room with a teenage couple, a pregnant woman waiting for her boyfriend to show up and Owen. It was before her heart literally stopped beating in her chest for a full three seconds when coffee brown eyes met hers the moment their names were called.
It was before she realized that when you cannot have what you love, you love what is within reach.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she half argued in a breathless whisper. Her body betrayed her words however as she wrapped her legs around his waist, brought her lips to his once more. "This is the last time," she murmured into his mouth and was quickly silenced by a passionate kiss.
The time before was supposed to be the last too, as well as the time before that.
"Shut up," he rumbled into the kiss before easing himself inside her. It had been too long and the time had taken its toll on both of them. Despite the overwhelming urge to pound her into the wall, Burke held back for fear that it would be over too soon.
It was always too soon when he wanted to stay buried inside her forever, when he wanted to hold her in his arms for all eternity.
Weekends that escaped them all too soon and rushed trysts in expensive motel rooms that may as well have been rented by the hour weren't exactly his idea of how he wanted to spend his life with her. Despite that fact, Burke had given up his right to a future with her years ago.
Now he would love her and cherish her any way he could, even if it reduced him to being the other man.
The one that nobody knew about.
"Burke," his name was a broken whimper on her lips, "baby, come back to me." Her fingers traced the underside of his jaw and she drew his eyes upwards, fixed her gaze with his. She could say everything to him without speaking a word just by looking into his eyes. Her lips grazed his only slightly and she pulled back again, stilling her hips against his for the slightest moment.
He was so deep inside her and his grip on her was so tight, so secure. It never failed to amaze her, how incredibly right he felt. She was whole with him, moreso than with anybody else.
Cristina could see the sadness in his eyes and she knew that his fears were the same as hers; that one day this really would end. Her arms tightened around his shoulders and her fingers moved through the short curls at the nape of his neck, "Maybe not tonight," she finally whispered. "Another night."
There was no visible sigh of relief on his part, he only returned her gentle kiss. Slowly he began to move again, resumed drawing shuddering gasps and throaty moans from her soft pink lips. He watched with satisfaction as her brown eyes disappeared under heavy lids and pleasure overtook her body. He could feel her skin rise with gooseflesh against his, felt her heart pounding harder against his.
Burke took his pleasure from her then, pushing her harder into the wall, hammering his hips into hers at an angle that should have been illegal. His fingers tangled into her curls and he tugged gently at them to place one last bruising kiss against her lips. With a less-than-dignified grunt he spilled inside her, his hips delivering one last blow into hers that set her body off into another orgasm.
For countless moments they stayed there, pressed into the wall and holding onto each other. Clinging to the one thing they needed, the half that made them whole and dreading the moment that they would have to separate.
If it hadn't been her life, Cristina would have laughed at it and called it melodramatic. She would have gone on about how stupid the woman was for not just being able to make a choice and get over whatever trauma that it was that held her back from really being happy. It was her life though and it was her trauma.
What she had with Burke right now wasn't ideal but it worked. If for some reason he disappeared again, she could have chalked it up to him being tired of merely being the other man. She could have attributed it to him wanting more than a relationship based purely on physical need and little emotional attachment.
Or at least she could pretend that there wasn't any emotional attachment there.
Burke eased her legs from around his hips until her feet touched the cold floor and he held her a moment longer, making sure that she was steady on the ground before letting her go. Every time he had to walk away from her, every time he had to let go of her, it killed him. It killed him to know that she was going back to him and that he was touching her and kissing her, that he was laying claim to the woman that Burke was very much in love with.
It killed him to share Cristina with somebody else.
A long time ago, Burke had learned to stop saying things. He loved her and she knew it. She loved him and he knew it. Saying it didn't make anything easier and it never changed her mind. The routine was always the same. They'd dress, they'd hold each other for just a little while longer and then she'd kiss him goodbye and leave wordlessly.
There was never promise of another time or day that they'd see each other again. There was never a plan to be made.
It would simply end.
Cristina watched as he spread out across one side of the bed in only his boxers. She glanced at the time on the clock by his head and then the jeans in her hand and she dropped them to the floor. She couldn't do it tonight.
She couldn't leave.
Silently, she flipped off the bedroom lights and then crawled into the bed next to him. She pressed her body into his and lay her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart.
Cristina had always cherished the fact that Burke was a runner, his heart rate was no different than the sound of his voice: soft and soothing, a moderate tempo that lulled her and relaxed her. Owen's was the polar opposite, reflecting the intensity of his personality: always slightly tachycardic, loud and upsetting. The sound of his heart made her anxious as if somehow the muscle inside his chest knew what she was doing.
