Robin watches her as she enters. He sees the way that she takes in every picture with that smile and her fingertips. It stays with him even as he shifts his gaze to put the flan into the oven to cook. He walks out of the kitchen in time to take hold of her jacket when she shrugs it off
( ... )
It smells really good. And he's walking out of the kitchen which means there will be a special dinner aside from the breakfast he made her this morning. This looks promising. Rachel does like it when he feeds her, she won't lie.
"Oh, really?" she asks with a laugh. It's the first one she's had today that's come so easily. "Here I thought my word was law. I'm crushed, Robin."
No, she's not. She's smiling, the kiss lingering on her lips long after he's pulled away. The smile curves into something gentler, subdued in its quiet meaning when she reaches for the rose.
Rachel has never been the romantic sort; she's been far too pragmatic to possess it. But then, no one's ever looked at her or treated her the way Robin has. She never wanted anyone to, until him
( ... )
Robin likes being able to feed her, and he likes having a reason to cook. He's good at it, not as good as he is at making coffee, but he is good.
He smiles when she laughs. It's a sound that he loves and cherishes. Every detail of the day has already been worth it at that sound.
"Well, that's another part of your birthday gift. A crushing of what you thought you knew," Robin says with a slow, easy smirk, and his hand rests against her shoulder, which he pats. "I'm sorry."
He doesn't look sorry at all, of course. There's still that smirk on his face as if he's far too pleased with everything at the moment.
Robin watches as that smile becomes more subdued. He senses the quietness and the sincerity that she takes in all of these details with, and he appreciates it. When she says thank you, he feels that in his heart, and it's all he can do to stop himself from giving thanks in return. She is here in front of him. She is someone that he can share so much with. She makes every day infinitely better with her presence. In a way, every
( ... )
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"Oh, really?" she asks with a laugh. It's the first one she's had today that's come so easily. "Here I thought my word was law. I'm crushed, Robin."
No, she's not. She's smiling, the kiss lingering on her lips long after he's pulled away. The smile curves into something gentler, subdued in its quiet meaning when she reaches for the rose.
Rachel has never been the romantic sort; she's been far too pragmatic to possess it. But then, no one's ever looked at her or treated her the way Robin has. She never wanted anyone to, until him ( ... )
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He smiles when she laughs. It's a sound that he loves and cherishes. Every detail of the day has already been worth it at that sound.
"Well, that's another part of your birthday gift. A crushing of what you thought you knew," Robin says with a slow, easy smirk, and his hand rests against her shoulder, which he pats. "I'm sorry."
He doesn't look sorry at all, of course. There's still that smirk on his face as if he's far too pleased with everything at the moment.
Robin watches as that smile becomes more subdued. He senses the quietness and the sincerity that she takes in all of these details with, and he appreciates it. When she says thank you, he feels that in his heart, and it's all he can do to stop himself from giving thanks in return. She is here in front of him. She is someone that he can share so much with. She makes every day infinitely better with her presence. In a way, every ( ... )
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