I do not own any rights to these characters or the story of Covert Affairs. No material gain is intended or sought.

Auggie woke up with a splitting headache. It was the first thing he felt-that blinding pain that so clearly said "yeah, dumbass, you drank way too much". One small benefit of being blind was that bright lights no longer bothered him. Even so, he stifled a moan and buried his head back into the soft pillow.

The soft...? Why does my pillow feel... Why does my pillow smell of citrus?

Self-preservation instincts and a hearty measure of extreme panic had Auggie sitting bolt-upright in bed. He ignored the lurching of his stomach and the feeling of his brain sloshing around in his skull.

How the HELL did I end up in Annie Walker's bed?

He tried, he really did, to remember the details of the previous evening. He was distracted, though, by the realization that he was shirtless.

Hmm, still have my pants on. Does that mean I passed out before I could get all of my clothes off, or that Annie took my shirt but balked at stripping me completely? Which of those two options do I want to be true?

"Hey." She whispered the greeting, bless her. Soft, long fingered, hands wrapped around his. He felt the cool surface of a drinking glass pressed into one palm. Into the other, she slipped two caplets. "Water and aspirin."

While he drank, he felt her gently stroke his hair off his forehead. He tried not to lean into that comforting touch, he really did, but it just felt so damn good.

"You probably want a shower, but I don't have any clothes for you. Come eat some breakfast and I'll take you to your place."

He was beginning to wake up and remember more of the previous evening. As she took his hand and led him away from the bed he tugged her to a stop.

"Oh, please don't hurl on me."

The pleading note in her voice made him grin. "Aw, what kind of friend are you?" Sobering quickly, he asked, "Bathroom?"

She came back to collect him once he exited her bathroom. He'd taken the time to splash water on his face. It helped focus him. When she took his hand again he pulled her against his—still bare—chest. With a dip of his head he pressed his lips against her hairline.

"Thanks."

Annie patted his arm. "You're welcome. Come eat, ok?"

He didn't move, but tightened his grip around her waist and shoulders. "Agent Walker, where are we?"

Her exasperated sigh puffed out across his skin. "Since you're using that sanctimonious tone, I think you know where we are. I didn't want to leave you alone at your place, and I wasn't going to drag you back to the guest house. Danielle would never let me hear the end of it."

"She might if you'd left me clothed."

"Hey!" She slugged him, lightly, in the arm and tried to pull away. "You reeked of airplanes and tequila. I wasn't letting you in my bed with that disgusting shirt on."

He quirked a brow. "My pants don't smell?"

"I didn't smell your pants!"

He was fully grinning by this point. He slid his hands up her arms to cup her flushed cheeks. "My head hurts too much, and I'm too happy to hear your voice, to argue with you. But, this discussion about bringing me to your safe house is not over—understood?

"I should have burned your bacon."

"There's bacon? Why are we standing here? Feed me, woman."

She sat him at the table, handed him utensils, and put a full plate of food in front of him. Then she sat down next to him. He reached over and found her hand. He held it in his left while he shoveled food into his mouth with his right.

Annie whispered, "Welcome home, Auggie." She smiled softly, blinking away tears, when he squeezed her fingers.