Happy New Year! If you all are enjoying this, you should thank my football-loving friend. This is her Christmas present from me and, because she's a lovely, amazing person, she's letting me post it here for you all. I wanted to have it all written out and under the tree, but the damn plot bunny I was chasing kept slipping away. As you can tell from the absence of updates, that's been a big problem for me lately. I know everyone wants an update to some of the other stories, but I can't write what I can't hear. I'll do what I can.

SPOV

After him having to sign an enormous amount of paperwork and me basically having to swear on the life of my firstborn that I would watch over him like a hawk for the next two days, they released Carlos to my care. We had heard through the staff that there were a few photographers milling around in the lobby. Normally he never minded them unless they got really intrusive. But today, between the pain he was in, the minimal sleep he ended up getting and the big, awkward cast, I decided that sneaking him out a different way was the best idea. The car service had an SUV idling at a seldom used side entrance and we managed to get Carlos from wheelchair to backseat with his leg propped up with relative ease. I sat next to the driver and turned so I could keep an eye on him as we headed across town. But, It had resumed sleeting and the swoosh of the windshield wipers dragged my eyelids down before we hit the first traffic light.

I came full awake as Carlos directed the driver to the underground parking garage of his swanky building. I hadn't thought this out very clearly. From the few times I'd been to his place, I knew that his apartment was a good fifty feet from the elevator. Given how much more pain he was feeling now, that was going to take a while. I was usually a way better planner than this.

"I should've gone to find a medical supply store and gotten you a wheelchair," I told him as he heaved himself out and leaned heavily on his crutches.

He looked at me aggrieved. "I don't need a wheelchair! I have to manage with these." He rattled his crutches a bit. "You don't have to baby me, Steph," he muttered harshly.

I had to swallow back a little bit of hurt at his tone. I wasn't used to that kind of attitude from him, and it stung more than I thought it would.

He must've seen it in my face and was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry, it's just…"

"Don't you dare apologize, you've had a shitty couple of days. I'm a lot tougher than that. Get your grumpy ass in the elevator."

He smiled sheepishly and hobbled into the open elevator car. Watching him limp down that long hallway to his front door was enough for me to prepare several arguments in favor of the Tylenol with codeine that Scott had sent home with him. If pain was going to get in the way of him being ambulatory, then I was going to coerce, cajole, bribe or beg him to take the damn stuff. There was something very sad in seeing such a large and fit man just struggling just to walk. I knew he'd get better, but I really hate it when people are in pain, especially people I care about.

The doorman met us outside Carlos' apartment, he fobbed us in and explained that he had placed several deliveries of flowers in the kitchen. I thanked him and followed a silent, white-faced Carlos to the couch. He collapsed backwards as soon as he was in range and I slid an ottoman under his outstretched cast.

"You okay?" I whispered.

"Yeah." He winced and inhaled sharply as he shifted his leg to a more comfortable position.

"I'll get you some water." He nodded and laid his head back, closing his eyes.

When the doorman had said they put some deliveries in the kitchen, he had grossly understated. Every inch of countertop was filled with vases of flowers, fruit baskets, teddy bears and cards. When I opened the fridge to grab his water, there were even fruit baskets in there too. I poked through the things on the kitchen island and found some baggy flannel PJ bottoms with Giants emblems all over them. The card attached to the basket holding them said they were from Ereck Flowers, there was also some pretty profuse apologizing in his card. I brought all three things to the living room for him, but stopped short. He was asleep. His face looking almost gaunt, his strong cheekbones and jaw seemed even sharper than usual, drawn from the last 24 hours. I placed his water within reach and covered him with a blanket, he stirred but didn't wake.

I wandered back into the kitchen. His place was familiar enough that I wasn't awkward there, but I wasn't completely at ease in someone else's space like this either. In an effort to dispel that 'I'm snooping' sense, I tried to do something useful. I went through the cabinets to see if he had anything that he could eat, there was some chicken and beef stock for cooking. That would have to do for today. Scott said that he could start on something more solid tomorrow. He had Greek yogurt up the wazoo in the fridge and I could probably have anything else he wanted delivered from around here. I scattered some of the get-well gifts around the living room and straightened some cushions. I checked out some of the pictures on the walls. I even found a photo with me in it. It was taken right after his very first contract negotiation and he looked so young in it. Immediately after signing the contract, Carlos' dad had insisted on snapping the pic, Carlos had been so exuberant, he had hopped up from his seat, dragged me to his side and his mother to the other, his dad next to her. I remembered it vividly, I was just surprised that this picture had made his wall and not the one of just him and his parents.

