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Meddling – Robin & Patrick
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There's something different about Patrick tonight. I saw it in his eyes when he picked me up at Mac's front door.
It's like the time after he found out I was HIV positive and he had a sudden attack of conscience at how he treated me, which of course I promptly shoved in his face. I have no idea why he's suddenly treating me as if I'm fragile now, though.
It could just be because we've just kissed and we're on another date? Or maybe Ihe's/I feeling fragile with everything going on with his dad? Or maybe it's just the fact that he's actually out on a second date; that could be quite a new thing for Patrick for all I know.
Or maybe it's that he reads me really well and seems to always have. It wasn't too long ago that his sharing of insights was most unwelcome.
The truth is I Iam/I feeling fragile tonight. So much so I almost cancelled our date on the excuse of being too tired. It was actually my own eagerness to see Patrick again that stopped me from making that last minute call and not avoiding the "I told you so's" I would be certain to hear for going back to work so soon.
His hand is warm as it closes over mine. I look over at him in the dark car as he drives us to our dinner.
"Where are we going?" For some reason I find myself speaking softly, but that's just how things feel tonight between us. Soft. Not wimpy or weak or insubstantial, just soft. Comfortable. As if we've finished climbing a mountain and have finally reached the plateau and the world is spread out at our feet. And it's just…soft.
I guess it's a good thing I became a doctor and not a poet.
"We'll be there in a few minutes. I think you'll like it."
I'm not in a hurry to know so I just hold his hand in the dark car. Feeling. Soft.
I let out a sigh of relief when I see where we're parking. I so did not want to go to the MetroCourt. "This is nice." I smile up at him as he helps me out of the car like a gentleman and I'm happier than ever that I didn't chicken out tonight.
"I was hoping you'd think so. I know that your Uncle Mac and Felicia used to run this place." I hear a question in his voice.
Yes, that's right he's taken me to the place that used to be The Outback and has changed hands a bunch of times in the intervening years. "How did you find out?" I'm curious to know just how much thought he's put into this evening. And just when he started planning it.
"I asked around." He shrugs.
"So you did a lot of research for this date?" I finally ask him outright.
He stops as we reach the front of the door and he clasps my hand in both of his. "Am I winning points?" He smirks and cocks an eyebrow. Clearly, he's not going to share his secrets on this, but it's not really important now anyway.
"I think I can give you a few." I look down at the ground for a moment before looking back up into his deep, dark eyes. "Stone and I used to come here." I tell him this not to bring up a painful past or put distance between us, but because I don't want him to be blindsided with the knowledge later. There is nothing to hide. I'm about to explain this to him when he utters a few words that rock me.
"Thank you for telling me."
I blink at him, truly rendered speechless. Fortunately, that's not an issue because Patrick is opening the front door and leading into the restaurant that is both a symbol of a happy past and the start of a brand new future.
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I have to admit I was nervous to bring Robin here. The food and the ambience are highly recommended, but when Alan Quatermaine told me about it earlier today he also told me about Robin's connection to the place. Not about Stone, just that it might be someplace that had more baggage than it might be a good idea to deal with on a date. He was probably right with any woman with Robin and at any other time but now.
For Robin who has a fantastic capacity to grab at the good memories from the past, in stark contrast to my tendency to savor the bitter, and who is clearly in the grips of an emotional upheaval brought on by her father's resurrection this could be the perfect place. Familiar. Comfortable.
Or it could be a complete bust, too emotional and painful for her. In which case my father would have a few choice words about it himself since he just warned me to be careful with her and not screw it up.
But since she immediately shared with me a deep connection she had to the place right off the bat I think I'm doing well. As we're led to our table she's telling me that this place used to be decorated like an Australian beach. I can barely imagine that since now it's a fancy French restaurant replete with candlelight, fancy decoration and white tablecloths.
"Would you like to order for us?" I ask her as we look over the menus. I'm perfectly capable of it, I can speak passable French, but I think it would be something she would enjoy and I'm proven right again as he eyes sparkle and she accepts my invitation.
I put my menu down and just watch her banter with the sommelier and then the waiter in her cute, yet unaccented French that makes her seem adorable and sexy at the same time.
"I was worried about bringing you here," I admit after tasting the lovely white she picked out for our appetizers.
"You'd be hard pressed to find somewhere in Port Charles that I don't have some kind of tie to. I did live here most of my life."
"Most of your life? Where did you live before?" I want to know everything about her. I would voluntarily sit through photo albums of this gorgeous woman's past. I have never done that before, not since my high school girlfriend. And then it was only to try and make points with the parents.
"Italy, I was born there actually."
I'm watching carefully for any sign that the conversation is upsetting to her. "Do you hold duel citizenship?" I ask.
