A Guy for Christmas - K.C. Wells Page 0,63
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