"You brought me – camping." Cristina stares in disbelief at the battered cottage before her. "You said this was a beach trip." I'm never going on one of his "surprise" outings again.

"This isn't camping," Owen scoffs, unloading his truck. "The cottage has running water and electricity. That's not camping. And there is a private beach just behind those trees."

"It's not a hotel," she says, looking at the rough yard around them. "How did you find this place?"

"It belongs to a friend of mine."

Owen pulls out a set of keys and unlocks the front door. He opens it for Cristina, who walks in, nose wrinkled at the sparse and aged furniture.

"I know it's not fancy, but it's private and we both need a quiet weekend," he says, wrapping his arms around her. "You can go without room service, I hope."

She leans into his embrace. He is right about needing a quiet weekend. Work has been insane lately, and they've both been working extra long shifts and barely seeing each other.

"Who needs room service with you around?" She kisses him.

"I see you're finally warming up to the idea of letting me pamper you all I want," he laughs. She smiles and kisses him again.

"Beach, huh? We should take advantage of this sunshine while it lasts."

"Let me finish unloading the truck," he smiles.

Soon enough, he's guiding her along a rough path through the trees, to a small but private beach. She raises her eyebrows at the driftwood and seaweed, but says nothing. She is used to carefully maintained beaches, but suspects she's already come across as more of a city girl than she wants to. This will do, she tells herself.

Owen carefully helps her clear away ocean debris so she can lie down on a towel. He strips off his t-shirt and digs in his bag for a bottle of sunblock. "Do my back?"

"With pleasure." She slathers lotion on his broad, muscled back, with slow, languid movements. If the women at work knew what was under his scrubs, I'd spend all day fending them off.

"I thought you wanted to take advantage of the weather," he laughs.

"Fine," she chuckles, handing him the bottle. She pulls off her cover-up, and he whistles at her bikini, before applying lotion all over her body. Once she's taken care of, he quickly finishes applying sunblock to himself, then heads out to the water.

She shakes her head and sits down on the blanket, watching Owen swim in the ocean for a while. He looks more relaxed than he has for weeks. She sends a silent thanks to Dr Wyatt, then she settles herself on the blanket, deciding to leave her medical journal in her bag and to just enjoy the warm sun.

She doesn't realize she'd dozed off, until Owen gently shakes her shoulder. He's leaning over her, dripping wet. "I'm going to head back and start supper. Do you want to come with or stay here?"

"Stay here," she murmurs, turning over. "Come get me before supper?"

"Okay," he laughs and grabs his bag, leaving her.

I definitely needed this, she thinks contentedly, drifting off again.

He wakes her again. "Have a good nap?"

"The best," she sighs, as he helps her up. They gather her things and head back to the cottage.

"Smells good," she says, when they get back to the cottage, where something is being grilled on the small barbecue on the deck. "Are we dressing casual for supper?"

"We are," he chuckles, gesturing to his t-shirt and jeans. "I left my tux at home."

She snorts and slaps his ass before heading off for a quick shower. She opens the door to the bathroom and makes a face. The best that she can say about it is that it is clean, and does have running water.

Cristina smiles in surprise when she steps back into the main room of the cottage, dressed in a casual top and jeans. Owen has set the table and lit a candle.

"Your supper awaits," he smiles, bowing formally. She steps in for a quick kiss, before he pulls out her chair and she sits down.

He brings the food to the table.

"Mmm, steak," she murmurs. "Let me guess, with your special marinade?"

"You know it," he grins. He opens a bottle of white wine and pours it into two wine glasses. She raises her glass.

"To us," she says looking directly into his warm blue eyes.

He smiles. "To us."

After supper, he cleans up while she settles on the battered couch with a medical journal. "Be right back," he says mysteriously before disappearing outside.

Engrossed in her reading, she barely notices how long he's been gone, until he comes back and the sky is dark.

"I have a surprise for you outside," he says. "And you might want to put on a sweater." He pulls on a sweatshirt.

"Where are we going?" she frowns, looking outside. "It's too dark for a walk."

"You'll see," Owen smiles mysteriously. She sighs and digs out her Stanford sweatshirt. She looks at him and smirks. "What?"

"You forgot to put sunblock on your ears," she says. "They're as red as your hair."

He grins bashfully. "Tomorrow, you'll have to apply the sunblock then."

"Deal." She smiles as he takes her by the hand and leads her outside, using a flashlight to head back to the beach.

She frowns when she sees a pile of sleeping bags and blankets. "We're – not going to sleep on the beach are we?"

