"Okay Rocky, let me see that hand." Robin ordered, patting the spot next to her on the couch. He had played tough all this time, but there was no ignoring it now. Until today, it hadn't started to turn colors and she inwardly berated herself for not insisting on him going to the doctor after he hurt it in the first place. While his story seemed a little suspicious to her, she couldn't figure out any other way he could have injured his poor little hand.

"It's fine." Patrick assured her, but let her snatch up his hand for closer inspection anyway. She turned her head to the side, a few strands falling out of the clip she had vigorously strapped them into hours ago. Her hair was lighter than it had been before they'd left for Manhattan, because she had gotten it dyed while he was getting them coffee across the street. He tried not to let the memory of the coffee shop flood his mind, but it came anyway and there was no way to avoid it.

He had been flabbergasted to see Emily Quartermaine show up there at the exact moment he had, but really he shouldn't have been. She had gone underground for a while, but she had resurfaced as he had figured she would. What surprised him most was not her sudden presence at all. No, it was the company she kept. Nikolas Cassadine had made Lucky and Patrick's stint in high school a living hell. They had, in turn, gotten him back every time, but he was always ready to deliver another humiliation, each one worse than the one before it.

Emily had glanced up, surprise in her eyes, when she had heard the barista call Patrick's name. Nikolas had been in tow when she had left their table and started toward her ex, a wide smile playing across her thin lips. He wondered if anyone else could see the evil behind that smile as he could. "Well, Patrick Drake, you are a long way from home." She had greeted him despite the fact that he hadn't even acknowledged her. He wouldn't have known she was smiling if he hadn't the distinctive slam of her high heels skidding across the linoleum. "I believe you're acquainted with my boyfriend, Nikolas Cassadine?" Emily announced the name as if Patrick should give a god damn.

"Patrick Drake?" Nikolas looked amused and Patrick wanted to punch him. "You haven't changed much. Still following after your Daddy?"

Biting the inside of his jaw, Patrick regarded them with a shake of his head. "Nikolas Cassadine. Run out of women to drug?"

"Oh, Drake is that the best you can come up with?" Nikolas asked, disappointed.

"I have to get going." Patrick made a beeline for the door, but a hand on his right arm stopped him in his tracks.

It was Nikolas and, somehow in the last five seconds, he had managed to get rid of Emily. "She came to me with open arms and, I have to say, I've never found such an easy lay. Thanks for that by the way."

"It is not 'fine.' You've been holding it funny for a couple of days now." Robin shot back, unconvinced. She carefully flipped his hand over and studied his palm. So the bruise was concentrated on the back of his hand extending from his knuckles to his wrist. Dropping her mouth to press her lips to each scraped knuckle, she kept her kisses light and lingering.

"Careful." Patrick cringed though she hadn't hurt him at all. Her eyes lifted to his and he saw how worried she looked. Now, he kind of felt like an asshole.

"Your poor little hand." She whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

"It doesn't hurt at all. I promise. I was only teasing. It was a horrible thing to do. Please don't cry." Patrick said all of this very fast, his free hand moving to her face as his mouth found hers in an almost desperate fashion. Her fingers grabbed a hold of his shirt collar, the material bunching up in her hand as he eased her onto her back. Morgan was asleep. There was very little chance of him walking in on them. Besides, they hadn't kissed since before the fight and he was worried he might start to forget her taste.

"Patrick." Robin moaned his name as her hips surged against his in an unconscious motion. His fingers were making quick work of the white button-down she wore and it wasn't long before his hands would be on her bare skin.

"Beautiful." Patrick admired the sight of her puckering nipples as he pulled the shirt completely away from her and pushed it off of her arms. Robin was barely able to suck in a breath before his mouth was on her left breast, his hand molding and massaging the other. She ran her fingers through his hair, her nails digging into his crown when she felt his teeth softly graze her nipple.

