A/N: This takes place after Sloan unsuccessfully attempts to pick up Cristina. A little chat between Owen and Cristina ;)

Green Monster

Owen Hunt had a few choice thoughts about Seattle Grace. First off, the teaching was shit. Residents barely tolerated their interns. Interns acted like children. The attendings were unprofessional. Chief Webber pretended to be blissfully unaware. And that Mark Sloan was a jackass.

He had flirted ostentatiously with Cristina Yang in his OR. His OR. He told himself that it was the unprofessionalism that made him so irate. It had nothing to do with the object of Sloan's pointed remarks. Nothing to do with her calculating eyes and haphazard buns. No, that was not it at all. He resented those who could not separate work from play. This was a hospital. It was a job. Flirtations and foreplay had no role in the hospital, and especially not in the OR.

His temper had settled by the time he found himself alone in the supply closet with Cristina. She was searching for some bandages and he took the spot beside her, rifling through gauze.

"So," he said slowly. "Are you and Sloan seeing each other?"

She looked up at him sharply and he thought to himself that in this moment, he had gone right down to their level. Below, in fact, because he was hoping-no praying-that she would say no. Unprofessional. This place was playing with his head.

"Is this some joke?" she spat.

"No, just a simple question."

"You ignore me all day and then decide to finally speak and ask if I'm dating Sloan?" He didn't understand her anger and nodded. Yes, that was exactly what he was doing. It was ridiculous, but he had to know. "No," she said, shaking her head in a huff. "I'm not seeing Sloan. Wouldn't in a million years."

"Oh."

"And why would you even think that?" she demanded, glaring at him in a manner that somehow made him want to laugh. She was just so cute when she looked like she wanted to kill him.

"Sloan has been flirting with you all day," he explained easily. "I just assumed…"

"He has not been flirting with me," Cristina said, rolling her eyes. "I am the last person Sloan would flirt with."

"Well, today you were the only."

Cristina turned toward him sharply and hissed, "Where do you get off thinking you know everything, Dr. Hunt? I've worked with these people for years-"

"And I am a guy," he interjected. "And therefore know when another of my kind is trying to get into a woman's pants."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're wrong."

"No," he said slowly, "I am very much correct."

Cristina set her mouth into a firm line. Her eyes clearly showed a challenge, but she saw a similar rigidity mirrored in Owen's eyes. There was no moving him, and Cristina was finding the supply closet feeling smaller and smaller as he inched closer throughout their debate. She wanted-needed-to get out. "I'm not remotely interested in him," she said with finality. "And that is the end of this."

She found her bandages and plucked them from the plastic container, turning on her heel. As her hand found the doorknob and she turned it down and opened the door she heard Owen say behind her, "I'm glad you're not."

She didn't turn around, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the textbook emotions of surprise, confusion, and finally pleasure pass over her face. He wanted to play hot-and-cold, and she would play her part as well.

While she didn't turn, Owen noticed the way her shoulders had tensed ever so slightly. The door closed and he was alone, unable to remember exactly what he had gone to the supply closet for in the first place. He looked around, shaking his head slightly.

A few weeks at Seattle Grace, and he had already become one of them.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it!