Work Text:
Cristina was supposed to be at the hospital. She had traded with Mer for on-call duty because she wanted to get some extra hours in while Hahn was off the clock. The other cardio attendings let her do way more than a junior resident was supposed to do, because she was excellent and everyone knew it. Everyone except for Hahn, maybe.
She had been actively scrubbing in for surgery when the Chief had burst into the scrub room to inform her that she was being sent home effective immediately for breaking his new—or newly enforced—rules: junior residents cannot de facto specialize, and no one was to go over the 80-hour-maximum work week. Technically she had broken both.
So now Cristina was trudging her building’s stairs up to her apartment floor at midnight, moping and hoping Callie didn’t have Hahn over for one of their stupid girl nights. She didn’t speak girl. Plus, it’s not like Hahn would actually give her the time of day even if she did. Hahn hated Burke; Cristina almost married Burke; Hahn hated Cristina. Simple transitive property.
She finally reached her apartment, unlocking the door and letting herself in. She was halfway through the threshold when a loud moan came from the direction of Callie’s room.
Shit. Guess that’s what I get for not telling Callie I was coming home, she thought. And it sounds like they didn’t hear me come in…and like they didn’t fully closed Callie’s door. She wondered briefly who the new guy was; as far as she and the rest of the hospital were aware, she and Sloan had stopped sleeping together, but Callie hadn’t been seen with any of the other Seattle Grace men, either. The only person she was really ever seen with lately was Dr. Hahn, which made Cristina more than a little jealous—something that she would never admit to anyone, not even Meredith. It was pathetic and embarrassing, having developed a crush on the same woman who had accused her of sleeping her way to the top.
Maybe whatever guy was in there with Callie was just some rando she found at Joe’s. Whoever it was was apparently doing an excellent job, if Callie’s moans were anything to go by.
Regardless, it was not Cristina’s business. She wanted a shower and a snack and her bed, preferably in that order. She was on her way to grab some pajamas out of her room when she heard something that made her freeze in her tracks. She briefly wondered if she was hallucinating. Maybe the Chief had been right; maybe being dead on her feet from pushing 100 hours at work this week was affecting her mind more than she realized…but that line of thinking was put to rest when she heard it again.
“Fuck, Callie.”
Cristina would know that voice anywhere. Not some rando from Joe’s, then. That was Erica Hahn’s voice. Cristina’s feet began stealthily creeping over to Callie’s door without her ever making the conscious decision to move. The door was slightly ajar. She cautiously peered into the room, unaware she was holding her breath. Her brain was pulling every alarm at its disposal, but was wholly unable to force her traitorous, unwilling feet to move away from the door—so she stayed. And watched.
Erica Hahn sat propped against the dark wooden headboard, naked. Her eyes were closed, hair tousled, tits bouncing to the pace set by the fingers and tongue of the woman between her legs. One of her hands was roughly fisted in Callie’s hair, the other gripping the headboard.
The scene before her didn’t look all that different from the fantasies Cristina had indulged in every night as she fell asleep for the last several months. The only difference was that in her fantasies, it was her between Erica’s legs instead of Callie. Once again, Cristina was struck with intense jealousy of her roommate, who apparently was not only hanging out with Dr. Hahn, but also actively fucking her, too. And doing a pretty good job of it, based on Erica’s keening.
She couldn’t make herself move. All she could do was keep watching from the doorway. She continued to watch until finally Erica opened her eyes and met her gaze. Cristina could only stare back helplessly, bracing for Erica to scream and alert Callie to her crazy roommate’s sex-stalking. Except.
Except that’s not what was happening. Erica Hahn simply tilted her head and squinted her eyes in silent appraisal of the woman cowering in the doorframe. She was smirking, honest-to-G-d smirking as she tightened her grip on the fist of Callie’s raven hair to keep her firmly in place. Erica moaned openly; Cristina bit her lip to suppress her own.
“Touch yourself,” Erica commanded. An unsuspecting Callie assumed she was talking to her; she snaked the hand not buried inside Erica’s cunt down to her own. But Cristina knew that the command wasn’t meant for Callie. She was standing in full view of Erica now. As if caught in a trance, Cristina slowly slid one hand past the elastic band of her scrubs. She gasped at the first brush of her fingertips against her clit, but the sound was drowned out by Erica’s own escalating moans.
“Faster,” Erica panted, and both Callie and Cristina obeyed.
Cristina’s knees began to feel weak. She used her free hand to hold herself up against the doorframe as she fucked herself in front of the Head of Cardio while an oblivious Callie stayed buried between her thighs.
Cristina had brilliant hands, hands that could do intricate surgical work far beyond the skill level of an average junior resident. Her fingers were strong but delicate, and she used their surgical precision to get her right where she needed to be; where Erica Hahn needed her to be.
Erica’s cries as she came, the way her chest and face bloomed in rosy patches, her hips stuttering forward of their own accord, the entire picture was more than enough to push Cristina over the edge. She followed Erica’s orgasm with her own, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood in her need to stay silent.
Callie crawled up to Erica’s chest to settle against her, keeping her eyes closed in contentment, still fully unaware of the third person in the room. As Cristina steadied herself and shamefully removed her hand from her pants, she met Erica’s eyes once more.
“Good girl,” Erica said softly. And although her hand was in Callie’s hair, gently scratching her scalp, Cristina knew the praise was for her, too. She blushed and ducked her head, silently leaving Callie’s doorframe.
Cristina silently retraced her steps to the front door, opened it, then made a point to shut it loud enough for Callie to hear.
“I’m home!” she yelled.
She ignored the giggling and whispers that preceded Callie’s own door snicking shut. She didn’t know what the repercussions for what just happened would be, but she was too tired to worry over it tonight. Shower, snack, bed, she told herself once more, heading towards the bathroom. Whatever Hahn decided her punishment for this would be, she knew it would be delicious.