disclaimer:

I do not own the rights to the characters used or to the song lyrics used. This fanfic is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of anyone, either the people who own the songs or lyrics used or the owners of the characters depicted in this story. Cristina Yang and Owen Hunt are characters on ABC's Grey's Anatomy.

He made an effort not to stare at Cristina during the ceremony. It was difficult, especially that first look at her, as she walked down the aisle in her strapless dress. It caught his breath, seeing her in that dress, the color of gunmetal, the material clinging to her slight frame. It wasn't a billowy dress by any means, and he was sure the only reason she was able to walk was the slit in the back, allowing for movement. Lexie followed Cristina down the aisle, but where Cristina's dress was strapless; Lexie's had little capped sleeves. Otherwise, they were nearly identical. Owen could tell the way Mark drew in a sharp breath that he wasn't the only one that felt like he'd been punched in the gut to see them walk down the aisle, each carrying a bouquet of purple and white flowers. It didn't surprise him that Meredith had gotten her gardenias after all.

She cried during the ceremony. Meredith, that is, not Cristina. Lexie cried, too, but no one lost any wagers on that one. No one was shocked to see Mark and Derek wiping away tears, either. It was a short ceremony, but beautiful and well attended. Cristina tried her best not to look at him, but her glances were anything but sly. It may have been that it was her first time seeing him in a tux. It may have been something else entirely. During the vows, she stopped pretending not to look at him.

They chose traditional vows, and cried through them. Owen watched Cristina as Derek took Meredith to be his wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish from this day forward until death do they part. Cristina's eyes stayed on him as Meredith repeated the vows back. She continued to watch him as Meredith, hands shaking furiously, slid a gold band onto Derek's finger. When the band was on, Derek held both of Meredith's hands in his, and grinned at her. In the middle of it all, just before the kiss, Meredith burst out laughing. And Derek laughed. And they almost let the official announce the kiss, but some things are more important than waiting. They stole their kiss.

And when it was over, they walked together down the aisle, a full church at their backs. Mark was the best man, in the way that these things are done, and so Owen had to wait that much longer to touch her. To whisper to her. He took Lexie's arm and they followed behind Cristina and Mark, and he allowed himself to be driven crazy by the back of her neck. Her thick dark curls were pulled up into a low bun, revealing an expanse of skin from the base of her hairline to well below her shoulders.

In the lobby Derek picked Meredith up and swung her around, and they laughed some more. Mark turned and took Lexie off of his arm, and Owen moved in next to Cristina. He put a hand to her back, just needing to touch her. She smiled up at him, and everything was right.

There were post-ceremony shots of tequila, and pictures, and a caravan to the reception site, and during all of it Owen grinned like a fool, because he was moving in with Cristina tomorrow.

They danced at the reception, and they did it well. He already knew how to dance, but Meredith had asked the wedding party to take lessons, and though she billed it as a bonding experience for everyone it only took one group lesson before he started questioning whether the lessons were for the sole benefit of Lexie Grey, who had two left feet.

When it came time for them to dance, he nearly dragged her out onto the floor, he was so happy to have a reason to wrap his arms around her. She laughed and shook her head when he pulled her close, breathing in the scent of her as an unfamiliar version of 'My One and Only Love' filtered through the room.

"I've been waiting for this," he said into her hair, his eyes scanning the crowd. Addison Montgomery (leave it to Derek to beat the odds and have a friend in an ex-wife). Richard Webber had brought Adele. George had come, looking so much older, looking so much thinner, as if they didn't have a cafeteria at Mercy West. Dr. Wyatt. Callie Torres. Arizona Robbins. Alex Karev. Miranda Bailey. There had to be a skeleton staff on surgery tonight.

"Mmm," Cristina said, tilting her head slightly so that she was resting against him. "Me too. You look hot."

Owen chuckled. "I don't want to talk about how you look," he said. "I don't even want to think about how you look. I want to take you somewhere private and hike up that dress."

"I think people would notice if we left," she said, stepping closer to him.

Owen shrugged, "They'd notice more if I pressed you up against the wall and made love to you right here."

Cristina shook with silent laughter, moving her hands up around his neck, pulling her head back to look into his eyes.

"They'd really notice if I slid my hand inside your panties and made you--"

Cristina shushed him, but felt a rush of warmth throughout her body, and his breath hot on her ear. She didn't have to look at him to know he was grinning mischeviously.

"Just a few more hours and we can go home. To our home."

He kissed her lightly on the lips. "To our bed," he agreed.

"Or our walls," she teased.

"Maybe our shower," he suggested.

"No," Cristina shook her head, "the tux is a rental, they'll charge us extra if it comes back wet."

"Smart ass ," Owen laughed out loud, squeezing her to him. "Tell me you love me."

"Tell me you'll marry me," she countered, resting her head against his shoulder. Owen stilled, and held his breath. "Not now, and not like—"she paused, and motioned to the room, "not like this. Something small. Something just for us."

He didn't speak, couldn't speak. And he wondered absently how many post-ceremony shots of tequila she'd had, but she didn't sound drunk.

"And I don't know about babies, yet," she continued. "I don't know if I want that, Owen." She couldn't look at him. Couldn't stand to see the disappointment on his face. She wished she didn't have to hear his answer when she asked, "Would you still marry me if I don't know if I'll ever want that?" Because she knew without a doubt that she could marry him, and would. And she would be happy to marry this man, though if she could do it without some big production of a wedding she would be even happier.

"Of course I will. I already promised you forty years, didn't I?" He stopped himself from making a joke, telling her that technically, he could only guarantee thirty-nine now, because she'd used one already. But he didn't want to make light of what was happening, and so he just rested his chin on the top of her head and kept dancing.

She pulled away from him, worked at getting a look at his face, to see if he looked as upset as she expected him too. But he didn't. He didn't look upset at all. She took a breath, "But your list. You said-"

He shook his head. "It's you, Cristina. You're my list."

She searched his eyes as she nodded. And maybe she believed him, but most likely she didn't. Most likely she would need convincing. But they had time enough for that.

"Don't you have something to tell me?" he prompted, and she smiled.

"I love you."

A/N: Thank you all for your reviews. I know a lot of you were looking forward to this story continuing on about them living together, but that's just not this story (which actually turned into something more even than "a weekend"). This is not to say I won't write that story—just that I don't want to drag this story out (especially since technically could have ended with the last chapter, since this one is kind of pointless fluff). Anyway, thank you thank you thank you for your feedback, which is very much appreciated.