8

Marafioti was woken abruptly the next morning by a muffled yell of fright.

He sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes, and looked around.

"What?" He asked the startled Adrian.

"What're you doing here?" Adrian demanded. "You scared the crap out of me."

"I stayed here; to keep an eye on you. You didn't look so good last night."

"Oh... thanks. I guess."

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Marafioti stretched, and checked his watch.

Adrian looked rather worse for wear; stubble darkened his jaw, his hair was rumpled, his clothes crinkled.

And Marafioti found him irresistible.

"Not really. Breakfast?"

Marafioti shook his head.

"I've got to run home before I go back to the station. I'll call you later, okay."

Marafioti left before Adrian could say anything else.

*

Adrian knew as soon as he opened the door for Marafioti that evening that the detective had found out nothing new since that morning.

Marafioti shook his head before Adrian could form the half-hearted question.

"I can come back, if you're in the middle of dinner," Marafioti said, scenting the air around him.

Adrian shook his head.

"I can't eat. I'm working on new menus for the restaurant."

Adrian led Marafioti into the kitchen, where plastic containers filled with food, and open cookbooks with markers sticking out all over them covered every surface.

"You've only just opened the restaurant," said Marafioti, eyeing the food hopefully.

Adrian saw him, and smiled.

"Help yourself. It's mostly seasonal menus. Easter recipes, stuff for Christmas... I like the gingerbread."

Adrian took a gingerbread biscuit and nibbled it for a moment, before he sighed heavily.

"Do you know anything?" He asked helplessly.

Marafioti shook his head gently.

Adrian sighed again, before he turned back to the oven, and began vigorously stirring a large pot of soup.

Adrian became aware, as he stirred, than Marafioti had moved closer to him; the large detective was now stood only a few inches away from him, peering over his shoulder into the pot.

"It's very green," Marafioti said after a moment.

"Observant, aren't you?" Adrian smirked at Marafioti over his shoulder. "It's broccoli and stilton."

Adrian heard a soft rumble of approval from the detective's throat, and quickly turned away to check the marble cake baking in the oven.