Title: Could We Have Pudding Pops Instead?

Author: Beth Pryor

Rating: K

Summary: A little early Annie/Auggie post Season 3 relationship piece where Annie again comes to Auggie's rescue after a serious(ly comic) situation.

Disclaimer: Covert Affairs and its characters belong to the USA Network.

A/N: The title and insinuations at the end of this definitely date me and the world in which I grew up. I hope the concept, at least, is universal.

Could We Have Pudding Pops Instead?

"Hey."

His voice sounded a bit tinny, like he was on speaker phone with sound bouncing off tiled walls and floors. A bathroom?

"Hey. I'm on my way to the arena. Are you there already?" She was running way late.

"Um, no. Change of plans. Can you come here?"

She didn't immediately pick up on the strain in his voice as she considered the logistics of what he was asking and instead protested. "We'll miss the puck drop, and I have no idea where we'll park."

"It's fine. We'll figure it out afterward." He almost snapped.

"Okay." She pulled into an illegal space on G Street, within sight of the Verizon Center and re-routed her GPS to the most direct course back to his apartment. The Caps game had been his idea, not hers, so why was he not there? "Are you okay?" She finally thought to ask.

"Technically, no, but yes, but can you just come here?"

"God, Auggie! Why didn't you say something?" She swerved back into traffic. Horns blared from both sides of the street.

"I didn't want to freak you out, but it seems like we've crossed that bridge."

"What's wrong?" She had righted the car and was now headed in his direction.

"Why don't you just hang up and drive. I'll be fine until you get here."

"Auggie!"

"See you in a bit."

"Auggie!" He was gone.

She tried to keep her wits about her as she drove to his building, pulled into the garage and found the space beside the Corvette she still kept in the covered garage. She ran up the three additional flights of stairs to his apartment and pushed open the unlocked door. A tool box and a towel littered the floor next to a rather large smear of blood on the edge of the coffee table and the floor beneath. She heard voices in the bathroom.

"Auggie!" Annie called as she hopped the steps to where he was.

A man in work coveralls met her at the door to the bathroom. "He wouldn't let me take him to the hospital. He wanted to wait for you," he explained. "I'm real sorry. I didn't think I'd still be here when he got home. I left the tool box in the middle of the living room floor."

Annie nodded distractedly, trying to get through the maintenance man to Auggie. He stepped out of her way and she entered to find Auggie sitting on the edge of the tub, leaning back against the wall of the shower. What she could see of his left eye was already swollen and turning black. He held a rag on the gash above his eyebrow, but blood intermittently seeped out from beneath the slipshod pressure dressing.

"Oh, Auggie."

He pulled off the rag. "Do you think it's going to need stitches?" She looked at the depth and the jagged edges all immediately obscured by a fresh flow of blood.

"Yeah, and it's not a clean edge. I don't think I can glue it." She pressed his hand with the rag back against his head, and he winced. "What else did you hurt?"

"My wrist is aching, but I don't think it's broken."

"Did you hit your head hard?" She carefully probed from his hairline back with her fingers.

"I've hit it harder with other things."

"That may be part of the issue," she mumbled as she took a seat across from him on the toilet.

"Dave is a pretty good nurse, though. Not squeamish about blood at all. Good thing to know about your plumber."

Annie chuckled, relieved that he was well enough to still make jokes. "I didn't know that was something to look for in a plumber."

"Well, neither did I, but I'm glad he had the extra skill set. Said he was a medic in Desert Storm." Auggie laughed then winced as he adjusted his left hand. "He was really freaked out at first, though."

"Um, yeah, and with good reason! Who expects a tenant to bite it on the toolbox when he walks in the door?"

"Right. Make it all about him." Auggie feigned a pout.

"I do feel bad for the guy. You probably looked dead. Except for the moaning. I'm assuming there was moaning?" Annie asked delicately, hoping she hadn't taken the jest too far.

Auggie chortled. "Oh yeah. There was moaning. And cursing."

"What was he doing here, anyway?"

Color flooded the rest of Auggie's face. "I must have flushed a sock or something. Everything was clogged and overflowing this morning."

"Oh, Auggie." She realized she kept saying the same thing over and over, but what else was there to say?

He raised his free hand, palm out, to her. "I know, I know. The story keeps getting better and better."

"I'm thinking I should clean up the crime scene, and we should get you to the ER."

He frowned and winced again. "An ER will take forever. Maybe an Urgent Care, and we can still make the third period?"

"Do you have a preference?"

He smiled meekly. "I try to mix it up so they don't think someone's kicking the crap out of me and call Adult Protective Services. Although, I haven't needed them for a while," he sounded a little more impressed with himself than the current situation could possibly allow.

"Still, probably a smart move. Can you stand?" She walked toward him.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good." He protested as she tried to help him up. He swayed just a bit too much for her comfort as he took his first steps. "Maybe I did hit a little harder than I thought," he conceded.

She guided a wobbly Auggie to the kitchen and sat him squarely in a chair while she changed out his ice pack and applied a tight fitting dressing to his head.

"I swear, Auggie, when I come through that door I'm not sure if I'll find a jazz concert episode of the Cosby Show or you half dead in the bathroom."

He was glad she was also seeing the humor in the situation and grinned in an attempt to disarm her. "Oh, Walker, you know I have to keep you guessing."

She reached around and kissed him on the right cheek before she moved to gather his things. "I'm guessing I'll have to stick around and see what else you have up your sleeve."

"My head and I are hoping it will be a Cosby Show moment," he sighed as he accepted a jacket and a cane and moved slowly toward the door with her. "You know," he realized as they stepped into the hall, "I just may have an appropriate sweater for the occasion."

She shook her head and kept them moving. "As long as you don't pull out the Tyrannosaurus dance moves, I'm good."

"Come on, Walker," he winked in her general direction. "You're way more than good."

She didn't respond. He let his hand trail down her forearm and his fingers entwined hers with a quick squeeze. She slowed and turned back toward him. Bravado just wasn't the way to go right now, and he realized it. She moved closer and he leaned his head down on hers. Annie sighed and shivered into his body. He could sense how worried she had been.

He tried another approach. "Thank you, Annie."

She stayed against his chest. "You're always welcome, Auggie, but just be careful."

He started to protest, but again caught himself as she bristled. "Okay."

She relaxed a bit and nodded against him. She squeezed his hand, and they continued down the hall.