It was in those moments that she'd chide herself for reading too much Edgar Allen Poe as a child. There was no way that he knew without knowing and hearts didn't do anything except for pump blood to the body and stop beating far too soon.
And break.
Her heart was good at breaking.
Burke's arm wrapped around her and he brushed his lips against her forehead. It wasn't the ideal situation, being the other man, but he was going to love her and cherish her until death prevented him from doing so.
Cristina pressed her body closer into his, their legs tangling. She took in a deep breath, inhaled and memorized his scent; imprinted the memory into the forefront of her mind. The perfect moment before she made everything imperfect.
"Burke?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
Despite the volume of his name, the intonation in which he used it caused his blood to run cold. "Cristina," he answered, her name laced with hesitation.
She clenched her jaw and felt tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do. Clearing her throat slightly, her hand found his and she interlaced their fingers. "I love you," she finally murmured, closing her eyes.
It wasn't what she needed to tell him at all.
"I love you too, Cristina. I always will," he answered gently.
Cristina nodded slightly against his chest, closing her eyes and trying to forget exactly what it was that she should have told him. She could tell him another night. There would be many more nights, there had to be.
She had already lived a life without him before, doing it again was not an option.
Summary: Their's is a love story that's unlike any other; a story of heartache and angst. One of emptiness and loneliness and learning the hard way that they were made for each other. It's not a story of holding gazes across a crowded room and smiles playing upon their lips. It's a story of tears prickling their eyes and fighting back angry words. It's a tale of hating and healing all at the same time.
Disclaimer: These characters are property of Shonda Rhimes/ABC and Grey's Anatomy. They do not belong to me. Reimbursement is not received for fictitious works.
Spoilers for episode 6.13
Their relationship wasn't one that anybody would ever understand. It was this big thing that happened so quietly, one of those major events that you never see coming that leaves you in an utter state of confusion. One day they weren't, the next day they were.
The story isn't exactly complete to outsiders; one moment there was a trauma surgeon and a quiet city hall wedding being planned. The next moment there was a heart surgeon and a fist fight and the admission that she couldn't do it.
She simply couldn't do it anymore.
Their's is a love story that's unlike any other; a story of heartache and angst. One of emptiness and loneliness and learning the hard way that they were made for each other. It's not a story of holding gazes across a crowded room and smiles playing upon their lips. It's a story of tears prickling their eyes and fighting back angry words. It's a tale of hating and healing all at the same time.
To really understand it, to understand them, we should start from the beginning. Not the beginning that you'd expect where boy meets girl and boy asks girl out (or buys her a coffee in their case) but the real beginning.
After their first ending.
A darkness had settled over her life before she met him. Cristina had been lonely, had felt emptiness. She was a ghost and he saw her. When she thought that nobody could see her, he couldn't stop looking. For the first time in a long time, he made her heart race, he left her breathless, he made her love again.
Owen wasn't exactly the man she had pictured as being the man of her dreams. She wasn't really into the military thing or the emotional wounds thing. She hadn't really pictured talking to a shrink for the man that she loved. There was no doubt in her mind that she loved him, no creeping suspicions that he was only partially filling a void that the other man in her life had left.
At one time she had convinced herself that she loved him more and no matter how much it scared her, she was sure that he'd never hurt her as much as the last. That he'd always be there for her and that he'd understand her even if she had to fight like hell to make him do it.
That was all before, though.
It was before she found herself standing at the back of a room with a teenage couple, a pregnant woman waiting for her boyfriend to show up and Owen. It was before her heart literally stopped beating in her chest for a full three seconds when coffee brown eyes met hers the moment their names were called.
It was before she realized that when you cannot have what you love, you love what is within reach.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she half argued in a breathless whisper. Her body betrayed her words however as she wrapped her legs around his waist, brought her lips to his once more. "This is the last time," she murmured into his mouth and was quickly silenced by a passionate kiss.
The time before was supposed to be the last too, as well as the time before that.
"Shut up," he rumbled into the kiss before easing himself inside her. It had been too long and the time had taken its toll on both of them. Despite the overwhelming urge to pound her into the wall, Burke held back for fear that it would be over too soon.
It was always too soon when he wanted to stay buried inside her forever, when he wanted to hold her in his arms for all eternity.
Weekends that escaped them all too soon and rushed trysts in expensive motel rooms that may as well have been rented by the hour weren't exactly his idea of how he wanted to spend his life with her. Despite that fact, Burke had given up his right to a future with her years ago.
Now he would love her and cherish her any way he could, even if it reduced him to being the other man.
The one that nobody knew about.
