For once, it was absolutely refreshing to watch Jeanie light into her father the moment she saw his battered face walk through the door. Steve had stayed in the background, a smug grin on his face as Mike received the scolding, they both knew was coming.
After the initial shock and an explanation of what had happened, he'd helped him to the bathroom while Jeanie prepared dinner.
With his body becoming increasingly achier as the night went on, Mike had had a hard time stripping out of his clothes to work on that well-deserved hot shower. Cringing at the blood stains that had covered so much of his suit and blue vest, Steve had reminded his partner to move slowly, keep his temple out of the water to protect the bandage, and to call for help if he needed anything, even if it meant getting the soap on his back.
At this point, riddled with guilt, shame and anger, the young Inspector didn't care if he had to physically carry Mike to the dining room table, as long as it meant that he was safe and out of harm's way.
For the past twenty minutes, Steve had been sitting on the corner of Mike's bed, holding vigil and waiting for a call for help if it was needed. Outside, he could hear Jeanie move dishes around in the kitchen, and begin to set the table.
Physically ill to his stomach by now, he had no desire to eat, barely getting started with the guilt trip he'd bestowed upon himself, and thirsting for the chance to bypass a night's sleep to help the patrols canvass several neighborhoods for the thugs who did this to Mike.
As the events of the day slowly reignited the tension and anxiety that had driven him straight into Andrea's arms, her haunting words about Mike's crisis seemingly even more accurate by now, he found himself beginning to tremble. Glancing down at his clasped hands, he watched his black tie swing back and forth with each rapid and shallow breath he took, the continuous thumping coming from his chest a subtle reminder of how upset he was about the whole situation.
An eternity passed by when suddenly, a pair of bare feet appeared in front of his tie, causing him to jerk out of his somber state.
"You were supposed to call for help.", Steve argued exasperatedly and jumped up from the bed, noticing that Mike had changed into a bathrobe, his hair wet on the edges.
"I am not dead, will you quit this fussing? You're as bad as Jeanie."
Slowly walking the length of his bedroom over to the dresser, Mike mumbled something he couldn't understand, and probably just as good he didn't, before going through the drawers.
"Let me put on some clothes and we can eat dinner. Did you ever eat today?"
"Why not just put on some pajamas? Doctor Ford was pretty strict about you taking it easy for a bit. There's no sense dressing up for Jeanie."
Getting up and following his partner to the dresser, Steve slowed down when Mike turned around in obvious surprise.
"Jeanie? You're not joining us for dinner? You gotta eat. She's making food for all of us."
"Jeanie always cooks enough food to feed an army.", Steve countered matter-of-factly and gently pushed the open drawer shut again, "Don't worry about things, just…you know…get some rest and take those pain pills so that you can stay asleep all night. I will call you in the morning to give you an update on where things stand."
The previous smile disappeared from Mike's face, replaced by a worried frown, when his eyes scanned those of his partner suspiciously.
"Update on our case, right? You're not going out there starting a lynch mob, are you?"
"No way.", Steve lied with a smile that was theatre-worthy, "Just checking on a few things in the office before calling it a night. And I'll be sure to call your house in a couple of hours to check that Jeanie has put you to bed and you're yielding the doctor's order."