“Fucking shit, Dean! You can’t just solve the world’s problems with funny movies and food! It doesn’t work that way.”
“Of course it works that way,” he whispers against my ear. I dig my nails deeper into his arms, and shudder against him. “And if you’re lucky enough to find that person who you can share your grief with, well, that’s something close to heaven. Please, kitten, let me take care of you, just for tonight. Just… stop crying, please.” Dean turns me slowly towards him, and I must be a sight.
But he’s looking at me like I’m a treasure chest, and I’m going to make him rich beyond measure.
“I wish you’d let me kiss you, kitten. No strings attached, I promise. Just to make you feel better. But I don’t think that’s going to be a good idea. You’re terrified out of your mind right now, and you’re feeling too much. I’ve been where you are, there’s no need to make yourself feel even worse for shit that’s already happened, alright? C’mon, what’s your favourite thing to eat? I’ll make it right now.”
I sniffle and swipe my eyes with my arm. I then dive in for a hug while nearly clipping Dean’s chin and squeeze him as hard as my arms will allow.
“You’re an incredibly good person, you know that, Dean? And you’re going to make some girl incredibly lucky one day. If she mistreats you, gimme a call, and I’ll arrange a beat-down given by yours truly.” I mumble into his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. He keeps holding me, and I have a feeling that he won’t let me go until I ask him to.
“Do you even lift, bro?”
And that’s it. He’s got me laughing and crying all at the same time and I don’t know how I got here, in his arms, feeling as much as I do.
“Feeling better?” he asks, rubbing circles on my back. My dad used to rub my back too, when I was sick, just until I fell asleep. Dean’s doing a better job.
“Yeah.”
“So what’s your favourite food? I’ll laugh if it’s got anything to do with fish.”
I shake my head against his chest. “No. I can only eat salmon if there’s ketchup on it. I hate the stuff.”
“Ketchup, on salmon!? Sacrilege! I’m going to have to make you try my poached salmon on one of my off-nights. You in or are you in?”
I grin, and nod. “Yeah, I’m in. But my favourite thing to eat are amaretti cookies. And my nona Catarina makes them the best so you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“I’ve got it. Go sit on the couch, get some love from the boys. I promise you’ll feel better soon. Go on, the master chef’s got work to do. Let me work my magic,” Deans says, winking. He places a kiss on my forehead and nudges me towards the couch.
After a minute, he comes out of his bedroom and wraps me up with a huge Canadiens’ fleece blanket. Potter needs help getting on the couch, but Pongo and Kal do just fine, flanking either side of me so I’m playing monkey-in-the-middle, the canine edition. They are all so warm and snuggly that I nearly miss the Xbox controller Dean throws at me for Netflix.
“Pick anything you want. I can catch glimpses of it from the kitchen, so pas de probleme on that front. Fire it up, and give me your best comedy. Whoever loses doesn’t get a taste of the cookie dough!”
The thing I love and hate about Netflix is that there’s too much selection. I could spend an hour and a half narrowing it down to ten movies that I want to watch and still not have a ready decision for the night. But I do my best.
I’ve been angling on watching a classic that Sera had introduced me to while we were in high school. It features the comedic greats that are Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor. One’s deaf and the other’s blind and they somehow get framed for a murder and have to find the real killers while saving their necks. It’s pretty hilarious and hilarious is what I need right now.
I put it on and start dozing off almost immediately. It’s the smell that keeps me awake knowing I’m going to get some amazing amaretti cookies real soon.
Dean comes to the couch, lifts up Kal like he’s nothing but a puppy and plops himself down next to me, settling Kal on his lap. The German Shepherd doesn’t do anything, so I think it’s a regular occurrence.
Dean nearly whacks me in the head when he tried to put an arm on the back of the couch and tosses me an apologetic grin. The kind of grin a little boy might give you if you found him with his hand in the cookie jar. I grin back and turn back towards the movie.
Dean’s laugh changes depending on what’s happened. He has a belly laugh when it’s slapstick humour, but when it’s witty or a turn of phrase kind of humour, he laughs with a certain kind of wheeze. Then when it’s a combination of the two he legit starts howling and has to wipe tears from his eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a good time watching someone watch a movie.