I checked on him again. Still asleep.

I checked my phone, but the sheer amount of calls and messages that needed to be returned made me feel faint. I texted my assistant to ask her to take care of the most important messages and buried my phone in my bag.

With nothing left to do and suspicious that the obnoxious smell I was catching was emanating from me I grabbed up the bag Lu had given me this morning and hit the bathroom. I was curious about the shower Carlos had told me was installed in the master suite, but it felt too snoopy to go in there to check it out, 8 showerheads or not. I settled for the large guest bath off the main hallway. It was plenty luxurious for me. My brownstone was in the process of being renovated, a state it had been in for nearly a year now. My bathroom was up for demo next, so it was in a pitiable state right now and the hot water heater was always sketchy. This wasn't a problem here, this building was only completed a year or so ago and had every possible amenity. Including, what seemed to be an unlimited supply of wonderful steamy-hot water. I was pruny and warm and sleepy by the time I wandered back into the living room. Carlos was now awake and had a little more color in his cheeks than before.

He looked me up and down and grinned like his old self. "Lula pick out your outfit too?"

"Ugh, yes, why do you think I didn't clean up at the hospital?" I tugged on the hem of my shorts in the hopes of somehow making them longer. "I asked her for yoga pants and this is what I got." The top wasn't bad, just a plain red t-shirt, but the shorts were skin tight and only 2 inches too long to be termed 'booty' shorts. "Do you want to get cleaned up? I could help you to the bathroom. Scott said no showers yet, right?" Somewhere in the litany of discharge dos and dont's I had heard something about that.

"Not until they remove the sutures." He scooted to the edge of the couch and arched a brow. "Are you going to sponge-bathe me too?"

"Haha, you are so freaking funny." I stepped in front of him and held out his crutches. "Come on stinky, you smell like hospital."

Taking the crutches he planted his good leg and pushed upwards, wobbling as he reached his full height. I grabbed the sides of his waist to steady him, stepping closer. Now, I'm no shorty, at 5'8" I'm generally the tallest woman in the room, but I had to tilt my head pretty far back to check his face for pain. He was looking down at me, a strange expression on his face.

"What? Does it hurt?"

He took a beat before answering. "Yeah," he murmured.

It took a moment for me to realize that I still had my hands on him, even though he was pretty steady. We were also about 3 inches apart and I didn't seem to want to back up.

Well this is awkward, and… nice.

I backed up then, feeling my cheeks warm. "I'll, uh, get you some towels."

He just nodded, his face serious.

I followed him down the hallway, confused when he passed the guest bath. "Carlos, where are you going?"

"Bathroom."

"But… the other one is closer." Too late, we were already in his room.

"But this one is better."

I had to agree with him once I took a look around. The master bath was better suited to his needs. It was huge! There was beautiful pale stone tile everywhere. And, wait, was the floor heated? During the day the large windows would flood the room with light. He pushed a button on the wall and the windows automatically blurred. One end of the room was entirely of shower stall with a built in bench and various types of water outlets, including a hand held shower head. He could sit on the bench and at least wash his hair, if I put a bag over his cast and sealed it as best as I could, he might be able to rinse off his body as well.

"It is better, you're right. Do you have garbage bags?"

"For this?" He pointed at his leg. "Under the sink in the kitchen."

I hustled out there, but only found small bags.

"Do you have…?" I stopped and swallowed hard. I had gone back to him in the bathroom to ask for bigger bags and found him shirtless, pantless and about to be boxer-less.

Oh, Holy shit!

"Wait!" I stopped him as he was about to drop his drawers. "There's nothing big enough that we can use to cover the cast. Can you just wash up for now?"

He sighed, "I guess, but my hair stinks." Between sweating under a helmet all day yesterday and the hospital stay, his hair was looking a little greasy.

"If you sit down, maybe you can use this." I reached past him and grabbed the hand held.

"It's worth a shot. I'm starting to itch."

He carefully lowered himself to the bench.

Smiling again, he asked, "Can you hand me that shampoo-body wash stuff?" I stepped all the way into the stall and put the bottle on the bench next to him.

"You're in a much better mood," I told him.

He shrugged. "I'm home, had a good nap and have good company." I snorted and grabbed some towels to lay on the floor.

"Just protecting my star client." I jokingly patted his face.

He grabbed my hand and held it there. "You'd do this," he smirked and waved his hand around, "for Vereen?" Shane Vereen was another client. Great kid, but no, I'd hire a nurse for him.

"No, just you sweetcheeks." I patted him again and backed away. Under the joking there was a weird tension. Not uncomfortable, just… odd.

