A/N: They'll get there, they'll get there. You didn't think she'd go quietly did you! Well, I'm sick in bed this weekend for the laptop, so there'll be something sooner rather than later to follow this up.

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Meddling – Robin 13
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As I zip up my suitcase a daunting thought occurs to me. I pause with the bag half closed and sit down hard on my bed.

I am about to go on a week long vacation alone with Patrick Drake.

The key words being "alone" and "week." Seven days. Six nights. I think this might have even been my idea? What the hell was I thinking?

Taking a trip together is a really big relationship test and Patrick and I have only been dating for a couple of months. During that time we haven't exactly had a lot of alone time together. Virtually none. The longest trip we've ever taken alone together is probably about a twenty minute car ride – counting red lights.

This might be way too soon in our relationship for this.

Because, let's face it, Patrick and I are like oil and water on a good day. What the hell is going to happen over seven days of us being in a house alone together? We're going to Cape Cod, it's not like there's a lot to distract us from being housebound together. This has all the makings of a cheesy horror movie. Oh my god, another thought occurs to me, he's going to want to spend the entire week in bed. He's hot, but I'm going to go postal without something intellectually stimulating to do for that long. Maybe he won't notice if I sneak my laptop into my suitcase? Yeah, right.

This is what Robin Scorpio looks like when panicked, I think as I look at myself in the mirror above my dresser.

There are endless things we could disagree about or get annoyed with each other about and historically speaking we don't handle conflict very peaceably. There's the small stuff – toothpaste caps on the counter and not on the tube, towels on the floor and I just bet that Patrick is the kind of guy to leave his bed unmade. I can't stand that!

I can't sit still. I get up and start pacing.

Then there's the big stuff. I'm sure that I'm going to drive him nuts with my need for precision and organization. I can't quite think of anything specific right now, but that's because I'm used to myself. I'm sure that my control freak tendencies will drive him crazy, they pretty much already do except we haven't had sex yet so his hormones make him put up with it. And while I've grown to adore his narcissistic, jackass tendencies, I usually get to stomp away and escape his presence for a while before he riles me up again. This whole housebound idea seems dumber and dumber as my panic increases.

Aw geez, what if he wants to watch stupid television programs? Like talk shows where people admit to having sex with their transvestite brother-in-laws? Or those dreadful sitcoms with the perfect family where someone, usually the hapless man, does something stupid and someone, usually the ball-busting woman, needs to teach him a lesson? Oh, gag.

And what if I suck in bed? He's had a lot of experiences, I haven't.

Or worse, what if he sucks in bed? What if because he's always been a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of guy he only has a few moves? Or what if he gets really awkward in the after part and says or does something stupid and then I get hurt and furious and we fight? That could definitely happen!

Then we're stuck eight hours from home together. Why couldn't we have booked a night at a hotel somewhere a cab ride away? Or his apartment now that Noah has moved out?

I stop pacing and stare the bedside phone. This would be a good time for one of those interruptions so that we can't go. Nothing like a virus outbreak, but, something! My father could be back from London and need to talk to me desperately because my mother has planted a bomb on him or in him?

I'm staring so intently at the telephone willing it to ring that I jump out of my skin when the doorbell rings instead.

With a shaky hand over my stomach I walk to the door. Maybe I'll get sick? Oh please, let me puke and get out of this. I open the front door and stare mutely at an obviously exuberant Patrick.

"Ready?" he fairly skips into my place, a big grin on his face. He's dressed in jeans and a brown t-shirt with just a black leather jacket thrown over it.

He looks effin' hot.

"One second!" I shoot him a smile and rush back into my bedroom.

"You can do this, you can do this." I cover my face with my hands and force myself to take deep breaths.

"Um, Robin?"

Startled, I spin around. I didn't hear him follow me. Of course, that's because I was too busy trying to breathe.

"What's wrong?"

I'm about to open my mouth to utter a bald-faced lie when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I've gone from a mild look of panic to a look of absolute terror. I'd laugh at myself if I wasn't so, well, terrified.

"Well, the thing is, um, we haven't exactly spent a lot of time alone together, Patrick."

"Yes, Robin. That's why we're going away alone together," he says very slowly as if talking to a moron, which he might very well be at this point.

"Vacations are pretty serious. Stressful for couples." Wow, what oratory glory that was.

"Robin, are you having cold feet?" Patrick is not doing a very good job at hiding just how amused at me he is. That pisses me off, which in turn settles a lot of my panic.

"Patrick, have you ever spent more than a weekend with a woman?"

Patrick opens his mouth to answer me. He shuts it before a sound comes out. He finally gets it. This makes me feel a lot better. I bite my lip before I can ask him if he's suddenly got cold feet. Urges like that are exactly the type of thing that are going to cause us to kill each other before the week is out.

"Does Club Med Hedonism count?" He clears his throat and slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

"Probably not." I feel more than a twinge of jealousy as I imagine a barely clad Patrick Drake sexing it up on a beach with a different woman every night. Probably a different one in the afternoons too. And brunch, I'm sure he didn't leave out brunch.

"Well, then no." He shrugs. He's clearly not going to be of any help in realigning these plans of ours.

"So it doesn't worry you that we've never spent this long together before?"

"Are you afraid that one of us might not come back alive?" He smirks.

"The thought did occur to me that I might end up killing you or seriously maiming you." Like right now, for instance.

He walks up to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. He leans down and looks me right in the eye. "I want to spend a week alone with you Robin. I can't wait."

"We can't spend the entire week having sex, Patrick. What the hell are we going to do for a week? That's seven days."

"Have you ever taken a vacation before?" Patrick asks, brushing over the sex question and my needless definition of how many days there are in a week.

"But…"

"Just answer my questions." His voice is so patient it makes my teeth ache.

"Yes."

"Have you ever gone on vacation with a man before?"

"Yes."

"For more than a weekend?"

"Yes." Hmmm, good point. But those men weren't Patrick Drake and they didn't make me want to either tear my hair out on a regular basis or hand over the whole of my heart.

"Do you like me?"

"Like you like you? Like Winnie Cooper and Kevin Arnold? I think we established that already."

"No." Patrick rolls his eyes and chuckles. "Do you like me as a person?"

"Of course I do. I couldn't love you otherwise." I grin up at him. "You're good." I get where he's going now. We're not just lovers, almost, we are friends. Somewhere in the middle of my panic I forgot that.

"I've been telling you that since we met. Are you ready to leave now?"

"Just one more thing." Since he's still leaning down all I need to do is raise my face in order to wrap my arms around his neck, press my body into his and slide my tongue into his mouth.