Chapter Seventeen #2
Dammit. That meant a couple more hours at least before he could take more. “Has it gotten any better?”
“A little. I sent that text. Couldn’t have managed that an hour ago.”
“Okay. I’ll be back.”
Robin crept out of the room and made his way downstairs.
Once in the kitchen, he found a can of chicken soup in the cabinet.
That was better than nothing. He set about heating it, his mind going over what else he could do to help.
He hadn’t seen a glass on the nightstand, so Dean probably hadn’t drunk anything since he’d taken the Tylenol.
And speaking of which, the packet stood next to the sink.
Shit. Extra Strength. That meant an even longer wait.
Then he reasoned it also figured the pain might go faster.
When the soup was ready, Robin poured it into a mug. That would be way easier to handle than a bowl and spoon. He grabbed a glass from the countertop and took both items upstairs.
Dean hadn’t moved from his original position. Robin placed the mug on the nightstand, and went into the bathroom to get water. He put the full glass next to the soup, then stroked Dean’s arm. “You need to eat this.”
Dean squinted at him, and it wasn’t difficult to see he was in pain. “Can I smell chicken soup?”
Robin smiled. “Nothing wrong with your nose.” He sat carefully on the edge of the bed.
“Come on. Let me help you sit up a little.” He stuffed pillows behind Dean as Dean propped himself up on his elbows.
“That’s it.” Robin took the mug and held it out with its handle facing toward Dean.
“Take this. I’ll keep hold of it till I know you’re not gonna spill it all over the comforter. ”
Dean lay back against the pillows and wrapped his hands around the mug. “I’ve got it.” He sipped a little of the soup, and his stomach gurgled. Dean let out a weak chuckle. “I guess I do need this.”
“Less talking, more eating.”
Dean’s lips twitched. “And there’s that bossy streak again.”
Robin got the feeling the painkillers had finally kicked in. “Finish it, all of it. Then you’ll drink some water, and then you can sleep a while. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Dean sipped a little more of the soup. “Sorry about the skiing.”
Robin stroked his thigh. “There’ll be other times. What matters now is getting rid of your migraine.” He stared at the mug. “More, please.”
“You can’t spend your Saturday looking after me,” Dean protested.
“Says who?” Robin beamed in approval as Dean finished the soup. He took the mug from him, and handed over the glass. “Now drink this, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
Dean drank half the glass before giving it back, his fingers brushing Robin’s as he did so. Robin placed the glass on the nightstand, then leaned in to kiss Dean’s forehead as lightly as he could manage. “This is me kissing the pain away,” he whispered, before helping Dean to lie down once more.
As he straightened to leave, Dean caught his hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Robin couldn’t resist the call of those lips. He kissed Dean on the mouth. “Get some sleep,” he murmured as he pulled back. Then he crept out of the room and down the stairs. Lady strolled into the hallway as he reached the bottom, and he picked her up.
“Your daddy doesn’t need kitties right now, so you come with me.”
Robin glanced toward the ceiling, praying the painkillers would do their job.
Dean sat up and rubbed his fingers over his scalp. He’d awoken that morning from a horrible dream where he’d been in pain, only to find it was no dream. Thank God that’s gone.
He glanced at the nightstand where the mug and glass sat.
Robin’s here. Then he realized lunchtime had been and gone.
I hope he fed himself too. He couldn’t hear a sound from below.
Dean walked to the door and opened it, to be greeted by the faintest sound of the TV.
He went downstairs into the hallway, noting Robin’s skis lying on the floor by the front door.
A pang of regret lanced through him, but he pushed it aside.
Robin was right—there would be other times.
Dean pushed open the door to the living room, to find Robin curled up on the large couch, Lady beside him, and Loki in his lap. The TV was on, its volume low, and The Simpsons was playing.
Robin looked up and smiled. “Hey. You feeling better?”
Dean nodded. “The pain’s gone. Have you eaten something?”
Robin inclined his head toward the coffee table, where an empty plate and glass sat. “I made myself a sandwich. Of course, I had to fight Loki for it. Little bastard wanted my bologna.” He rubbed under Loki’s chin, and the kitten purred.
“Can you stay a while?” Dean didn’t want him to go yet.
Robin’s smile met his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours for the rest of the day.”
“Didn’t Ryan come home last night?”
Robin snorted. “Now you understand why I’m yours for the rest of the day.” He frowned. “But you’re gonna take it easy, okay? A nice, quiet day, with me and the cats.”
Dean didn’t see a problem with that at all. Then he remembered. “Hey. Wait a sec. I have cookies to make.”
Robin narrowed his gaze. “And they can wait till tomorrow. You got anything urgent planned for then?”
“My friends are coming over, but that’ll be in the evening after dinner.”
His response seemed to satisfy Robin. “That’s great. I’ll come over tomorrow and we can make the cookies then. But for the rest of today, let’s do something quiet.”
Dean had an idea. “How about curling up on the couch under a blanket and watching movies?”