I spotted a wicker box next to the big free standing tub, just high enough for him to prop his leg on to keep it out of the way. His smile slipped as I lifted his leg up and a pained little squeak slipped out. I caught his eyes for a second, his held a do-not-bring-up-pain-meds look, so I bided my time. I had a plan.

He was sitting in such a way that it would've been incredibly uncomfortable to rinse his hair. Guess who would have to do it for him? I know, poor me. Growing up in a lower-middle class neighborhood, there wasn't all that much money for college and law school. To make some tuition money I took a job at my grandma's favorite beauty salon and found that most people will become super pliable and relaxed when they're having their hair washed. Something about the warm water and scalp massage. Somewhere in the next ten minutes I would convince him to take his prescription.

"How do I turn the water on?" I asked, pushing buttons, hopping out of the way of the waterfall head just in time.

He laughed and pointed to the right faucet. "You're pretty agile, Steph. I was kind of looking forward to seeing you soaking wet." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows

"Seriously, you're unbelievably amusing today." Where would I be without sarcasm? I hit the right faucet this time and adjusted the water temperature. "Lean back a bit. I'll do this for you." He looked like he was going to argue for a second but relented, leaning his head against the tiled ledge on the wall. As soon as the warm water touched his head his whole body relaxed, even his breathing deepened and slowed. Grabbing the shampoo, I rubbed the delicious smelling lather into his longish hair, really massaging his scalp. "This okay?" I asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness in here.

"Feels so good," he murmured.

"Your leg?"

He smiled, "I can ignore it for right now."

I took a second to really look at him. From the first time I'd seen him all those years ago, I'd thought he was gorgeous. I might have even had a little crush on him. But, I was a 27 year old incredibly driven attorney, looking to make an impression in an overwhelmingly male dominated field. He was a 20 year old incredibly gifted college student. I had shut that avenue of thought right down. If anything had happened or if I even appeared to be starry eyed over my first big client, I would've been laughed out of my job. At the time my career was far more important than anything else. Still is really. At least that's what my last boyfriend accused me of when we broke up. "You're constantly on the phone for your clients," Bobby would say. It was kind of true, but he was an attorney too and I could accuse him of the same thing. I broke that off a month before Christmas. Our opinions on pretty much everything clashed and the constant arguing grated on my nerves. The only thing that I really missed was the frequent, good sex. Something I was becoming increasingly aware of standing here over this magnificent, nearly naked man. Even just running my hands through that thick hair of his was making things tingle. Add to that that every visible inch of him was perfectly, thickly, muscled. If I didn't employ that same ignore-it-and-it'll-go-away technique of long ago again soon, I might be in serious trouble here. I turned the water back on and rinsed the bubbles from his hair.

"Here," his eyes snapped open and focused on me as I spoke. "All done." I reached over him and grabbed a towel. "You can do the rest?"

"Yeah." He sat up, shifting on the bench. His injured leg slipped from the box it was propped on. He tensed all over as I grabbed the bottom of his foot before it could bang against the floor. "Fuuuuuuccccckkkk," he groaned.

"Shit! Are you okay?" I started patting his leg, cursing the stupid fucking cast because I couldn't see if something was wrong. "Should I call Scott?"

He was white lipped and breathing harshly. "No it's fine. Just, please, stop touching it!"

I yanked my hands away, feeling totally useless. "I'm so sorry." I bit my lip and grabbed the towel, shocked that I was actually close to tears. "What can I do? You wanted a sponge bath right?"

A little of his good mood returned. "That might help, yes."

I got to work drying the excess water from his hair and only getting marginally distracted by the little rivulets of water dripping down his body. He shifted and winced again.

Okay, it's time.

I soaped up the washcloth and smoothed it over his back. "Carlos?"

"Yes?"

I put a touch of begging in my voice. "I know you don't want to, but I think maybe it's time for you to take some of the meds that Scott sent you home with."

"I really don't want to, Steph." He didn't sound as adamant as before

I started working on his shoulders and arms. And tried another track. "How about before you go to bed tonight?" I moved to his chest. "How does your leg feel after that slip?"

He looked up at me a little abashed. "It's throbbing like crazy."

"If it still feels like that later, will you take it then?" He looked like he was going to say no. "Please?" He softened slightly. "It'll help you sleep better. And, if you sleep better, then so will I." I moved on to his abs, being careful to stay above his belly button. "Please?"

"Fine," he relented. "But, only right before I go to bed."

I couldn't help but smile in victory. He rolled his eyes but smiled too.