Her hands moved to the hem of his shirt and she started to work it up his back, letting out a long sigh when he started to suck her a little harder than she was used to. Usually at this point she would lose herself in the feel of his mouth, tongue, and teeth working in silent agreement, but not this time. Yanking the shirt up, she pressed her palms into his spine, arching her back as his thumb brushed over her other nipple as if to prepare it for his mouth.

She could feel him hard and urgent against her, but he seemed to be content with the simple act of turning her on. Her fingers traced the muscles in his back and neck and he lifted his mouth long enough to let her pull the shirt over his head. "Kiss me." She begged, smiling darkly at his swollen lips.

"Where would you like me to kiss you?" Patrick taunted, purposely flicking each of her nipples with his thumbs as he waited for her to direct him.

Robin wasn't familiar with sex talk so, when she didn't answer, Patrick made the decision for her and slid down the couch. Pulling at the button on her jeans, he urged the zipper down and touched his mouth to the skin he had uncovered. "Ohhh." Robin panted, trembling when he palmed her through the coarse material.

"I bet you taste like strawberries." Patrick whispered to her, working his hand and mouth so that he tugged the jeans down a little farther each time.

A strangled sound exploded from Robin's throat and she fisted her fingers in his hair. She knew what she wanted him to do with that devilish mouth, but she didn't think she had enough courage to ask him. Reading her thoughts as her body gave away all of her secrets, Patrick jerked the jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.

His patience was going to kill her, she realized. He was studying her, taking in every bit of flesh he could see, and, at this moment, he had decided to separate each of her folds and tickle her clit with the heel of his hand. She wasn't sure if he did it on purpose or not, but it was having an unraveling effect on her.

"Please." She pleaded pitifully, her body no longer hers as he dipped his tongue inside of her. Her body bucked and lifted into his mouth, causing him to groan gruffly and move his hand to her stomach. If he was trying to restrain her, it wasn't going to work. Her body was already spoiled to his exploring tongue and she wasn't going to let him stop. He wouldn't really stop, would he?

He alternated between catching her clit in his mouth and sinking even farther inside of her at which point he would strum her softly with his finger. Each time he pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit, holding it against one drenched fold, she would stop breathing. He moved his hands over her waist and cupped her bottom gently, thrusting her lower body into his mouth again and again. Burying his mouth in the dark curls at the apex of her thighs, he worked two fingers up inside of her and she jackknifed, almost breaking his nose in the process.

Patrick wanted to suck her dry, but the moisture was building at a faster pace than he was lapping it up. She was so close; he could feel her slow pull away from reality. He was right about her tasting like strawberries and he smiled at that. The curve of his lips molded into her sodden folds was too much for her and she threw her head back, whimpering breathlessly. If she weren't as tight as she was against his fingers, he might have added a digit, but he didn't want to hurt her. It had been less than a year since her divorce, but it must have been a lot longer since her last orgasm for her to be reacting this way.

"Do you trust me?" He asked his voice gentle as he lifted his mouth from her lower body.

"Yes." Robin replied her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Then I need you to look at me." Patrick urged, slowing his ministrations until she obliged him.

"Don't stop." Robin insisted, her voice as rough as sandpaper.

"Open your eyes." Patrick kept his voice low. A lover's whisper.

In his eyes, Robin saw intent. His mouth was red and swollen and she thought she might fly apart when he tentatively brushed his tongue over his bottom lip.

"Please trust me enough." Patrick implored in a guttural moan.

Before she could ask him what exactly he meant, Patrick stabbed a third finger inside of her and Robin's lower body clenched painfully. Her stomach was twisted in knots and she couldn't keep her eyes focused on any one thing. She thought she might have asked him to caress her harder, to reach farther inside of her, but even the sound of her own voice was muffled. She could hear Patrick saying something to her and, while she was trying her hardest to make sense of his words, she was only able to read the tone. Her entire body jerked restlessly and she felt herself spill over into Patrick's hand and then, as if she had been struck in the back of the head, a light exploded in front of her eyes and she couldn't move for several beats.

