Chapter Text
In all the years they’ve worked together, Cormoran has come to know that Robin, when particularly stressed, gets very quiet.
She’s usually… not easy-going per se, but certainly the less intense of the two of them. So when she’s feeling some mounting pressure (and this time it was a case she was in charge of, one that she requested to take lead on with Cormoran swearing to chime in only when asked), the air is heavy with unease.
“Want to talk about it?” he did offer, but when Robin only shook her head, pursed her lips and hunched over her paperwork, Cormoran knew she was In a Mood. A sort of mood that Cormoran knew at this point was not open for help, distraction, or even teasing.
Tea was all he could think of. Tea and a packet of those too-sweet Jammie Dodgers he knew Robin reserved as pick-me-up for hard days.
He got up from his seat to put the kettle on, thinking of putting it on a plate as Robin will likely not appreciate being handed just the packet.
“Fuck sake, Barclay!” he barked, finding the Scot munching on the last of the biscuits by the sink.
“Whot?” his subcontractor asked thickly. “Office supplies, innit?” he confirmed, crumbs flying out of his full mouth.
He scowled at Barclay, working out if he should make him go out into the pouring rain to replace two at he’d scarfed down like an animal. But he was so disgusted by the man that he did not trust him to bring it back in one piece.
And so he set out, thinking a quick run to the store down wouldn’t be too much trouble.
Except it had been too much trouble. Because the closest shop had none of the sort Robin liked. He ought to have turned back, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Robin coming out for tea and comfort, and finding none was to be had.
He did find them in the end. At a far-off Sainsbury’s. When he got back, he was soaked to the bone, he could feel water sloshing inside his shoes.
“Shoulda taken an umbrella,” muttered Pat, eCig on the side of her mouth, eyes on her monitor.
“Thanks for the tip.” said Cormoran, his delivery the only thing about him now that was dry.
But he made the tea, and put the biscuits on the plate, and smirked when he overheard Sam ask Pat for antacids.
Still sodden, he set the tea and the biscuits next to Robin, whose expression hasn’t at all changed in the fifteen minutes he’d nipped out. She hadn’t even noticed he was soaking.
“Thanks.” she said mechanically, and he looked on as she picked up a biscuit and took a bite. And the way her shoulders fell with relaxation at having had her treat gave Cormoran incongruent pleasure.
He could feel the chill in his chest, the onset of a cold. But he shrugged, thinking it was worth it.