1

It was Sunday night. Alex had fixed one of Bobby's favorite meals for dinner and, after cleaning up, joined him on the couch, snuggling under their cozy throw blanket.

"I would've helped you, you know," he said.

"I know, but I didn't want you to; you're not all better yet. You should rest." She really meant it and, although she'd never admit it to anyone, she was having fun pampering and spoiling him.

He reached for the remote and quickly, teasingly, got his hand slapped. "Don't touch that remote, buster. If you think I'm spending another night watching old World War II footage or documentaries about the Galapagos Islands, you've got another guess comin'," she threatened.

He gave one of his breathy chuckles and squeezed her closer. "I love it when you play 'bad cop' with me," he teased, placing a kiss on her head, "but you're not really gonna' make me sit through that home make-over show, are you?"

"It's fun – they have good decorating ideas," she defended.

"I like my apartment the way it...OUCH!" He had earned another slap.

"Excuse me! This is OUR apartment," she said indignantly, trying to squirm from his grasp. It only made him pull her closer, his size and strength frustrating her as she wriggled helplessly and finally gave in, settling back against him.

"That's better," he said, thankful that she was 'spooned' in front of him and couldn't see his smile of satisfaction as he thought to himself, "that's my little spitfire."

They watched over an hour's worth of the shows of Alex's choosing, interrupted occasionally by Bobby's over-exaggerated sighs of boredom; she wasn't sure if they were feigned or not, but she refused to give in. Finally, she knew he had dozed off – she could tell from his breathing and the way the tightness of his grip around her waist relaxed. A coughing spell roused him from his sleep and Alex seized the opportunity to get up– only to get Bobby his night-time medicine and a glass of juice.

"Thanks," he said, making a face at the distaste of the Nyquil.

"You sure you feel well enough to go back to work tomorrow?" she asked.

"I'll go crazy if I don't – I've been cooped up since last Wednesday." He swallowed his last gulp of juice and announced, "Well, guess it's time for bed!"

"It's not even 10 o'clock; I wanna' see that show with..." She didn't get to finish her sentence as he pulled her close and scooped her into his arms, carrying her off to the bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going? Put me down, you big bully!"

It only made him laugh.

"We're going to bed," he re-stated. His grin couldn't hide his intentions, as he carried her down the hallway to the bedroom, unceremoniously deposited her on the bed and threw himself on top of her.

The kisses he was planting on her neck were giving her goose bumps. She didn't bother trying to resist, as he kissed her mouth hungrily. As their lips parted and he gazed at her face, she couldn't hold back her smile. "You must be feeling better," she teased him.

He nodded, "uh-huh...and in a little while, we're both gonna' be feeling better," he said, lowering his face to hers to give and receive another kiss.

He was bossy, cocky, demanding, confident in overpowering her ––infuriatingly so — and she loved every bit of him.

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They laid entwined amidst the tangled sheet and blanket –– totally spent — prolonging the closeness of their union. He looked down at her face as he brushed the wisp of bangs from her forehead and saw the small smile upon the corners of her lips. He inwardly congratulated himself for being the cause of her content satisfaction.

As her head laid on his chest, fingers lightly stroking the soft hair and tracing the curve of his pectoral muscle, she couldn't help but smile as she thought to herself, "I can't wait 'til Deakins gets a hold of him tomorrow."

He kissed her head again, his soft whisper broke the silence, "You look happy."

"Oh, I am," she assured him, her grin broadening, "I am."

End Chapt. 2