"No," he laughs. "I don't think you like roughing it that much. But it could get cold. Sit there, and I'll start a fire." He crouches by a pile of wood that he's set up.

She patiently sits on the sleeping bags and watches him light the fire. She smiles at the sight of the warm light colouring Owen's face and hair. I sure got lucky with that man, she thinks to herself.

"Okay," he says, walking over to her. "That will help keep us warm." He lies down on a sleeping bag and she snuggles next to him, pulling a blanket over them for warmth.

"We're going to make out on the beach?" she asks hopefully.

"Absolutely," he says. "But look up first." He points to the sky.

"That's beautiful." She sees a brilliant starry sky, like she hasn't seen since her Girl Scout days.

"It's the middle of August. The height of the Perseid meteor shower," he says softly. "We can see it clearly out here, without the city lights."

"Oh!" she says. "You think of everything."

He laughs. "I didn't plan the meteor shower or the weather, but thanks."

It doesn't take long for them to spot the first falling star.

"Make a wish," she whispers, feeling like a young girl for a fleeting second.

"Already got mine," he whispers back, holding her hand. "You're here with me."

Cristina smiles in the dark. They spend the next couple of hours watching the sky, pointing out meteors, in between kisses.

"Fire's dying down," Owen observes, sitting up.

"Build it back up," Cristina suggests, sitting up with him.

"You don't want to go back inside, city girl?" he teases.

"No," she smiles, pulling off her sweatshirt and kicking off her shoes. "Not yet."

Owen smiles and adds more wood to the fire, while she pulls off her clothes under the blanket.

"We couldn't do this if we went to a hotel," he laughs, disrobing.

"Wanna bet?" She crooks a finger at him suggestively.

He smirks and joins her under the blanket. "I know better than to bet against you."

"Smart man." She pushes him down so that he's lying on his back, and slides on top of him, revelling in the feeling of being naked with him. She will never get tired of his skin. She kisses him, exploring his mouth lazily as his hands stroke and squeeze her ass, before moving to her breasts.

She smiles and raises herself slightly, moving forward to position her breasts over his head. He growls appreciatively and starts to suck on a nipple. One of his hands slowly travels down her belly, coming to a rest where his fingers can work their magic inside of her. She gasps as his thumb finds her clit, gently teasing.

She grasps his head, letting him know just how much she's enjoying his attention. She feels him smile against her breast, and clenches around his fingers.

"Feels so good," she murmurs. She likes how much he takes care to please her, how he never has to ask what she wants, he simply knows. She opens her eyes and smiles to realize that only Owen Hunt could bring her to a deserted beach to make love under falling stars. He just gets me, she thinks happily, curling her toes.

She raises herself up again, to his surprise, and pushes herself down his body, gently impaling herself on his erection. She places her hands on both sides of his face and whispers,"I love you", then kissing him tenderly. He bends his knees, and his hips start to move languidly as she feels him smile beneath her mouth, tickling her face with his beard. She moans as his fingers find their way back to her clit.

"You are so amazing," he says huskily, his free hand stroking the small of her back. They rock back and forth, slowly loving each other. She finds the rhythm of the ocean waves hypnotic, the sound accompanied by their moans and sighs. He carefully, almost lazily, teases her to the brink several times, until she lets out a small whimper.

"Love you," he whispers in her ear, increasing the pressure of his fingers, until she cries out in pleasure. He keeps the pressure steady as he joins her in a shared release, and she thinks she might possibly die from the waves of throbbing heat he's creating.

Finally, she collapses against him, blissed out. She buries her head in the crook of his head and shoulder and sighs happily. She lays a hand across his chest and he grasps it, threading his fingers through hers. His other hand starts to stroke her hair as they lie there in the starlight.

Eventually, they become aware that the fire has died, and the night air has turned chilly. She burrows down under the blanket, as he pulls it higher to cover them both.

"Want to go back?" Owen asks quietly.

"Nope," she murmurs, snuggling closer. "I just want to stay here all weekend."

"On the beach?" he laughs.

"Wherever," Cristina shrugs. "As long as I get my wish."

"Your wish?"

"Mm-hmm. I made a wish earlier."

He laughs softly. "Which was?"

"To spend a nice quiet weekend with the love of my life," she sighs. Then she quickly adds, "having lots of hot sex."

"You are such a romantic," he laughs, leaning over and kissing her. "But don't worry, I'll never tell anyone you said something mushy."

"Nobody would believe you," she mutters. "Except Meredith. Maybe."

"It'll be our secret," he promises, stroking her face. "Now about that wish …"