AN: This chapter and the next (which should go up later this week) are both dedicated to the lovely zaibi, who is one of the sweetest fans ever and who has been asking when I would write another one-shot for this series. Then she posted a very cute Cobert pic set on Tumblr that inspired these next two one-shots. Thanks for the inspiration and the encouragement, zaibi! :-)

Oww. Robert's first thought upon waking, before he even opened his eyes, was how much everything hurt.

"You've had a very straightforward surgery, Lord Grantham," Clarkson had said. "Your recovery shouldn't be difficult."

Clearly, Clarkson had never had part of his stomach removed.

Robert slowly forced his eyes open to glance at the clock on his bedside table. 2:10 a.m. He sighed. He was not strong enough yet to be up and about, but his body had had its fill of lying in bed all the time. He'd been home from the hospital for three days now, and he hadn't slept straight through the night once.

Robert squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to will himself to sleep again, but it was no use. His back. Oh, his back. There was an insistent throbbing in the lower third of his spine, and perhaps it might ease if he changed positions…and then in a few more hours, he'd awake to new aches in new places. How had a single surgery aged him twenty years?

He was lying on his left side, and he was not sure he could roll over on his own, not with the state of his stomach muscles, but he was determined to try. He'd deprived Cora of too much sleep already in the last two nights, to say nothing of the nights she'd spent at his side in the hospital. And so he tried to shift in the bed to push himself over onto his back, but the muscles Clarkson had cut through shouted at him to stop, and his lower back clenched painfully.

"Mmpf." He tried to bury his groan into his pillow, but he knew before he had finished the noise that of course Cora would hear it. Of course she would. He had not known her at any other time in their marriage to be a light sleeper, but she'd suddenly developed an ability to sleep with one eye open and sense his every twitch.

Sure enough, he heard her sleepily say, "Darling?"

He grunted in response. Cora's solicitousness made him grumpy, and he did not understand why, for there was nothing in the world that was more soothing to him. His irritability irritated him, yet he could not seem to stop snapping at her when he knew she was only trying to help. When she was, indeed, helping very much.

Although perhaps that was it. He did not like to need help, to be unable to see to things himself, for Cora to think him helpless.

"Darling, what's wrong?" she said now, her voice laced with concern.

"Oh for heaven's sake, go back to sleep," he muttered.

But she was not to be put off. "I thought I heard you groaning."

"My back hurts," he said, and he did not bother to hide the anger in his tone…anger at the pain, and anger at his wife for waking and noticing.

Yet as she had for the last week, Cora ignored his tone. "Do you want me to rub it?" she asked sweetly.

"No, no," he said, irritably brushing the suggestion off—he did not know why, because a backrub sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world right now. "Don't fuss. It'll be good enough if I can just roll over." He tried to push himself onto his back again but hissed in pain and gave up.

Cora ignored his brush-off just as she had ignored his tone. "Here," she said, her voice sweet but firm, and he felt her hands settle on his back, beginning to make small circles. "Let me rub your back; I know it'll help. Where do you hurt?"

"A bit further down," he said, feeling his irritation fade as he realized the battle had been lost. He could not roll over without her help anyway. "Close to my spine."

"Here?"

He groaned in approval as he felt her fingers move onto his aching lower back. Cora's hands were small and delicate, but their appearance hid their strength, and he closed his eyes as her fists eased the tightness in his muscles, the soreness slowly fading. Robert sighed contentedly.

"Does that feel good?" she asked quietly.

"Heavenly," he murmured. "It feels heavenly."

"See? I told you it would help." There was gentle teasing, not irritation, in her voice.

He let her work for a few more minutes, enjoying the soothing pressure as the pain eased. "That's enough, darling," he said at last, not wanting her hands to hurt. "It's much better. Thank you."

"Good." Her hands stilled, and she pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. "Do you want me to help you roll over now?"

"Yes," he grunted, annoyed and embarrassed again. "Obviously I can't do it myself!" he snapped. He was a hundred-and-seventy-pound infant that Cora was now tasked with taking care of...and for some reason, his displeasure with that fact came out as displeasure at her. He knew it was unjust, but he was equally powerless to fix it.

Cora did not acknowledge the tartness of his reply. The mattress shifted as she sat up, and he felt her arms slide firmly around him. "Lean back towards me," she instructed calmly, and he did so. "Easy, now," she murmured as she helped him turn, Robert groaning loudly at the movement. "Easy."

At last it was over, and he lay on his back, panting, his hand going to his stitched-up stomach and his eyes closed as he watched stars circle behind his closed lids. He always forgot how painful turning was.

There was the soothing sensation of Cora's fingers stroking his brow. "Shh," she murmured. "You're all right. But you couldn't have done that on your own, darling, and please don't try. It's all right to ask for help." He grunted. "It is," she insisted. "That's what marriage is...for the help and comfort that one ought to have of the other," she went on, quoting the English wedding ceremony.

He ignored her, in no mood for a treatise on the merits of marriage.

Then the mattress shifted again as she got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked grumpily, opening his eyes to see her making her way around the bed. "You don't need to get up."

"Yes, I do. You need something for your stomach."

"Cora, I don't need anything." He was cranky again, and he knew it was unkind, but he couldn't seem to stop. "I need you to leave me be."

She ignored him and continued into the washroom, where he heard the water running. Soon, she returned clutching a hot water bottle, which she carefully settled onto his stomach, near to where they both knew the stitches were.

"There," she said softly. "That should help with your muscles."

And then she sat down on the bed at his waist, smiling affectionately and slipping a hand onto his abdomen. Ever so lightly, her fingers began to rub, tracing gentle patterns where the hot water bottle wasn't, distracting him from the pain in his belly and coaxing him to relax.

At close range, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see how drawn her face was, how dark the circles under her own eyes. "I'm sorry I woke you," he said, guilty for the hundredth time at the stress he'd put her through.

She shook her head. "It's okay; I couldn't sleep anyway." He knew that was a lie—from the deep breathing he'd heard before he'd awakened her, and the groggy way she'd spoke at first, he knew she'd been in a sound sleep. But he loved her for her lie and did not argue.

His eyes were beginning to droop, the heat on his belly and Cora's gentle touch soothing him into sleep. But first…

"Darling, I'm sorry I keep snapping at you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I'm so difficult."

She laughed softly. "I don't mind; I know you don't feel well. You be as difficult as you like." She leaned down to brush a kiss to his forehead. "I'm just so glad you're going to be all right; I don't care how cranky you are, my dearest."

All this, from the exhausted woman he woke in the middle of the night so she could give him massages while he chewed on her. "You're an angel," he said simply.

Cora laughed again. "I can tell you're still medicated. That's not my Englishman talking."

He wanted to argue, but all he could do was yawn, and he felt sleep coming quickly. "Cora, you know…you know that I…"

"Yes, darling, I know." She leaned over again and laid a soft kiss on his lips, then replaced her own lips with a single finger against his. "But shh. Sleep now."

AN: My headcanon is definitely that our Donk is a terrible patient, as well as very cranky when he doesn't feel well. And my other headcanon is that Cora just smiles and puts up with his crap. Because while he maybe be a big baby, he's also her baby.