Disclaimer: These characters and all of Grey's Anatomy are the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. I do not own anything connected with this show.

A/N: They sure left us hanging after Owen made his "Forty Years" declaration, didn't they? Here's how I'd like to see it go after that.

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"You know you're a lot like her… stubborn… opinionated… smart. Forty years from now I'm gonna have to pry the scalpel out of your hand, too," he nodded playfully.

Cristina leaned in with a smirk, "From my cold, dead hands!"

Owen let out a breath. "You're... missing the point." He moved a bit closer, then looked her straight in the eye. "I want to be around 40 years from now."

Cristina stared at Owen for a moment. He held her gaze. Is he saying what I think he's saying? She waited a beat before responding.

"What are you saying?"

Owen smiled and leaned in closer. "Losing your edge already, Dr. Yang?" he teased. "You need me to spell it out for you, or can you connect the dots all by yourself?" He surprised her by leaning over and planting a quick kiss on her lips, then pulled back just a hair's breadth. Cristina tried hard to contain her surprise. Wow. He just did that in front of everyone… right here… at Joe's.

No matter. It had felt so good to have his lips on hers again after what seemed to her like an eternity of ridiculously chaste flirting. She was not about to let the opportunity go unexploited. "Um… I think I need you to spell it out."

Owen chuckled. "Hmmm… not that good a speller, actually…" he whispered into her ear, "but I do excel at show and tell." He kissed her ear and then reached his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a much longer and hotter version of his previous attempt at explanation. She tasted of tequila and lime. "Are you getting the point now?" he murmured.

Before she could respond they were interrupted by the sound of knuckles rapping on their table, and they turned to see Bailey staring at them, her mouth hanging open in disbelief and righteous indignation.

"Well, well, well… How about you two get yourselves a room before you set this whole place on fire?" She shook her head as if trying to make sense of something so far out in left field it was already bouncing its way through the parking lot. "Holy shit." She pointed first at Owen, then at Cristina, then back at Owen. "This one got right past me… and I'm supposed to KNOW what goes on in my hospital. First I see surgeons beating the snot out of each other in the hallway, punching each other in the face, messing up their million-dollar hands… and now you two turn out to be into some kind of hanky-panky that I never saw coming." She shook her head in wonderment and shot them a look as she headed out the door. "This has been one strange-ass day all around…"

Owen stared sheepishly at Bailey's retreating back and scanned the room to see if they had drawn any more attention to themselves. Callie raised her glass to him in a mock salute from the bar, but otherwise it seemed no one had noticed. Callie knew more than enough anyway, and they had an unspoken understanding since his disastrous first date with Cristina and their collusion in the misattribution of blame in the Mark Sloan penis adventure. No real harm done.

I'm surprising myself tonight, Owen reflected as he turned his attention back to Cristina. He had not intended to make out with her in the middle of Joe's, and not only because of an aversion to feeding the gossip mill. The truth was, that kiss had been so spontaneous that he had even caught himself off guard. Then again, he hadn't expected to tell her he wanted to be in her life 40 years from now, either, but he'd just gone and done that, too. He could blame it on the liberating effect of a couple of beers, but he knew that was no excuse. The truth was, he was getting clear on his intentions where Cristina was concerned, and in spite of his current difficulties with re-entry into the civilian world and life in general, there was still enough of the cocky badass in him to want to shake her up a little.

"You were saying…?" Cristina was still leaning in close to him, and her question brought him back from his reverie.

Owen kept his voice low. "You know, she does have a point… about the room. Uh… I've already seen your place…" Cristina raised an eyebrow and Owen laughed, "… or we could just pretend that never happened if you prefer… ah, fuck, I'm screwing this up…" He shook his head with a smile. "I'm inviting you over tonight. It's that simple."

Cristina snorted, "Oh, and I'll bet you have some priceless etchings to show me, right, Doctor?"

