"So," Jane smirks as she regards my prone form through half-lidded eyes. "What you're telling me is that I actually fucked you senseless?"

Ignoring her purposely crude language, I roll my eyes in response. "It's impossible to actually be senseless, Jane." I stretch languidly, enjoying the coolness of the sheets as I extend my legs. "While there have been several documentations of humans having more than one type of disability, there have been no conclusive studies of someone lacking the five basic senses."

She whacks me softly with the back of her hand. "Do you have to be so literal, all the time?"

"Technically, no. It's impossible to be literal all the time; as the definition of literal is to take words in their usual or most basic sense without using metaphor or allegory." I clear my throat softly and hide a grin. I know my next sentence will drive Jane over the edge. "Because I spend an average of 7 hours per day sleeping where I abstain from speaking, it's safe to say that I am literal during my waking hours, or approximately 70.83 percent of the time."

"Ohmigod." She mutters, burying her face in her pillow. I chuckle, fully realizing the effect I have on her.

"I believe what I said," I begin, trying again, as I lightly trace one hand down the curve of her back, "is that you blew my mind."

"And what's the technical term for that, miss smarty pants?" Jane questions, her husky voice muffled by her pillow. Her dark eyes peer at me from behind a curtain of wavy chocolate hair. She is stunning.

"Hmm." I frown, trying to come up with a solution. "I do not have the mechanics to answer your question." I speak in monotone, letting all emotion fade from my face.

Her eyes widen. "I knew it. You are a robot."

I'm able to keep my composure for a few seconds before breaking into a relaxed smile. "I love you." I tell her softly, and she happily scrunches herself closer to me and rests her head on my shoulder.

"Are robots capable of love?" She asks seriously. "I mean, isn't that one of those ethics questions that you scientists have to figure out all the time while you're working on the cyborgs that will eventually be our downfall?"

I regard her stoic face briefly before responding. "No more sci-fi channel for you. Besides the ridiculous programming they routinely feature, I don't approve of the way they always paint scientists as unstable individuals obsessed with playing God."

Jane pouts. "It's better than always having to watch the Discovery Health channel. I swear to God, if you make me watch one more heart transplant where some poor piggy heart is shoved into a fat guy who didn't watch his cholesterol, I'm going to kill myself." Frowning, she continues, "and it's mean. What did the poor pig ever do to deserve that?"

Chuckling, I'm amazed at how easily she amuses me. "I'll remind you of that the next time you're eating bacon."

"Good point." She adds, sleepily.

We fall into a comfortable silence, the early summer breeze filling the bedroom with an intoxicating scent – a mixture of backyard barbeques and flowers.

"What would you like to do today?" I interrupt our peaceful respite. "Considering, of course, that it's already 3pm and we haven't gotten out of bed yet other than to use the bathroom and have a bowl of cereal."

"This." She states firmly, her eyes closed.

Concerned, I take in the paleness of her face and the lean contours of her body. Summer has not been kind to the homicide department this year, with the warm weather always comes the usual crimes, and Boston has had more than its share. Speculation is that after a brutal winter, thanks to the increase of snow and ice from usual standards, Bostonians have gone a little stir crazy. Now that the weather has turned for the better, crime is soaring, and Jane is working longer hours with less staff help due to the budget decrease.

"Well, lucky for you I'm a doctor." I can't help but continue to tease her. "And doctor's orders are for you to stay in bed, all day."

She squints open one dark eye. "Really?"

I nod. "Really."

Sinking further into the mattress, a ghost of a smile graces her face. "Are you gonna examine me?" She grins now, obviously proud of herself. "Ya know, to make sure I'm healthy?"

I nod vigorously. "Oh yes. Very thoroughly." I push myself up from the mattress and plant a kiss to her shoulder. "However, first I will bring you breakfast, well lunch rather, in bed." I make my way to the bedroom door, pulling a light robe on in the process. "Any requests?"

"Uh, yeah." She says, sheepishly. "No bacon."