"Burke," his name was a broken whimper on her lips, "baby, come back to me." Her fingers traced the underside of his jaw and she drew his eyes upwards, fixed her gaze with his. She could say everything to him without speaking a word just by looking into his eyes. Her lips grazed his only slightly and she pulled back again, stilling her hips against his for the slightest moment.
He was so deep inside her and his grip on her was so tight, so secure. It never failed to amaze her, how incredibly right he felt. She was whole with him, moreso than with anybody else.
Cristina could see the sadness in his eyes and she knew that his fears were the same as hers; that one day this really would end. Her arms tightened around his shoulders and her fingers moved through the short curls at the nape of his neck, "Maybe not tonight," she finally whispered. "Another night."
There was no visible sigh of relief on his part, he only returned her gentle kiss. Slowly he began to move again, resumed drawing shuddering gasps and throaty moans from her soft pink lips. He watched with satisfaction as her brown eyes disappeared under heavy lids and pleasure overtook her body. He could feel her skin rise with gooseflesh against his, felt her heart pounding harder against his.
Burke took his pleasure from her then, pushing her harder into the wall, hammering his hips into hers at an angle that should have been illegal. His fingers tangled into her curls and he tugged gently at them to place one last bruising kiss against her lips. With a less-than-dignified grunt he spilled inside her, his hips delivering one last blow into hers that set her body off into another orgasm.
For countless moments they stayed there, pressed into the wall and holding onto each other. Clinging to the one thing they needed, the half that made them whole and dreading the moment that they would have to separate.
If it hadn't been her life, Cristina would have laughed at it and called it melodramatic. She would have gone on about how stupid the woman was for not just being able to make a choice and get over whatever trauma that it was that held her back from really being happy. It was her life though and it was her trauma.
What she had with Burke right now wasn't ideal but it worked. If for some reason he disappeared again, she could have chalked it up to him being tired of merely being the other man. She could have attributed it to him wanting more than a relationship based purely on physical need and little emotional attachment.
Or at least she could pretend that there wasn't any emotional attachment there.
Burke eased her legs from around his hips until her feet touched the cold floor and he held her a moment longer, making sure that she was steady on the ground before letting her go. Every time he had to walk away from her, every time he had to let go of her, it killed him. It killed him to know that she was going back to him and that he was touching her and kissing her, that he was laying claim to the woman that Burke was very much in love with.
It killed him to share Cristina with somebody else.
A long time ago, Burke had learned to stop saying things. He loved her and she knew it. She loved him and he knew it. Saying it didn't make anything easier and it never changed her mind. The routine was always the same. They'd dress, they'd hold each other for just a little while longer and then she'd kiss him goodbye and leave wordlessly.
There was never promise of another time or day that they'd see each other again. There was never a plan to be made.
It would simply end.
Cristina watched as he spread out across one side of the bed in only his boxers. She glanced at the time on the clock by his head and then the jeans in her hand and she dropped them to the floor. She couldn't do it tonight.
She couldn't leave.
Silently, she flipped off the bedroom lights and then crawled into the bed next to him. She pressed her body into his and lay her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart.
Cristina had always cherished the fact that Burke was a runner, his heart rate was no different than the sound of his voice: soft and soothing, a moderate tempo that lulled her and relaxed her. Owen's was the polar opposite, reflecting the intensity of his personality: always slightly tachycardic, loud and upsetting. The sound of his heart made her anxious as if somehow the muscle inside his chest knew what she was doing.
It was in those moments that she'd chide herself for reading too much Edgar Allen Poe as a child. There was no way that he knew without knowing and hearts didn't do anything except for pump blood to the body and stop beating far too soon.
And break.
Her heart was good at breaking.
Burke's arm wrapped around her and he brushed his lips against her forehead. It wasn't the ideal situation, being the other man, but he was going to love her and cherish her until death prevented him from doing so.
Cristina pressed her body closer into his, their legs tangling. She took in a deep breath, inhaled and memorized his scent; imprinted the memory into the forefront of her mind. The perfect moment before she made everything imperfect.
"Burke?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
Despite the volume of his name, the intonation in which he used it caused his blood to run cold. "Cristina," he answered, her name laced with hesitation.
She clenched her jaw and felt tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do. Clearing her throat slightly, her hand found his and she interlaced their fingers. "I love you," she finally murmured, closing her eyes.
It wasn't what she needed to tell him at all.
"I love you too, Cristina. I always will," he answered gently.
Cristina nodded slightly against his chest, closing her eyes and trying to forget exactly what it was that she should have told him. She could tell him another night. There would be many more nights, there had to be.
She had already lived a life without him before, doing it again was not an option.