Title: The List
Author: Steph
Rating: PG
Pairing: Robin/Patrick
Category: Humor/Romance/Good Old-Fashioned Fluff
POV: Robin
Disclaimer: I do this out of a love for this couple. No infringement is intended.
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: Patrick helps Robin complete the things on her list that she wants to do in her life. (Sequel to 'How to Get a Player to Commit')

Note: Thanks for the feedback! I'm going to number each part as To Do # 1, To Do # 2, and so on. This is just the order they're doing the list. The numbers don't coincide with the numbered activities on her list. I hope that doesn't get confusing, but the story won't necessarily go in order of the list and some of the activities have already been done. Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph

--- The List: To Do # 1 - Visit a Nude Beach ---

Patrick sighs in agitation as I stuff a book in my large beach tote, which is already overflowing. He's been blowing out little breaths of air and tapping his foot behind me for the last ten minutes. I'm surprised he's kept quiet this long.

"We're going to a nude beach. Why is it you need so much stuff?"

Guess he just couldn't take it anymore.

I turn and look at him. "You still need stuff when you go the beach, Patrick. What are you bringing?"

He smiles, dimple in full effect, as he holds up a bottle of sunscreen in his right hand and points at his mouth with his left.

"This and a smile."

I arch an eyebrow. "That's it? What about a towel?"

"I air dry," he replies, eyes twinkling.

"What if you want to sit on the sand?"

"Then I'll sit on the sand."

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when you find sand in places sand has no business being weeks from now."

He takes a few steps toward me and wraps his arms around his waist. "Well, if that happens when we're doing number 19, then I really don't care."

"We are not doing number 19 today. One thing at a time," I say as firmly as I can manage, as I shake my head and tap my finger against his chest.

His lips turn downward. "Fine."

I slip out of his arms and turn around, picking my bag up by the handles. "All right, let's go."

---

"I think we're lost," I say, sighing quite dramatically.

"We're not lost."

"I'm pretty sure we're lost."

"We are not lost," he says through gritted teeth.

Why is it all men have trouble admitting when they're lost and refuse to ask for directions? Is it something in their genetic make-up? I think someone needs to do some research on this phenomenon if they haven't already. It's not my area of expertise or I'd do it myself.

I tap my finger against the MapQuest sheet I'm holding in my hand. "We were supposed to be at the beach in 2.3 miles from the last turn. We've driven at least five miles. I think you made a mistake before. You took the wrong turn. I told you I didn't think that was the right turn, but you wouldn't listen."

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched in concentration and agitation.

"It's a beach. You wouldn't think it would be too hard to spot," he mutters under his breath.

"If you're going in the wrong direction it will be," I reply pointedly.

He throws me an icy sideways glance, then turns his attention back to the road. All of the sudden his eyes widen and a smile spreads across his lips. He points at the windshield.

"There! Is that or is that not a beach!"

My lips curl into a frown. I don't get it. I was sure he'd made a mistake. I hate being wrong.

He turns right into the lot and pulls into a space. He then looks at me and rubs his hands together. "Anytime you're ready."

My eyebrows arch in confusion. "Anytime I'm ready for what?"

"Anytime you're ready to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"Yes, for doubting me."

I groan, but don't say a word.

"You would think by now you would have learned not to doubt me," he says with a grin.

I roll my eyes. "There's not enough room in this car for you, me, and your ego."

I then pull on the door handle and step outside. He follows a moment and comes to stand by my side.

He places his hands on hips and eyes me. "It's time. Let's strip."

I bite nervously at my bottom lip. "I don't think I can do it."

"Sure you can. I've seen you strip off your clothes before and you are quite skilled at it," he replies with a grin.

I slap his arm. "Not that. I mean, walking on the beach nude. Everyone's going to be looking at me."

"Robin, everyone's going to be nude. No one's going to pay any attention to you."

I arch an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight. When you're sitting on that beach, you're going to be oblivious to all of the beautiful, unclothed women walking past you?"

"I'll be so captivated by you that I won't notice anyone else."

"You're so full of it," I reply with a roll of my eyes, but can't help the smile pulling at my lips. The smile fades soon enough though. "I really don't think I want strange men leering at me."

"Are you calling me a strange man?"

"That's not what I meant."

"How about this? If I see a guy look at you, I'll punch him out."

I burst out laughing and have to cover my mouth to contain myself. The corners of his mouth turn downward.

"What was that for?"

"We both know you would never risk your precious hands."

He takes a step forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him. "Oh, we both know that, do we?"

"Yup."

He leans close to me, whispering in my ear. "Haven't you realized yet that I'd do anything for you?"

I feel my breath catch in my chest and I have to swallow hard. He pulls back and looks at me, smiling gently. "You know I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do. This is your list, Robin. If you don't want to do this, just say the word and we're out of here."