"I do actually. I was naturalized after I first came here." Now, she does sigh and look sad.
"Do you not want to talk about it?"
She picks up her glass of wine and takes a small sip before answering me. "I'd really like to not talk about it. Or anything to do with my father. Tonight, let's enjoy ourselves, talk about your father." She swirls the wine in her glass and takes another small sip.
"Oh no, other than my most profound gratitude for changing my father's mind, let's declare father's off limits for tonight. I'd much rather talk about kissing."
"Kissing? You want to Italk/I about kissing?" She's clearly amused by my conversational turn and more than amused I can tell because she licks her bottom lip right after she asks.
"I think in this kind of establishment we might get kicked out if we did more than talk about kissing. However, kissing can make for very interesting conversation." I take a sip of wine and watch her over the glass. Her eyes are shining and her face is glowing with suppressed mirth. I'm warmed by the reaction.
I could tell from the moment she appeared in the doorway tonight that she was tired and, as my father pointed out, vulnerable. Part of me, the doctor, wanted to order her to bed as she was clearly pressing herself too hard too soon after being released, against my will, from the hospital, but I saved my breath. I know my Robin well enough to know that if that's what she wanted to do she would have done it herself and if I told her to rest she wouldn't just to spite me. She's just like me in that way. So instead, I intend to make this evening relaxing, light and make sure she gets a good night sleep.
Okay, I'm pretty much forcing myself on that last part because there's nothing I'd like more than to keep her up all night. In my bed. I just know there's little chance of that happening. And it wouldn't be a good idea. For either of us. That something I won't identify throbs in my chest.
"There's a lot of facet to kissing. Types of kisses, intricacies, pitfalls, pressure, moisture, head positioning, places. Oh yes. Lots of places. I've head stories about places to kiss in General Hospital."
"Stories?" Robin snorts dubiously. "More like experience."
I ignore her interruption. "Stories about Monica and Alan, my father and Bobbie. My father and a lot of other nurses."
I hear her mumble something about apples and trees as our appetizer is placed in front of us. I once again ignore her as we both taste the crabe au citron (crab with lemon) she has ordered for us to start with.
"I'm sure you and I can find a multitude of places in the hospital to enjoy kissing each other." I can't help but laugh as she shoots me a glare.
"You can't possibly think I'm going to run around work kissing you."
"You did today." I think it's most reasonable for me to point out. Robin apparently does not agree as she blushes and shoots me a glare. I point to her plate and continue once she takes another bite. "And I have no doubt that you are not going to be able resist kissing me. All over the hospital and anywhere else we both happen to be." I lean forward and inform her.
"You're unbelievable!"
"I believe we covered that I am before." I can't help but chuckle. Okay, so maybe relaxing and light is out the window, but the fire in her eyes and the smile on her lips is what I was hoping for anyway. "Now on to types of kissing, and I don't just mean the typical French kiss. However apropos it might be in these surroundings." I gesture around with my glass of wine.
"There's kisses of sexual attraction, kisses of affection. Long, slow kisses. Fast, light kisses. Deep kisses. Nipping kisses. There's lip nibbling. Lip biting. Some people even like biting tongues, but it's not my preference. There's also the Eskimo kiss, but if you're not an Eskimo stuck in the North Pole I don't see the point."
"I can't believe you're lecturing me on kissing. Actually, I can." Robin looks up at the ceiling, allowing me to confirm that her flush does indeed spread down her neck.
"Then, there's the hand placement. Hand placement is very important…"
"Stop. I don't want to talk about hands. Patrick Drake you are a little devil."
"If you don't want to talk about it, how about we demonstrate it."
"Your chances of kissing me tonight are waning exponentially with every word you utter."
"Oh, Doctor Scorpio, I really, really doubt that."
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He's leaning back in his chair informing me that I'm going to be kissing him later. The man is incorrigible. Impossible. Unbelievable.
But damn me if my cheeks don't hurt from smiling so much. A far cry from how I felt just an hour ago.
"What would you like to talk about, Doctor Scorpio?" The way he drawls out my name, even though he's using my formal title, is intimate and sexy and make my toes curl. And he's even asked a good question.
I don't really want to talk about work. It's not that I don't love it, but I know I'd get carried away, we'd either end up arguing and this would just be another work meal. I'm surprised by just how much I don't want that. We've already agreed that fathers are off-limits. We could share stories about our pasts, but somehow that doesn't seem right tonight either, as much as I want to know everything about little Patrick Drake - pre-womanizer. Maybe Patrick was on to something by bringing up a totally whimsical topic.
Well, can't beat 'em, Join 'em.
"What about the hands?"
The smile he graces me with makes my crazy capitulation worth it.