Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and I don't make any money off of them.
A/N: I'd like to thank my wonderful, tireless beta, ritt, for all of her help.
Robin Brooks stared in shock at the man standing on her doorstep – Special Agent Don Eppes. He was dressed in jeans, a black dress shirt, and a black jacket, looking like he'd just stepped out of an action movie. She'd had many fantasies involving him standing on her doorstep ever since the first night he had come to visit her, but this was definitely not one of those fantasies. "Don?" Robin croaked in surprise, immediately embarrassed at how unattractive her voice sounded.
A warm smile lit up his face. "I called your office and they told me you were out sick. I wanted to come by and see how you were feeling."
"I'm fine," she automatically responded.
"I know you're fine," Don grinned and winked at her. "But I wanted to know how you're feeling."
Robin's mind was spinning from the fever and the cold meds in her system, so it took her a minute to process his words. He knows I'm fine? Did he just flirt with me? A blush colored her cheeks at that thought and she self-consciously shifted the half-empty kleenex box in her hand. Robin knew her hair was limp and unwashed, her eyes were red-rimmed, and her nose could give Rudolph a run for his money – but Don had just flirted with her! She realized he was waiting for her to answer so she calmed her racing heart and replied, "I'm feeling much better, thanks."
"Really?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "No offense, but you don't look like it." Don stepped closer to the door – closer to her – and gazed at her. Just as she was getting lost in his warm, brown eyes, Don broke the moment. "You've still got a fever," he told her softly.
"It's not that high," Robin meekly responded.
"Right," Don murmured softly. "So, sofa or bed?"
Wait – is Don really so insensitive that he's thinking about sex while I'm sick as a dog? "What?" she asked in shock.
He chuckled softly. "I meant, are you crashing on the sofa or in your bed?" Robin stared at him, still uncomprehending, so Don gently added, "I always crash on the sofa when I'm sick."
Of course that's what he meant. God, those cold meds must really be doing a number on me. "Um, my bed."
"Then you should get back there," he told her. "May I help you?"
Robin blushed yet again, picturing the mess of wadded kleenex that littered her bedroom and the sink full of unwashed dishes in the kitchen. "I... um, the house is really a mess."
Before she realized it, Don was standing inside, the front door closed and locked behind him. "I promise not to tell anyone," he laughed softly as he gestured to the stairway. "Upstairs?"
"What?" God, those cold meds really should come with warnings – 'May cause stupidity around attractive members of the opposite sex', Robin thought to herself.
Don smiled again, his brown eyes twinkling in amusement. "Your bedroom. May I escort you upstairs?"
"Oh," Robin nervously laughed. "That's really not necessary. I've been managing by myself."
Don gently looped an arm around her waist and gazed down into her eyes. "Shouldn't have to," he whispered.
Robin opened her mouth to counter, but Don had already started guiding her up the steps. She smiled and let him lead her, knowing he knew the way after the few and far between evenings they'd shared together. Don pushed open the door, silently shaking his head at the numerous tissues on the floor. "What?" she softly demanded.
"Remind me never to put you on my basketball team."
"My aim is fine when I'm not sick," Robin protested as she summoned up a grin. "Or have you forgotten the shooting range?"
"No ma'am," Don chuckled. "I never forget a woman who can handle a big gun with that much skill."
If she hadn't been so sick, Robin would have pounced on that opening. Instead she sighed in contentment as he swept her into his arms and gently laid her on the bed. Don leaned over her as he tenderly brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Have you been eating?" he asked.
"A little soup," Robin answered, closing her eyes as his hand continued running through her hair. If she was a cat she would have been purring loud enough to wake the dead.
"Canned?" he asked. Robin nodded as she leaned into the warm hand on her cheek. "That's not good enough for you. Let me see what I can whip up."
"You cook?" she asked in surprise. Robin had cooked for them on one of their first dates, but Don had never said a word about his own culinary skills.
"When I need to," Don whispered. She felt his soft, warm lips press against her forehead. "You rest for a while and I'll make you some good, homemade soup."
"Okay," Robin sighed sleepily. Moments later she fell asleep, still feeling the warmth from his kiss long after he'd left the room.