Robin tilted his head. “What kind of movies? Nothing too loud.”
“I was thinking more along the line of Christmas movies.”
Judging by the light in Robin’s eyes, Dean had come up with the perfect plan. The only thing that would make it more perfect?
Having Robin in his arms while they watched.
Robin didn’t have a clue what the rest of his family was watching on TV.
His mind was someplace else.
He was aware of Ryan guffawing at parts of whatever it was, and Dad telling him, ‘Not so loud.’ Mom was working on her crocheting, and the shawl/blanket/throw —what is she making anyhow?—was growing.
Ryan’s thoughts were locked on Dean.
If he concentrated, he could still feel Dean’s arm around him as they lay together on Dean’s largest couch, Dean spooned behind Robin.
Now and then, Dean had kissed Robin’s head, and that had led to a deliciously slow make-out session, the movie on pause.
No heat, but plenty of touching, accompanied by a soft soundtrack of sighs and murmurs.
Then it was back to the movie—until the next ‘interval’.
He’d felt warm, safe—and if he were honest, loved.
The logical part of his brain wanted to know more. The hedonist part wanted to tell the logical part to shut the fuck up and not rock the boat, because this was all good, okay? They weren’t harming anyone, Robin wasn’t stressed out about it—
Well, he hadn’t been, until Ryan had asked The Question.
Robin knew the simplest solution was to ask Dean how he felt, but there was a part of him that kept clamoring this was a need-to-know situation, and that right then, Robin did not need to know. That it was better to go with the flow, enjoy it while it was happening…
Asking Dean if he was falling for Robin would break the spell, and Robin wanted to hold onto this Christmas magic a while longer.
Then he realized the room had gone quiet.
Dad regarded him with twinkling eyes. “The rest of us are going to bed. I don’t know what you’re doing on Planet Robin.” Mom was folding up her crocheting. Ryan was nowhere to be seen.
Robin lurched to his feet. “I’ll take the mugs into the kitchen.” As he collected them, Mom laid a hand to his back and kissed his cheek.
“Sleep well, sweetheart.” Then she left the room.
Robin went into the kitchen, Dad following him. He added the mugs to the dishwasher’s load, and set it going, aware of his dad bustling behind him. When Robin turned, his chest tightened to see his dad’s watchful expression.
“Robin… are you okay?”
Robin forced a laugh. “You seem to be asking me that a lot lately.”
Dad nodded, not breaking eye contact. “That would be because you’re not doing a whole lot of talking lately.”
His heartbeat sped up. “Look, Dad, I—”
Dad held up his hands. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to give you the third degree, all right?”
He’s not? Then why did Robin’s heart pound?
“The way I see it,” Dad continued, “if you were in college right now, you’d be living your own life.
You wouldn’t have your parents watching your every move—not that we are, you understand.
” He chuckled. “Well, maybe your mom is, a little. But I guess that’s how I need to view this present situation. ”
It didn’t take a great amount of brain power to work out what that referred to. Robin’s ‘boyfriend’, Ben. The one his parents were studiously not questioning him about, but doing a huge amount of assuming.
And Robin let them assume, because… the alternative.
“You know, it occurs to me that I have no idea what your brother gets up to nowadays—and maybe that’s no bad thing—but he has something you don’t—his independence.
” Dad cleared his throat. “Maybe you should have the same thing. So… as long as you’re not in any trouble, and no one is hurting you… I figure I should let you be.”
Aw fuck. Way to go to make me feel even more guilty than I already do, Dad.
Robin couldn’t speak. He didn’t trust himself.
Dad studied him in silence for a moment, and then it must have become obvious to him that Robin was going to let this be a one-sided conversation.
“So while we’re here, just us men…” There was that searching gaze again. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
Robin finally found his voice. “No, Dad.”
“Oh. Okay.” Dad coughed. “Well, we’re here if you need us.
” He gave a sad smile. “Christ, I thought parenting would get easier when you boys got older. I think I traded in one set of worries for an entirely different set.” He came over to Robin and patted his arm.
“I was happier dealing with bumps and scrapes and getting you through your first days of school. At least then, all you could break were your limbs. Now I worry about you breaking your heart.”
On an impulse, Robin gave his dad a fierce hug. “I hear even that mends eventually,” he whispered.
“It does,” Dad confirmed, still holding onto him.
“But the pain lasts a damn sight longer than a broken tooth or a cut knee.” When Robin gave him a startled glance, he shrugged.
“Long time ago. And way before I met your mom, so that makes it ancient history. I hope to God it’s something you never get to experience.
” He released Robin. “But I guess that’s part and parcel of being a parent.
You want to protect your kids, but you can’t. ”
“I think you’ve done a pretty good job so far.” Robin’s throat tightened. “Goodnight, Dad.” He had to get out of there. His emotions felt way too close to the surface.
“Goodnight, son.”
Robin fled to his room, closed the door, and leaned against it, his forehead touching the smooth painted wood.
I don’t want a broken heart either.