She smiled with a sigh. “I would have found a way to bust my ass with you holding my hand, and I think you know that.”

He laughed, wrapping her foot up in his hand and rubbing his thumbs into the arch. “The clumsy does run deep, huh?” he grinned, his hands working over her aching joints, but not stressing her tender injury.

She could feel the tension easing, some of the swelling in her foot and toes calming down under his touch.

“So how was your first day back?” he asked, swapping his attention to the other foot.

Rachel paused for a minute, watching the careful way he held her, the gentle way he worked his fingers against her skin. “I mean...it could have been better? Could’ve been worse?”

“Ah,” he said before he pressed his lips into a thin line. “So on a scale of one to workplace-fuckery, you were sitting around a ‘meh’?”

He had a way of making her feel like nothing was worth sweating over too much. That whatever it was that was bothering her just shouldn’t. That he was there for her, and that they’d get through it together. That she could lean on him and he’d gladly shoulder the extra weight.

“Yeah. ‘Meh’ sounds about right.”

“So,” he said, shifting the conversation “I was gonna cook for you, but I figured you’d actually like to enjoy your meal after a long day.” He flashed her a wink.

“Mmm, very astute of you,” she teased.

“Hey!” he reprimanded, his hands stilling on her skin. “I’m allowed to self-deprecate, but no one said you could pile on.”

“Sorry, sorry, go on…” she encouraged.

“So…” he drew it out, teasing her even more with the way he exaggerated the start of his sentence, “I ordered in…”

“Little Duck!?”

He huffed in feigned annoyance. “The art of surprise is entirely lost on you, isn’t it?”

“You act like I shouldn’t know that you’d order pad thai for such an illustrious occasion.”

He gave her foot a small squeeze before he spoke. “Fair.” He continued working over her sore joints with his strong hands, both of his thumbs driving the tension out of the arch on this foot too. “But, I think I can still surprise you,” he waggled his brows.

“Oh, really?” Rachel grinned.

“Mhm,” he hummed, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“We’ll see…”

He didn’t respond, he simply shook his head. “I’m gonna go grab some ice for this, because...while I know I have a magical touch with these,” he held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “This bad boy,” he pointed to her swollen ankle, “needs the frozen peas treatment.”

She chuckled at him as he carefully lifted her feet from his lap and sat them down on a pillow he tucked under them.

“One sec,” he said, skipping off into the kitchen.

Rachael heard him digging around in the freezer, whistling and puttering around in the drawers for a minute or so before she heard the sound of a bunch of ice skittering across the kitchen floor. “Dyl! You alright?” she asked, sitting up a bit, holding her weight up on her palms.

“I got it!” he said, poking his head around the corner as he chased down an ice cube that had bounced through the threshold into the dining room. “Nothing to see here...don’t get up. I got it under control.”

“All right…just don’t hurt yourself. We can’t both be laid up,” she covered her eyes for a moment with her forearm, clearing her head before she laid back and relaxed, listening to him laugh a little bit before he started to whistle.

“Gotcha, you little fucker,” he said, presumably to an ice cube he’d tracked down in the kitchen. He strode back out into the living room, proudly holding a ziplock bag of ice and a tea towel. “M’lady,” he bowed, presenting the bag like it was a glass slipper on a velvet pillow.

She scooched along the couch to make a bit more space for him to sit down when the doorbell rang.

“Thai!” he almost shouted, wrapping the bag of ice in the tea toweL. He rested it on the pillow and set her ankle on it. “Hold that there,” he said, rushing for the door and flinging it open.

“Will do.”

Their dinner was sitting on the doorstep. “God. Don’t you just fucking love DoorDash?” he asked, plucking the bag from the ground before he shut the door. “Gone are the days of awkward conversations with food-peddling strangers. I couldn’t be happier about it.”

“Are you saying you don’t miss that long minute of awkward silence while you’re waiting for the transaction to finish?”

Dylan walked over and sat the bag on the coffee table. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed.

Dylan walked past her to the kitchen and grabbed some drinks before he snatched the remote control off the end table and turned on the TV. “Dinner and a movie?” he asked, looking over at her.

“Sure,” she smiled, sitting up a bit.

“Ah, ah,” he tisked, walking around to her side of the couch, standing over her and grabbing a pillow from the chair to place behind her back. “Rest,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

Rachael sighed at the sweet gesture, but she wanted a little bit more than sweet. When he pulled back from her, she reached and pulled him down to her so that she could kiss him properly. His mouth was quick to adapt to the sudden need hers had for it. He leaned down even more to deepen their connection and his hands were soon knotting into the waves of her hair.

When she felt like she needed a breath, he cradled her face in his hand and peppered her lips and cheek with small kisses until his lips were brushing against the skin of her neck below her ear.

“Someone’s hungry,” he teased.

She smirked, brushing her lips over his ear. “Yeah...but mostly for thai food.”

“Ouch,” he laughed as he stood, “way to hurt a man’s feelings,” he feigned a gutshot as he walked back around the coffee table.

She tucked her legs back long enough for him to flop down onto the couch and adjust the cushion so that it was propped up on his thigh before she rested her ankle on it again.

He turned on the TV and opened Hulu. “Never Been Kissed?” he asked, pausing on the preview screen.

“Really, Dyl?”

“What!?”

“I thought you were going to surprise me?” she teased

He turned to her, looking less than impressed. “Alright, smartass. You pick.” He tossed her the remote.

“Fine,” she said, picking it up as he leaned forward and started taking the food out of the bag. He set her box of pad thai down in front of her, along with a pair of wrapped chopsticks. She grinned when she found the perfect movie. “This one,” she said clicking on it.

Dylan looked up at the TV, and his expression turned to indignation before he turned to her. “Really?” he asked before he ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip.

“You said I could pick!” she whined. “I’m injured and sad…” she pouted, batting her lashes.

He narrowed his eyes, but she knew she had him wrapped around her finger.

He drew in a long breath and sighed it out before he spoke. “Fine..”