I don't own Body of Proof and intend no copyright infringement.
A/N: this is a collaboration with cedricsowner. Without her input this story would be much shorter and not nearly as good.
With a heartfelt groan Tommy Sullivan closed the door to his apartment behind him. For a moment he sagged against the wall, too exhausted to move any further. Their latest case had left him cold, wet and sore as hell.
Was he getting too old for this? Right now he definitely felt like it.
Wearily he pulled himself together and trudged over to the bathroom. As he dropped his soggy clothes in an untidy heap on the bathroom floor, his eyes fell on a small object sitting on the rim of his bathtub. He picked it up and squeezed it, thinking that he could really, really do with one of Megan's patented back rubs right now… alas, after the stunt he had pulled in the restaurant they couldn't be anything but a vague dream in the foreseeable future. A hot bath would have to do.
As soon as the tub was filled he climbed in and sank into the steaming hot water. Closing his eyes, he reveled in the feeling of soothing heat soaking into his skin and relaxing tense, aching muscles.
The doorbell rang.
He thought about ignoring it… for about two seconds. Then the doorbell rang again. And again.
Only one person in the world could ring a doorbell like that… The same person who would kick the door in with her overpriced Jimmy sandal or whatever shoes if he didn't open it within the next five seconds…
There was no helping it, he needed to…
"About time", she snapped at him as he let her in, dripping soapy bathwater all over his carpet. Of course she paid no attention at all to the towel around his hips or his after twenty years still well-defined chest muscles that he was, well yeah, rather proud of.
"We need to talk about the case again", she demanded, stomping past him towards his living-room.
"Give me a sec, will you?" He gestured at his skimpy loincloth and headed towards his bedroom.
Snickering at his modesty, Megan sat down in one of Tommy's armchairs.
Not for long, though. Her eyes followed the dark stains dripping Tom had left on his carpet. The door to the bathroom was ajar. She could see the tub, the foam… and an unusual pattern of droplets and small puddles that were too far away from the tub to stem from him climbing out of the water.
She got up, glanced at the bedroom door behind which Tom was apparently still busy getting dressed… and decided what the hell. A second later she was crouching on Tom's bathroom floor, inspecting the narrow space between his towel cabinet and the wall. Wedged in between there, still wet, was a small rubber duck.
It wasn't a common rubber duck… this was one of those special makes, a rubber duck in green surgery garb. Megan turned the duck in her hand for a moment, then carefully put it back, just in time to not get caught by Tommy returning from his bedroom.
"You look like you strained your deltoid muscle. Lie down. On your couch. Prone position."
Tommy could just stare at her.
"Injuries of the deltoid muscle can have long lasting effects on the skeletal and locomotor system. I need you intact to crack that goddamn case. Now take off that shirt."
Tom decided not to check if this was real or if he simply had fallen asleep in the tub. Dream or not, this was far from vague...
Quickly he took off his shirt and stretched out on the couch before she could change her mind.