They left Dr Wyatt's office in a somber mood, and silently walked towards the elevators. After Owen pressed the "up" button, he started to chuckle.
"What?" Cristina frowned at him. Where was the humor? She'd just been told to expect to go without sex until he started to talk, really talk. And Owen Hunt was not a talker. There was nothing funny about their situation at all.
"'Honey'?" He grinned at her. "You called me 'honey' in our session."
"I ... thought it would help establish how close we are," she grumbled. "So we could go do the nasty over lunch."
His face fell. "I'm sorry. I'm ... I don't know ... how ..."
The change in his expression saddened her. He'd had so little to smile about while he battled his demons, and George's death had been an extra blow. She yearned to be supportive during these dark days, so that she could see him smile more. And wake up to him naked in her bed. The best would be waking up to him smiling and naked in her bed.
Cristina reached out and grabbed his hand. "It's okay. 'Sweetheart'."
Owen's eyes twinkled. "Okay ... 'sugar plum'."
She elbowed him playfully. "Knock that shit off. 'Schnookums'."
He grinned, the kind of smile that made her feel heat all the way to her toes, and she felt that they were going to be okay after all.