I chew on my bottom lip so hard I'm sure there will be a hole in it by the time I'm done.

He continues, his penetrating eyes focused on mine. "But let me just say this first. Sometimes you have to take a risk, take a chance. You took a chance on me and look what happened. You stepped outside your comfort zone and did some pretty uncharacteristic things."

"And I almost lost you because of it."

"You made me see what I could have with you and what I'd be giving up. I may not have liked how you went about it, but if you hadn't done it, then it may have taken us a year, or two or maybe five to get here. Or maybe we never would have. Who really knows? But you took a chance on me and made me see that we were worth taking a chance on." He smiles and brings his hand up to cup my cheek, "I think you've proven that when you take a chance, take a risk, and step outside your comfort zone, unexpectedly wonderful things can happen."

He then brings his lips down to mine, offering me a sweet, tender kiss. When he pulls back, he looks into my eyes. "So, what's it going to be?"

"Can I keep my eyes closed the whole time? I mean, even when we're walking?"

He smiles and nods. "I'll hold your hand and guide you along."

I smile, realizing that, for the first time in a long time, I have someone to hold my hand and help me through the tough times. I'd gotten so used to making it through everything on my own, that I'd forgotten how to let someone help me. I'd forgotten how much easier having the support of someone you love can make even the most difficult tasks.

"Okay," I say softly.

I look at him with wide eyes, realizing that while I was lost in thought, he stripped his shorts and t-shirt. I scan his lean, toned upper body and smile as my eyes make their way down further.

"You sure are fast. You seem to have stripping down to an art form."

"I've had a lot of practice."

I chuckle and shake my head. His gaze meets mine and my laugh subsides abruptly. His eyes twinkle and then scan the length of my body.

"Your turn."

"Patrick," I say, gnawing at my bottom lip again.

"Okay, okay," he says, bringing his hands to the bottom of my tank top. "I'd be happy to assist you."

I close my eyes. Here goes nothing.

What am I thinking? I should have my head examined. Stupid list. We couldn't have gone ballroom dancing? Oh no!

---

My hand is securely in Patrick's and I know he must love me because it's absolutely dripping with sweat and he's only tightened his grip as we walk. My eyes are squeezed shut. I can't bare to open them and see people's eyes on my body.

My brow furrows as I realize we've been walking for some time. Why doesn't he just find a spot and sit down? I'll feel much better once I'm not parading around in my birthday suit anymore.

I tug on his hand. "Uh, Patrick? Why are we still walking?"

There's a few moments of silence before he speaks reluctantly. "We have a problem."

My brow furrows. "What kind of problem?"

"Open your eyes."

"What? No!"

"Robin, open your eyes."

I sigh and slowly open one eye, then the other. Those now open eyes widen as I take in my surroundings. I stop dead in my tracks, still holding onto his hand, and nearly causing him to fall backwards.

"None of these people are nude!" I scream, as I glare at him.

"You're very observant."

I punch him in the arm. He yelps and grabs onto his arm, rubbing at it.

All eyes are on us. It was bad enough when I thought other nude people might look at me. But now I'm just a crazy naked woman being gawked at by appropriately dressed beach-goers. I wish the sand beneath my feet would just open up and swallow me. This is like those dreams you have when you show up to school or work naked. Except this is really happening!

I scowl at Patrick. "This is not a nude beach!"

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out."

"Why did you just keep walking then?"

"At first, I thought that maybe a section of the beach was designated nude, so I figured we should keep walking until we found it."

"There's no section, is there?" I say through clenched teeth.

He shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. "I think you may have been right before. I think we took a wrong turn and missed the one for the nude beach."

"We! We! We didn't do anything! You wouldn't listen to me! You and your ego decided that you were right and you wouldn't listen to a thing I said."

Patrick leans in close to me. "I know you're angry with me, but maybe we could save the arguing for when we get back to the car. Call me quirky, but I prefer to argue fully clothed."

He gestures to my body and I gasp, having momentarily forgotten that I am still nude. I quickly pull a towel out of my tote and wrap it securely around my body.

He looks at me expectantly.

"What?" I ask.

"Did you bring an extra towel by any chance?"

A grin spreads across my face. "What? You mean your sunscreen and gorgeous smile aren't meeting your current needs?"

He rolls his eyes. "You stuffed everything and the kitchen sink in that bag. You mean to tell me you didn't put another towel in there?"

"Why would I need two towels?" I ask, my grin now permanent.

He sighs and begins to stalk off in the direction we just came from. All of the sudden, I hear a whistle. Patrick stops in his tracks and turns around. I spin around, too. My eyes widen as I see a beach patrol officer walking towards us.

Oh, kill me now. Just kill me now.

Patrick comes to stand beside me.

"Let me do the talking," he whispers.

I scoff, saying out of the corner of my mouth. "You're still standing there nude. I think I should do the talking."

"I have a way with people," he mutters.

