Disclaimer - Grey's Anatomy belong to ABC not me

A/N - As a rule, when he showers with a woman, he's naked... is it so wrong to have that phrase going round and round in your head?? (I find writing intimate scenes a bit of a challenge, so I hope this works) Reviews are very gratefully received.

Even with the heater in the car blasting out, Cristina couldn't stop herself from shivering. The chilly rain seem to have seeped right into her bones.

Owen glanced across at her occasionally, concerned. When they reached an intersection, he unclipped his seat-belt and swivelled round to reach under the back seat for an old sweater that he kept stored away to wear after he'd been running. He scowled at it for a moment, wondering if he could get away with sniffing it to check how clean it was but decided that he was pretty sure he had only put it on once since its last wash.

With an apologetic shrug and a half smile he dropped it in her lap.

Cristina raised an eyebrow and then nodded towards the road where the lights had changed and the traffic was moving again.

"They're waiting." She noted as the cars in the queue behind them started to beep their horns.

"So?"Owen's blue eyes remained serious and he made no effort to move off until Cristina started to pull the sweater, which had US ARMY in bold lettering on the front, over her head with a sigh.

Cristina appreciated the gesture even though she wouldn't admit it out loud. She also knew that Owen noticed her snuggling deeper into the voluminous sweater and had taken that, and the simple fact of her acceptance, as a thank you. They'd never been ones to waste words on the obvious and their journey through Seattle's traffic continued in companionable silence.

As they swung onto Owen's street, Cristina glanced at herself in the mirror and winced. The hot air from the heaters might not have been doing a very good job of warming her up but it had dried out her damp hair and she was now sporting a wild halo of frizzy curls.

As she tried to smooth the worst of it out, she caught Owen's smirk in the corner of her eye.

"Laugh and you're a dead man." She informed him.

Owen said nothing, but eased the car into a space on the precipitous slope outside his apartment. Once the car was secure, he leant across and laced his fingers through Cristina's unruly hair, gently taming it back into some semblance of order before pulling her in for a lingering kiss, his fingers still playing with the tendrils that framed her face.

After a long moment, they pulled apart and both smiled.

"Never cut your hair," Owen said wistfully as he coiled the dark strands around his fingers.

Cristina mock-frowned and then reached over to scrape her nails lightly through his beard, "Never lose the beard then."

Owen rubbed his cheek against her palm and asked in slight surprise, "You like it?"

Cristina nodded slowly.

"You never said."

She shrugged in response, "It suits you," she paused, "plays hell with my skin, but it's worth it."

Owen shook his head slightly in bemusement, his blue eyes intent on hers, "Let's get inside."

The rain was still falling and they sprinted the short distance along the sidewalk to Owen's front door.

It took a moment for Owen to find his key and Cristina tried to huddle in the meagre shelter of the doorway while she waited, gradually getting soaked again. Finally he pulled the key out of the correct pocket triumphantly and pushed open the door.

As always, the place was tidy. Too many years in the army had ensured that everything had a place and was almost always to be found in that place. It had amused Cristina to shock him out of his neat-freak routine when he came round to her place and she thought he had become a bit less anal about it. Mind you if she was honest, she would probably admit that she actually made a bit of an effort with tidying up these days.

They stripped off their damp shoes, socks and outer layers before padding, barefoot, into the apartment. Owen gathered up their coats and put them out to dry on the back of chairs in the kitchen, waving Cristina through to the living room.

Cristina loved Owen's place with its muted colour scheme and fantastically comfortable leather sofas. She trailed along the edge of the room looking at his bookcase, picking out volumes that she'd given him and some of the favourites that he'd introduced her to. She smiled as her gaze landed on a small collection of photos.

Owen and her hiking in Paradise, high on Mount Rainier, the glacier in the distance.

Her and Owen wearing dry suits and sat on the edge of a dive boat. She tilted her head on one side wondering once again how he'd persuaded her to take up that particular activity.

A very young looking Owen in dress uniform, with his parents clearly proud of him at his passing out ceremony for his AMEDD Officer's Basic Leaders Course at Fort Sam.

Several of Owen standing in groups of uniformed personnel in desert and jungle environments. They were all Forward Surgical Teams, and, by definition, in harm's way but the images seemed to suggest an easy camaraderie. Cristina stiffened suddenly as she realised that there was a new photo in the collection, and she recognised his arms-folded, ready-for-anything stance from before. She knew exactly which Unit this one was and blinked rapidly as she took in the smiling faces ranged alongside him, all gone now.

She sensed movement in the doorway and turned to find Owen watching her solemnly, his eyes clouded.

Neither said anything, but Cristina walked over and pulled him close, Owen wrapped his arms tightly around her and buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent.

Cristina's hands were gently insistent as they stroked his hair.

They stood like that for uncounted minutes, neither speaking but offering solace without words.

Gradually Owen relaxed his grip as realised that Cristina was still shivering slightly.

"You still need to warm up." He observed, his blue eyes clear once again.

She inclined her head, "Shower?"

The look in his eyes turned mischievous, "Is that an offer?"

"Are you making a request?" She replied, her palm pressed against his chest.

"Maybe."

"That's hardly..." before Cristina could finish her sentence his mouth was on hers and she was sighing into his kiss.

Her eyes drifted closed and she was losing herself in the sensations his tongue was creating her hands playing with the short hair at the back of his neck, when her world started to tilt.

Her eyes shot open and her hold around Owen's neck tighted as she realised that he was lifting her up and carrying her towards the bathroom.

"Work for you?" He asked, as he shouldered the door roughly aside.

Cristina nodded mutely and then grabbed his shoulders and pulled their mouths back together as he set her down gently on the floor.

Owen pulled away from the kiss long enough to reach back with one arm to turn on the shower, then he turned his attention back to Cristina and trailing a line of kisses along her neck. He was gratified to rediscover a sensitive spot just below her ear, which had her arching against him and pressing him back against the glass of the shower stall.

Cristina tugged at the edge of his t-shirt, her hands disappearing under the fabric to stoke the flat expanse of his stomach. She smiled at his sharp intake of breath, dropping her hand lower to skim the skin along the edge of his belt.

That touch was enough for Owen, his hands moved from cupping her face to peel off her top with greedy haste, desperate to feel her skin. He tossed the top to one side and shrugged out of his own t-shirt, his eyes never leaving hers as she stood in her lacy bra before him. Then he pulled her flush against him, her breasts pressed against his chest.

Their hands roamed across the newly revealed skin and Owen's nuzzling kisses were soon tracing their way along her collar bone and along the line of the bra. His tongue flicking out lazily to reach under the fabric and tease ever more sensitive spots.

Cristina found herself grinding against him and wishing they were rid of the encumbrance of the rest of their clothes.

A few ineffective tugs at his belt and Owen got the idea, he lifted her effortlessly once more and sat her on the edge of the counter, unbuckling her belt and easing her jeans over her hips and onto the floor, before casting off his own.

Clad only in their underwear, softened by the billowing steam from the still running shower, their gazed locked. Owen's eyes were darker than usual, but thoroughly intent as they asked her silent permission.

Cristina's answer was to wrap her legs around his hips, one hand resting on his bicep, the other in his hair, pulling him closer.

Owen didn't need a second invitation, one hand on her ass and the other speared in her hair he walked her to the shower.

They paused for a moment to shed their remaining clothes, then stepped inside hand in hand.