He hovered behind her, just like a cloud, as she walked in the door. He stayed there until she was settled into his couch.
He ran into his kitchen, grabbing her a water bottle, an ice pack, and a bottle of ibuprofen.
He walked back over to her, twisting the cap off of the bottle of water and popped a couple pills out into the lid.
"Deeks, its just a bruised rib, I'll be fine."
"No. You're in pain, take them."
Relief sounded pretty enticing, and even if she didn't want to be clouded by the medication. She rolled her eyes, but did as she was told.
He offered the ice pack to her, and once again, she tried to claim she didn't need it. "I'm just tired."
"Tired? Fine," he claimed. "So please don't argue."
He scooped her up in his arms, pulling her into him gently, and carefully set her down on his bed. He rid her of her jeans, and gently lifted her shirt over her head. He let her slip into one of his loose LAPD sweatshirts, and pulled the blanket up over her. Then he gently pressed the ice pack to her rib.
"Better?"
"Glad I didn't argue, that's for damn sure."