Owen stared at his hands for a moment before capturing her gaze with his intense blue one. He cleared his throat. "Yeah… uh… I'd like to think I can do a lot better than etchings…"

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Cristina took a final slug of her drink, grabbed her coat , and nodded toward the door. "Let's go."

Owen chuckled to himself and got up to accompany her, first dropping a few bucks on the table and taking another swig of beer. He helped her on with her coat as they headed out, his hand naturally finding its way to the small of her back. Her response to his invitation had made it clear that she was already several steps ahead, at least when it came to the physical side of their relationship, and he was going to have to jog a little to keep up with her. Not that he hadn't thought about it, obsessively for that matter, but he'd been leery of moving too quickly and turning her off in the wake of some of the emotional trauma she'd seen in him recently. He wasn't sure how far things would progress tonight, but just the idea of having her at his apartment was enough to require an adjustment to his jeans.

"Hang on," Owen said as they reached the door, and moved ahead to open it for her. Cristina smiled. She wasn't used to having doors held for her – didn't expect it from anyone, and was usually the first one to barge through and maybe grudgingly hold the door for whoever was behind her. But there was something nice about having the same guy who had just told her she was stubborn, opinionated, and smart feel the urge to perform that gentlemanly gesture for her. There was something VERY nice about that.

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Owen took her hand as they headed out the door and down the alley outside Joe's. He had no way of knowing that Cristina didn't do the hand-holding thing. Her strong intellectual side disdained it as too cutesy, reminding her of those insufferable couples in high school who needed to show off their couplehood by merging their pathetic sweaty palms together. The idea of holding hands with Burke had never crossed either of their minds, and she registered with some surprise that she had just naturally clasped Owen's hand in return, liking the feel of his warm palm next to hers on this chilly night, and enjoying the sense of protection she felt from the simple connection. As the realization struck her, she glanced over at him; he caught the look and returned it, giving her hand a little squeeze in the process.

His car was parked in the hospital lot, a couple of blocks away. As they made their way down the alley he remembered with no small distress the kiss he had inflicted on her the night that homeless patient, Timothy, had died. Well, maybe inflicted is too strong a word, he thought, but he had definitely been in a very different space then, totally raw, trying desperately to resist his attraction to her and to avoid connecting with anyone. It had been a hot kiss, no denying that, but he had reeled in shame for days afterward over his loss of control and the dark impulses that had led him to handle her so roughly. Things were better now – not perfect, but better. He was taking Cristina home with him and they both seemed to be in a good place regarding where their relationship was going. The urge to revisit the scene of the crime and forge a new memory around it was strong, and he stopped in his tracks, pulling Cristina to a halt as well. She turned to him. "What?"

"Humor me," he said, and backed her up against the wall. The look in her eyes was full of questions as he moved one of his hands up her arm and into her hair. He hovered just out of range and grazed her lips with his, teasing her with a gentle smile on his face before he finally moved in and covered her mouth. She moved her hands to his hips and up his back, and felt him edge his body closer as the kiss deepened. Soon it was as hot and forceful a kiss as the one they had shared there previously, but the way it had come about had completely altered the energy and imprinted something new and wonderful over the shadows that had lurked there before.

"That's my apology," Owen said when they finally surfaced, his forehead touching hers as he ran his hands down her arms and took both her hands in his.

"Uh, wow… Ok. If that's how you apologize, I hope you screw up more often… but… what for?"

"For practically mauling you the other time we were here. I've never forgiven myself."

"Oh, that… Don't worry... I actually thought it was kind of hot, to tell you the truth."

Owen laughed, throwing his arm around her shoulders and steering her back in the direction of the street, "Ummm… Huh. This is too perfect." He shook his head as if to clear it. "I have nothing to say."

"Good. Then you can shut up. I like your showing better than your telling anyhow." She bumped his side with her hip, giving him a playful little shove.

Owen laughed again, pulling her close as he led her toward his car. I'm not wrong to get my hopes up about tonight, he thought. There's no way I'm reading these signals wrong. No way at all…

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A/N: Please tell me what you think of it so far. Would you like me to continue this story?