A/N: Thanks for all the excellent reviews - they are an inspiration!
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Meddling – Patrick 7
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"You're Patrick Drake, you don't do nervous," I remind my sexy looking reflection. This self-same reflection, however, ignores my commentary and reaches down yet again to make sure that the waistband of my Calvins are symmetrical on each hip and dipping down just low enough to get Robin Scorpio salivating when I make my long-awaited appearance in the adjoining bedroom.
"Just get out there before she starts wondering what you're doing in here or falls asleep!" I tell myself and put my hand on the door knob. With one last inhalation I open the door and prepare to dazzle Robin Scorpio with my gym-toned body.
"Make sure you're sitting down!" I call out as I walk through the door into…the empty bedroom. "Man, you are a chicken, Scorpio!" I chuckle to myself and walk out of the bedroom in search of my wayward host.
She's not in the office and she's not in the living room. Though the breakfast bar screens are closed I hear the faint sounds of glass and pill bottles coming from the kitchen and my stomach sinks. She's taking her morning protocol. I stop walking, trying to recoup. My plan to flaunt my body in front of her suddenly feels shallow. Still, I know Robin well enough to know that she'd hate it if I walked into the kitchen and made her taking her pills a big, serious deal. I suck in some air and gird myself back up.
"I did try your robe, but I just didn't think pink is my color." I lean against the entry to the kitchen and smirk at her.
"I do not have a pink robe!" She turns from the counter where she's taking her pills and glares at me, ready to banter and argue. The sight of her so pugnacious lessens my unease that she might feel my presence was an intrusion while she took her meds. My smirk widens to a grin that flashes my teeth.
She might not have a pink robe, but she definitely has pink cheeks. I put my hands on my hips and let her take an eyeful of me while I take advantage of her distraction and take an eyeful of her. Some more of the tension in my gut unravels at the sight of her looking so delectable in blue flannel pajamas bottoms and a matching ribbed tank top. Delectable, healthy and definitely approving of the view.
"This is what you've been denying yourself all this time." Unable to help myself I spread my arms out and turn slowly around so that she can get a view of all of my, ahem, assets.
Take one of the longest days of my life, total exhaustion and add one Robin Scorpio and I'm actually enjoying myself, I think to myself as I peacock around for her. And I'm not the only one enjoying myself.
When I get one hundred and eighty degrees around I'm delighted to find her leaning back on the counter enjoying the view. I tilt my head and bite my lip and fix her with a look that makes the blush on her cheeks deepen.
"Me thinks Doctor Scorpio enjoyed the view." I take my time to walk up to her, making sure I don't stop until I'm in her space and able to detect the citrus scent of her moisturizer.
Oh my, this is fabulous! She's having pornographic thoughts about me! I bite back a laugh as she bites her lip and starts slightly as I reach out my hand. Shock widens her eyes when all I do is lift up her hand and unfurl her fist to unhide the pill she hasn't yet taken. At the sight of the pill my sense of delight flees and is replaced with a tenderness that gives me pause. This is how I felt during the quarantine, grateful that she's allowing me this intimacy of caring for her. Except, we're standing barely clothed in her kitchen and she's not my patient anymore. Shaken by the depth of my feelings, I avoid her eyes and reach over her shoulder to retrieve her glass of water.
"Thank you." Her words are slightly shaky, which in turn breaks something inside me that I didn't realize I had been shoring up. I take the glass from her and walk over to the sink. I carefully place it in the basin and drop my head down trying to gather myself back up. It's all too much right now. Her. My father.
"Patrick?"
"Do you mind if I use the phone to call the hospital?" I ask before she can touch me. I know I'd lose what's left of my equanimity if she touched me. My momentarily relief that she just hands me the telephone flees as while I'm dialing she places a hand on my arm. As I call the Transplant Unit and ask for a status update on my father's surgery I'm blinded by the insight that her touch is not my undoing, but lends me strength. When she moves closer, sharing her body heat with me it's all I can do to not toss the phone on the floor and sweep her up and hold her against me. Instead, I cut the connection and reach over and put the phone back on the wall.
"Come to bed," My heart stutters at her soft words.
Who is this woman? I mean, really. Who is she? I put my hand over hers, trapping it against my skin as I study her. She came into my life shook it up with her Stalin-like charm and now she's providing me with such loving care my heart is wobbling in my chest. As she continues to look up at me I'm left bare and bereft of a glib comment to hide behind.
She places her hand on my cheek and raises herself on her tiptoes and I automatically lean down to meet her. I'm ready for a kiss, but not for what she does by barely touching her lips to mine, just moving them softly over mine, urging them open. My breath hitches as we breathe the same breath, again as her fingers skim over my cheek and neck and again as her hand cradles my neck and she finally deepens the kiss. I sink.
It's not until she pulls away that I'm able to form a remotely coherent thought.
This is love.