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Staring at Pharm never gets old, not to Dean. Especially not when he’s in his element.
Flittering around the kitchen, back and forth from stove to counter to refrigerator and back again, he chops and mixes and sears a bigger meal than Dean has ever seen him prepare. It has been so long since all of their friends have been in one place, but with Win back from England and Team off of training, it’s the perfect excuse for everyone to come together. And for such a celebration, Pharm is determined to impress.
It’s as thoughtful as it is worrying. For hours, he’s been scurrying about, apron fluttering around his knees. Dean isn’t sure at what hour he had woken up to start such an extravagance, but with each passing minute, he’s concerned his husband is close to giving out. Anything Pharm makes will be more than enough for any of them, but mentioning such will only make him more jittery. Through his food, Pharm shows his love, and he has a bigger heart than anyone else Dean has ever met.
So he lets him go on, ready to catch him when he stumbles. It’s why Dean is there, after all: to encourage him forward and soothe any aches that come along the way. And with how long Pharm has been on his feet, there surely will be plenty. Already, his head is filling with late evening plans – for when their guests have gone – of warm baths and leg massages.
Pharm suddenly stills, refrigerator door pulled open in his hand, and his eyes go wide, darting over the shelves. Dean sees the panic rise, and he pushes himself from the door frame to go to him. Large hand smoothing over his back to his shoulder, he asks softly, “What’s wrong?”
Jaw clenching, Pharm continues to look into the fridge, as if he can conjure up what he needs at will. “I was sure I had bought enough eggs to make thong yip. But I used the last of them in the omelets, and now I don’t have any for dessert. I triple checked my shopping list and everything.”
The fingers around the door handle go white, trembling enough that his grip loosens. He’s growing more anxious by the second, and Dean knows he needs to act fast. “Pharm,” he says, trying to turn him towards him. But he stands firm, refusing to look away from the eggless fridge.
“I still have half of the main course to make, and I don’t have to time to go to the store.” He shakes his head, breath quickening. “Maybe we can just have them come tomorrow. Everything will still be good by then, and I can go get the eggs. I could even make leum kleun as an apology–”
“Pharm,” Dean repeat. He manages to pull Pharm to his chest, his head turned up to meet his eyes. Stroking his fingers through his hair, he cups his palm over the back of his neck. “Breathe. Everything is okay.” He waits for him to suck in a long breath before he continues, “We’re not going to reschedule. I’ll go get the eggs and anything else you need me to. Will that work?”
Pharm tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he considers it. Though he still looks unsure, he says, “You’ll have to be quick.”
“I’ll leave right now,” he assures. “And go over the speed limit as much as I can without getting pulled over.”
“P’Dean,” Pharm chastises, but he sounds more at ease. “Three dozen eggs. Oh, but get four, just in case. And we’re almost out of coconut milk, so if you could get some of that too, that would be nice.”
“Whatever you want.” And then, if only to make Pharm smile, he asks, “Before I go, can I get a kiss for good luck?”
Pharm sputters, gaping up at him. “For good luck? You are literally just going to the grocery store. Why would you–”
“So I can make good time.” Leaning down, he nuzzles their noses together. “Please? I’ll really need it.”
And there it is, the smile he’s looking for. His shoulders have relaxed, and most of the nerves have melted off of his face. In their place is a bright, heart stopping smile that Dean swears he’d move mountains for. This is what he promised Pharm all the way back in New York on the day of their wedding: to always bring him a smile when he is lost in sadness.
“Silly,” he says with a shake of his head. But nonetheless, he stands on his tip toes, gripping Dean’s arms as he meets him in a kiss. It’s lingering and gentle, and Dean almost doesn’t want to move away. But that will only send Pharm back into a spiral, and he has a job to do.
Pecking him once more when he settles back on his heels, Dean goes to grab his wallet and keys. “Off on my mission I go,” he calls from the front door. He hears Pharm’s calm laughter carry through the hall. It seems he’s already partially fulfilled his husband duties. Now to go get those eggs.