Robin’s condo building was one of several on the same block, all of them light-colored, five-story Spanish colonial structures. The entryway to the foyer stood out from the rest of the building, and on top of its roof I spotted twin gargoyles peering down ominously at passersby below. I keyed in the access code for the front door Robin had given me, then took the elevator to his floor and knocked on his door. Faint, upbeat music played beyond the door, and I took that as a good sign. If Robin were at death’s door, I doubted he’d be listening to dance music.

The lock clicked. The door opened. Robin, dressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants, opened the door. His hair was combed back from his face, and he wore long green rubber gloves. The front of his shirt was wet.

I’d been expecting to find him weak and in bed, so seeing him like that stunned me.

“Hello,” Robin said awkwardly. “I told you I’d be fine, didn’t I? I think it was just food poisoning. I don’t feel sick at all.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, gesturing at his gloves.

Robin looked where I was pointing. “Oh.” He chuckled. “Uh, I was cleaning. I’ve only been here a month, but somehow the condo is a disaster. It’s disgusting.”

I looked into the condo from over his shoulder. The floors sparkled, and I’d never seen walls so white and scuff-free in rental housing. The hallway beyond the door was void of clutter or mess. It was hard to imagine that there’d be anything dirty inside when even the hallway looked pristine. “Disgusting?”

“It’s… you don’t see it?” He looked over his shoulder and gestured vaguely at… something. I supposed it was what he believed to be the alleged disaster. “It’s really dirty. I came home and, even though I wasn’t feeling well, I couldn’t stop noticing all the dust and dirt.”

“I’m not sure I see anything…” It occurred to me that, if Robin were really sick, he might be delusional. High fevers could invoke hallucinations. If he was seeing dirt that wasn’t there and exerting himself when what he really needed was rest, he’d burn himself out. I didn’t want that to happen. “Do you think I can come in?”

“No.” Robin bristled. He stood rigidly in the doorway, defiant, and locked eyes with me. “You can’t come in.”

“Will you humor me, then, and let me check your temperature?”

Some of Robin’s anger deflated. His posture loosened, and he glanced down the hall before shaking his head, seemingly to himself. “Fine. I guess you can come in. But stay out of the kitchen—I was just mopping in there.”

There was something going on, and whatever it was made me uneasy. I followed Robin into the condo as he stepped back and snapped off his gloves, then closed the door behind us. The song playing on the stereo changed. Robin carried his gloves down the hall to an open doorway, then tossed them through. They flopped onto something hard with a rubbery plop.

“Have you been cleaning since you got home?” I asked cautiously.

Robin headed from that doorway to another, inviting me to follow with a wave of his hand. “Yep.”

“You should have been resting,” I said as I trailed after him. We entered the living room, where the stereo system was set up. Robin’s phone had been left on the coffee table, plugged into the speakers. He woke the screen and stopped the music, then turned off the stereo and unplugged his device.

“Blame my Mills genes,” he said with a shrug. “I can’t not work, Troy. That’s not the way I am. Even if I’m feeling sick, I need to do something to keep my mind busy.”

“There’s always sudoku,” I said dryly. Now that he was stationary, I closed the distance between us and took the opportunity to check his forehead with the back of my hand. While he was a little clammy from cleaning, he didn’t feel hot. Maybe it really had been food poisoning. Still…

Robin swatted at my hand. “Are you satisfied? I told you that I was better.”

“Have you eaten anything? You didn’t eat that chicken Caesar wrap.”

Robin paled. I was sure that if it got any worse, he’d start to turn green. He shook his head. “Don’t even talk about food right now.”

If the very mention of food turned his stomach, something was still wrong. Whether it was food poisoning or something more sinister, it kicked my protective instincts into overdrive. Robin was sick, and if he kept wearing himself out, he wasn’t going to get better. What he needed was rest. Even if I had to stay all night, I’d make sure he got it.

“You’re still sick,” I remarked.

“Passably sick,” he protested.

“If you’re not eating, it’s only going to get worse.”

He waved a hand frantically, face twisting with displeasure. “Can you please stop with the eating thing? Like, no mention of any of that at all, or I will puke all over your fancy polished shoes.”

“Will you go rest in bed if I ask you to?”

Robin looked at me like I was insane. “No.”

“Then I accept my future punishment.” I scooped Robin up into my arms as he gasped and flailed, then carried him from the living room and down the hall in search of the bedroom. I knew that acting out against my master’s word would land me in trouble, and that I’d pay for what I was doing, but that concerned me less than Robin’s state of health. If he didn’t learn to slow down and take care of himself when he needed it the most, he was going to get worse, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.

“Troy!” Robin squeaked. He pushed at my chest with his palms. “What the hell do you think you’re doing! I’m not a baby!”

“Then you need to man up and take care of yourself.”

“Troy!”

I found the bedroom at the end of the hall and carried Robin through the door. While he was tall, he was slender, and I didn’t find his weight inhibiting. I laid him on the bed as he glared daggers at me, but, to my delight, he didn’t immediately spring to his feet or try to bolt past me. Instead, he stayed in bed.

“I’m not happy,” he said.

I smiled. “And I wasn’t happy thinking about you working yourself ragged while you’re not feeling well. Even if it is food poisoning, you need to give yourself time to recover from it. All the dirt you were talking about? The mess? It can wait for another day. Give yourself the next four or five hours off, then call it a night. I want you better.”

The anger on his face lessened. He glared at me, but his eyes had lost their ferocity. “You are getting into so much trouble for this.”

“Good.” I smoothed a hand through his hair, and as I did, the last of his anger disappeared. He shivered. “If I have to pay the price so you’ll take time off when you’re not feeling well, I’ll do so gladly.”

“You’re awful.” Robin’s voice was soft and vulnerable.

“I am,” I confirmed.

“I should punish you right now.”

“You should,” I said with a casual shrug. “I’ve been very disobedient.”

“Strip.” He looked up at me with indecision, his full lips pressed together with worry. “If you’re going to force me to take time off, then I’m going to force you to spend it with me. I want you to cuddle me while I watch movies on my phone.”

“I can do that.” Spending time in bed with Master appealed to me more than going home alone did. I tugged my tie loose, shrugged off my jacket, and undid the buttons of my shirt. When I was stripped down to my boxers, I climbed into bed next to him. Robin scooted over and turned onto his side so his back was to me, and I took my space behind him, drawing him to my chest. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” He had his phone in his hand and was scrolling through his Netflix app, looking for something to watch. “I’ll tell you if I need you to move. But right now… this is fine.”

I rested my head on his pillow and closed my eyes, listening to the tap of his thumb on his phone, and savoring the touch of his skin against mine. If I had to spend every day of the rest of my life in trouble because I cared about him too much to stay silent, I would, and if that meant spending every night holding him while he scrolled through movies, I’d do it. Robin had changed my life for the better and kept me going through hard times. I’d do anything I could to return the favor.