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Meddling – Robin 20
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I love seeing Patrick like this. His joy and excitement are infectious.

I've only ever seen him like this before in the O.R. Okay, and when we're making love. But that's what he's been like most of the day here at Glen Watkin's race track. There's no big races going on, but he's having a blast and I'm not even bothering to say no to anything he proposes.

"You know, there's this spot I know…" He gives me a heated sidelong glance and bites his lip in the charming way he has that makes me melt.

Until now.

We're sitting in our seats waiting for the next race to begin. Our hands are entwined and resting on my leg.

"I'm going to puke."

"Why, Dr. Scorpio, I thought you wanted me." He leans in closer so I can smell his arousing scent – Patrick Drake, cologne, steamy track food and motor oil.

My stomach churns. "I've had a corn dog, a hot pretzel, the biggest cone of cotton candy, two sodas and Twizzlers." My stomach churns even more as I tick off the junk I've consumed since we arrived at the track before opening so that Patrick could go down to the pits and greet people he used to know and check out the cars. My face heats up and I press it against Patrick's arm. "Really. Gonna. Puke." I gasp in deep breaths.

"Awww, poor baby." Patrick releases my hand and puts his arm around me. "Maybe you'd feel better if you just did? It's all part of the experience, you know."

"Throwing up is part of the racing experience and this is what you loved so much?"

"Nah, this is part of the viewing experience. I was a driver."

"I'm never eating another cotton candy." We both know I'm lying since it's my absolute favorite sweet of all times, which is why Patrick used his oozing charm to get the teenager manning the machine to make it super duper size. And then he didn't help me eat it. "God," I gasp. But for right now, I'm never eating a bit of junk food. Ever. In. My. Life.

"Spoilsport."

"Did you just call me a spoilsport?" I sit up and look up at him slack-jawed. "You still have a totally crappy bedside manner." I cross my arms and pout. I'm only half-kidding. I am considering just puking in his lap.

"Do you want to leave?" He sighs sadly.

"No. I just don't want to be so nauseous." Although, since he insulted me I am feeling slightly better; which, I think as I look at his smirk, was part of his strategy. There were a few moments in when I was sick in the hospital where he deliberately baited me to bring out my strength.

"I bet if you let me do you you'd feel a lot better."

I cover my face and groan. He is completely impossible and damned if I don't love that about him. I feel his hand settle on my head.

"If you're really feeling that sick, we can go. We have been all day."

I sigh. He always does that. Says something crass and insensitive followed up by something completely sweet. It's a wonder that I don't suffer from vertigo. I lean my head against his chest and wrap my arms around his torso. "Crazy man, just hold me and watch the races. Just don't rub my back if you don't want a lap full of surprises."

"Got it, no rubbing." Patrick gently puts his arm around my shoulders and clasps my arm.

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An hour later we hold hands and head for our car. I look at him in the glare of the setting sun and am so happy to see the peace on his face. When we had arrived this morning and went into the pits I could see the shadows in his eyes. I knew he was thinking about all he had lost when his mother had died; in one fell swoop he had lost his mother, his father, his hero and his dreams of racing. When I tried to talk to him about it he asked if he could just have some time alone. Sad, but understanding, I agreed. Not thirty minutes later he found me sitting in the drivers seat of the newest car racing that day being shown the controls by the eager pit crew and the driver; who ends up idolized Patrick in his youth.

From that moment on the day was nothing but a joy.

"Thanks for coming with me," Patrick says when we get to his car. We stand holding hands smiling shyly at each other. The sun makes everything look like it's on fire around us.

"Thank you for bringing me. It was fun."

"Vomiting notwithstanding?" he asks with raised eyebrows.

"Sorry about that." I grimace. Despite both our best efforts I was unable to feel better any other way.

"We're just going to have to ease you into the junk food slowly, but surely." He chuckles and pulls me closer. We wrap our arms around each other and just stand holding each other as the sun slides down into the horizon. Around us, other people are sitting in lines waiting to get out of the parking lot. We're not in a hurry.

"I love you, Patrick."

"I love you, too."