"You have a way with women. If this were a gorgeous twenty-two year old blonde coming towards us instead of a two hundred pound guy, I'd like your chances. I'm doing the talking."

He sighs. The patrol officer walks to us and removes his sunglasses. I see Patrick eye him and bite his lip to keep from laughing. He's wearing black spandex biking shorts and a navy t-shirt that says "Beach Patrol" in huge yellow letters across the front. He looks utterly ridiculous, but I don't think Patrick's in a position to throw stones.

I open my mouth to speak, but Patrick beats me to it. He grins. "I have a shirt just like that at home, except it says 'Bikini Patrol'."

I squeeze my eyes shut. What is wrong with him? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

The officer's face remains stone still. "We received some complaints about two people roaming the beach nude."

I smile and shrug my shoulders. "As you can see...uh, officer...I am not nude."

He looks at Patrick. "Well, you certainly are."

I look at Patrick. His mouth opens and I can see he's trying to figure out a way to convince the officer otherwise. Now Patrick is good at charm and persuasion, but he's not that good.

"Can't get anything past you," he finally replies.

"You're going to have to come with me, sir," the officer says to him.

My mouth drops open. Patrick's brow furrows and he laughs nervously. "Where are you taking me? Beach jail?"

The officer nods. "Yes, actually. You're in violation. Someone's going to have to bail you out."

"There's a beach jail!" Patrick says to no one in particular.

I know I should feel sorry for him, but I can't help but be amused. After all, he insisted on not bringing a towel, he got us lost and he wouldn't listen to me.

The officer takes Patrick by the arm. "Let's go."

Patrick turns to me with a pleading look. I simply smile and wave at him.

---

As much as I love the guy, I couldn't help but let him suffer for a little while. That ego of his needs a hit or two every so often. I put the bathing suit that I had hidden at the bottom of my bag on and went for a leisurely swim. After that, I got some lunch, then some ice cream. It was actually a very relaxing afternoon. Three hours later, I walk into 'Beach Jail' to bail him out.

Beach jail consists of a 5x5 cell with two chairs inside. I come to stand in front of the cell, a smile spread across my lips. Patrick's sitting next to a three hundred pound man with tattoos all over his body. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Patrick is no longer nude. Instead, he is wearing spandex biking shorts and a 'Beach Patrol' shirt.

"Good look for you," I manage to say.

He stands up and walks to me. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never forgive you."

I reach into my bag and pull out my camera. His mouth drops open and his eyes bulge out.

"Say, 'Beach Jail,'" I instruct.

He reaches in between the bars and tries to grab the camera, but I move out of his reach.

I smile and hold the camera up. "I won't have to tell anyone. A picture's worth a thousand words. Epiphany's going to love this."

Just then, an officer walks over and unlocks the cell. Patrick practically runs out.

He offers me a grimace, but slips his hand in mine. "Let's go."

I smile and wave goodbye to the officer.

---

"Three hours! Three hours!" Patrick says, as he pounds his fist on the steering wheel.

"Yes, I heard you the first fifty times," I say with a sigh.

"Why did you make me suffer like that?"

"To teach you a lesson. You weren't prepared, you couldn't admit that you got us lost, and you wouldn't listen to me."

He throws me a look. "You owe me."

"Owe you?"

"Yes, I had to suffer for three hours in this ridiculous outfit, sitting next to a three hundred pound man who smelled like fish and corndogs."

"But you love corndogs," I say, barely able to keep a straight face.

His jaw tightens. "You owe me and I intend to collect."

My brow furrows, as he suddenly pulls over to the side of the road. "What are you doing?"

He undoes his seatbelt and turns to me, smiling. "Collecting."

"Collecting how?"

"Well, you see, I happen to have a list of my own. And at the top of the list it says, "Make love to your beautiful, if cruel, girlfriend in your car."

We've already exchanged I love you's, but it's the first time he's called me his girlfriend and the word makes me grin from ear-to-ear.

He inches toward me. I lean back against the window and he presses his body into mine, his face just inches away.

"Well, no wonder you could never cross that one off. You've never had a girlfriend before," I say.

He nods, his eyes meeting mine and his warm breath tickling my lips. "But that's not the case anymore."

I smile. "Now you have me."

"Now I have you," he says, as he brings his lips to mine.

I pull back a moment later. "Will I be forgiven after this?"

He grins and shakes his head, "I'm not one to easily forgive. It's going to take a while. It may take all night long."

I bring my thumb up and caress his dimple, as my smile widens. "Well, I'll do whatever I can to get back in your good graces."

He laughs into my mouth, saying, "I'm holding you to that," before his lips cover mine again.

He puts his stripping skills to good use and we get started on number one on his list.

By the way, I am totally crossing off number two on mine. It counts!

----
Up Next: To Do # 2 - Sleep in a Haunted Castle
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought. -Steph.