Patrick kissed the top of her shoulder, losing a hand in her honey-brown hair. She reached for his free hand and rolled onto her back. Once his hand settled across her stomach, the act was familiar enough to relax her a little. "That's never happened before." Robin divulged uneasily.

"I hurt you, didn't I?" Patrick bet he had. She had been so soft and vulnerable and he had pushed her body before it was ready anyway. He was disgusted with himself.

"No." Robin replied quickly.

"Then what--?" Patrick caught the nervous stare she was trying to hide in the crook of his arm. "Never?" He hadn't meant to sound so shocked, but it seemed impossible.

"Never." Robin had always done whatever she could to please her partners in bed, but when it came time to take care of her, they usually lost interest or fell asleep.

He was trying to be understanding, but some immature part of him crept into his expression and he smiled in spite of himself. "That would make me the first."

"Whoa. Easy there." Cruz moved quickly behind Bobbie as she began to sway in the doorway. He easily wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her steady herself. "You doing ok there?" he asked as she balanced her weight against the doorframe.

"Yeah. Just a little dizzy for a second." Bobbie rested her head briefly on his shoulder. "I'll move in a second."

Kissing her forehead, he smiled. "Don't rush on my account."

"Charmer." She laughed. They had planned to go to out to the exact same restaurant that was the site of their first date. Yes it was secluded but it was more public than they had been in months. Bobbie was trying to keep her promise to be more open to the possibility of going public and this was a first step for her. She wasn't sure if it was fate or someone's idea of a bad joke that she had woken up that morning feeling completely nauseous. The feeling had faded as the day went on but the second she had the barest smell from the restaurant and it came right back.

And now there was the dizziness. Bobbie had rarely fainted in her life and now she had almost fallen over twice. Once getting out of the car and now coming in the house.

"I really am sorry about this." S he offered as she moved to lay down on the couch. With half closed eyes, she watched as Cruz took care of locking the door and putting up her light jacket. Coming to sit down next to her, she smiled as he took off her shoes and placed her feet in his lap.

"You're lucky I know you aren't that good of an actress to fake being sick."

Propping herself up on her elbows, she playfully kicked at him. "I'll have you know I got out of plenty of school by faking illness."

Cruz cocked his eyebrow. "Probably relying on tips and assists from your brother."

"He didn't help that much." True Luke did help out, but he wasn't the total mastermind of it. Well not the complete mastermind at any rate.

Absentmindedly, Cruz began rubbing her feet. "Do you need anything? Are you hungry?"

"Right now if I get near food I think it is straight to the bathroom for me." She groaned.

"Something to drink?"

"I think I have some tea." Bobbie swung her feet down to the ground and made an attempt to move to the kitchen. Cruz was too fast for her and stood in front of her, gently pushing her back into the couch cushions with his hands.

"Where do you think you are going?"

"The kitchen?"

He shook his head. "You are obviously sick. So you aren't going anywhere. Sit. I'll get it."

"Cruz, don't' be ridiculous. I am perfectly capable of getting myself something to drink." Bobbie stood up quickly and regretted it almost immediately. The room spun in front of her and she felt herself begin to sway again. She couldn't afford to get sick. She had four weddings in the next two weeks that she had to put the finishing touches on. Morgan and Lance were starting back at school and she was determined to volunteer in their classes this year. She could not be sick.

Cruz put his hands out to steady her. "Listen Wonder Woman. I have no doubt that you could save the world tonight if you have to but you're sick. And I'm here to introduce a foreign concept to you. It's called help. Now sit down and let me take care of you."

"I appreciate it but..."

"No buts woman or I'll have to take drastic action." Apparently deciding she was most likely going to continue to argue, he bent down and swept her up in his arms, moving them towards the steps with her head tucked onto his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"Welcome to the whole concept of being helped. Now shut up and enjoy this will you?"