Okay, now I had a conundrum. While I washed his upper body, I had my manipulative plan to focus on. I'd won that battle. Now that was over and we still had his good leg and other lower body areas to tackle. Realizing that required far more fortitude than I possessed, I rinsed the washcloth, re-soaped it and handed it to him. "You're on your own with the last part."

He side-eyed me. "I never thought of you as a quitter before, Steph."

"Live and learn, my friend. I'll be over there." I stepped out of the stall and sat on the edge of the big free standing tub, facing away. I didn't even sneak a peak in the mirror.

He shut the water off and I listened as he toweled himself off. "Steph, can you hand me the crutches?" He asked after a minute.

I hopped up and tried to not drool. His boxers were in a wet heap on the tile by his foot and he had draped a towel around his middle. The contrast between the white, fluffy towel and the deep golden-tan of his skin was just…

I handed them to him silently. Sure that if I tried to speak, my tongue might unroll like a cartoon character. "Can I ask you for a big favor?" He asked. I only nodded in reply, still too tongue-tied. "Can you fix the towel around my waist?"

"Uh, yes, sure," I managed. He wasn't asking that for his sake. He was used to being naked around a lot of people in the locker room. Between players, training staff, coaches, and reporters, it was usually a pretty big crowd in there. Football players weren't known for their modesty. To him it was probably no big deal if I saw him in all his glory. He was asking that for my sake.

I stood close as he rose, worried that the crutches might slip out from underneath him on the wet tile. I caught the towel before it could slip all the way down. My cheek, a hair's breadth from his chest as I got the towel secured. I really hoped his parents were here by the time he needed another shower. I didn't think I'd survive another one.

He stopped in his closet on the way out of the bathroom and tried to balance and open a drawer.

"I'll get it, what do you need?" I pulled the drawer open and was faced with a myriad of undies. "Which ones?"

He really grinned then. "You pick."

I grabbed the ones at the top and followed him to the bed, he sat on the edge. Without discussion, I slipped the boxers over his feet and brought them up to his knees. "You got it from here? I'll be right back." I didn't wait for his answer. I fled to the living room and tried to calm down. Remember what I said about his appeal? Well, he was magnetically appealing to me right now, and I wasn't dealing very well with it. Not only was I feeling horribly unprofessional things for a client, he was seriously injured and vulnerable. Add to that, I was disgustingly moral for a lawyer and he was still technically dating someone else. Even if I couldn't stand her, I had more self-worth than to get involved with an unavailable man. That last was moot anyway. If he was interested in me for anything more than guiding his career, he would've indicated that in some way over the last 12 years we had known each other.

UGH! Totally overthinking this! It's not astounding that I find a beautiful man attractive when he's almost naked right in front of me!

Grabbing Ereck's gift and card, I went back to his bedroom. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, back to the door, staring through the window at the now lit up NY skyline. "I meant to show you this before, but you were sleeping."

He saw what I was holding and barked out a laugh. "Where did those come from?" He asked as I slipped them over his feet. They were just baggy enough that they fit over his cast.

"Ereck."

He snorted. "Do you have any idea how many times he apologized yesterday?" He stood on his good leg, balancing with my shoulders. I pulled his new pants all the way up.

"Yes, I heard him." I smiled up at him. "He felt so bad."

His hands tightened slightly on my shoulders. "You looked really worried too."

"I was. I'd never seen you in so much pain. And then I saw your leg…" I bit my lip and swallowed, that damn lump in my throat had reappeared.

"Hey," he said gently, looking pretty aware that I was about to cry. "It'll get better eventually. I'll be running in no time."

I looked down, fighting tears. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be making you feel better, not the other way around." I rubbed my eyes roughly. "I must be more tired than I realized. I'm getting too old for all- nighters anymore."

He pulled me into a really tight hug. Surprising me with the action and the strength behind it. "Thank-you for being here with me. It means a lot to me, Steph." I found myself smiling, resting my cheek against the base of his neck, my hands splayed on his wide, warm back, the thump of his heart steady and soothing.

It wasn't until I felt and heard his stomach growl that I managed to pull away from him. "I'm going to get us something to eat and you are going to get comfy on this enormous bed. I'll be right back."

That grin was back. "Si jefe!"

I walked away as he fell back onto that enticingly comfy looking bed. A smile to match his stretched across my face.

Yeah, so, he could've washed himself, but I think she deserved to get her hands on him here. To get an idea of their homes you can google Hoboken condo for him. His is modern but still very comfortable. Steph's brownstone is a three story beauty in Brooklyn Heights and is basically my dream home. Google search Brooklyn brownstone and you'll get the idea.