Robin woke sometime later to a delicious aroma. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes she heard Don's footsteps coming up the stairs. Moments later the bedroom door swung open revealing her man – where'd that come from? she idly wondered – carrying a small bowl of soup.
"How are you feeling?" Don asked as he sat on the bed next to her.
"Better," Robin told him. "That smells great."
"Homemade chicken soup," he grinned as he handed her the bowl. "Eppes family secret."
She smiled back and took a tentative sip, immediately nodding in appreciation. "I think this is the best soup I've ever had." Robin dug in, suddenly feeling very hungry, and soon the bowl was empty. Much to her chagrin, she realized she'd wolfed down the entire bowl in front of Don, and to top it all off, she felt a trickle of soup running down her chin. Just when Robin thought she would die of embarrassment, Don reached out and delicately wiped her chin with his finger.
"Mmm," he mumbled as he licked his finger. "That is good."
Robin couldn't help but laugh at the goofy expression on his face, her previous mortification long forgotten. She loved that he could cheer her up so quickly and had a sudden, overwhelming need to share her feelings. "Thank you," Robin whispered as she grasped his hand. "For everything."
"My pleasure, Miss Brooks," he breathed softly, leaning over and placing a kiss on her cheek.
She fought the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl as she basked in his affection. She laid her head on his shoulder and noticed the time on her bedside clock. "Oh no! It's after midnight."
"So?" Don asked gently as he toyed with her hair.
"You have work tomorrow," Robin argued.
"I don't," he told her, moving his hand to cup her cheek. "I took the day off so I could be with you."
"You... you did?"
Don chuckled. "You sound like my team. Apparently – according to them – I never take a day off."
"Well," Robin fumbled. "You don't."
"I don't usually have a good reason to." Don shifted on the bed until he was propped against the headboard next to Robin. She allowed him to pull her into his arms so that she was lying across his chest with her head resting on his shoulder. "But I couldn't think of a better reason than this."
Robin remained silent as his words hit home. She knew things had been going well, and though they both had busy schedules, they had tried to see each other as much as possible. But until he spoke those words, Robin hadn't realized just how much Don cared about her. She relaxed her body and molded herself against his muscular frame as she lightly ran her hands across his firm chest and stomach. "Me neither," she sighed, closing her eyes as he laid his head on top of hers.
"Go to sleep," he whispered softly. She nodded as his hand lightly rubbed up and down her arm, leaving a pleasant trail of warmth in its wake. "You'll feel better tomorrow."
"Okay," Robin breathed, although she doubted that she could ever feel better than she did at this moment.
Morning came and Robin woke to sunlight streaming through her window. She opened her eyes and was alarmed as she realized the bed beside her was empty. He left? she thought sadly. But I thought he was staying. Robin sniffled – from the cold, she told herself – as she wearily climbed out of bed. She noticed that all of the tissues had been picked up and put in the trash can. Well, at least he did that much.
Robin made her way downstairs, stopping halfway down as she heard a loud, male voice coming from her kitchen. She silently crept down the rest of the steps and peered into the kitchen. She fought back a fit of laughter at the sight that greeted her.
There – in front of her kitchen sink, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pink apron tied around his waist, stood Don – washing her dishes while singing at the top of his lungs. As she recognized the song he was singing, Robin couldn't hold back the laughter anymore.
Don looked up in surprise, the words 'Secret Agent Man' dying on his lips. He quickly composed himself and beamed at her. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Much better," she told him as she padded into the kitchen and placed a kiss on his cheek. She glanced around at the spotless counters and almost empty sink. "You didn't have to do this you know."
Don just grinned. "I know, but I guess I'm a slave to my lover."
Robin raised her eyebrows. "Really? My slave?" She grinned mischievously before playfully pouting. "We never did get to work on the lover part last night."
Don moved lightning quick and pinned her against the kitchen counter. "No," his husky voice breathed. "We never did. Thought we'd save that till you were up to it." He planted his mouth against hers and her knees buckled at the passion of his kiss. He held her upright as he continued to explore her mouth with his tongue, finally withdrawing so they both could catch their breath. His eyes were dark with desire as he waggled his eyebrows. "You up to it?"
"Oh yeah," Robin whispered as she grabbed his arm and led him from the kitchen, apron and all.