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“This place is popular.” Dean notes the length of the line in front of him and Pharm.
“The chef was on tv so I guess everyone wants to try his curry fusion dishes now.” Pharm smiles absently before his expression shifts over to sudden worry. He glances up at Dean with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. Are you really hungry? If this is too long to wait, we can go somewhere else. I should’ve called ahead and made reservations, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Dean slips his hand into Pharm’s and squeezes. “You want to eat here, so I do too. I can wait as long as you can.” He smiles at his boyfriend reassuringly.
Pharm beams up at him in clear relief. “I’ve been looking forward to it. I think I might get some ideas for my menu.”
“Oh?” Dean squeezes Pharm’s hand again. He’s fairly certain he’s grinning like a fool — the way he always seems to when Pharm is being adorable, which is always — but they don’t know anyone here and he doesn’t really care. “I thought your restaurant was going to be ‘traditional dishes done to perfection’.” He quotes the phrase he’s heard Pharm practicing in the mirror for pitches to potential investors.
Dean knows that he doesn’t actually need to worry about outside investors; he’s got more than enough money, between what he’s saved over the past few years of working and the trust created by Korn and In’s fathers, to open any kind of restaurant he wants. In the middle of downtown Bangkok even. But Dean loves Pharm’s detailed work ethic, and he’s more than willing to support him in meeting with outside parties if that’s what he wants. After all… maybe that money would be better spent on their dream house.
Dean feels flushed with such warm happiness at the thought of a real home with Pharm that he doesn’t quite hear the answer to his question.
Sure enough, Pharm knocks the back of their linked hands against Dean’s thigh. “Are you listening?” he asks — but he’s still smiling, his big dark eyes shining up at Dean like stars.
Dean hums in a noncommittal way and Pharm’s mouth quirks to one side.
“What did I just say?” Pharm teases. “Bet you can’t tell me.”
Dean hums again. Pharm is irresistible when he’s gently ribbing Dean like this.
He darts his eyes around but no one is looking at them, so Dean leans down and presses his lips quickly to Pharm’s cheek.
Pharm squeaks then immediately claps his free hand over his mouth. His eyes have gone huge and shocked.
“P’Dean!” he hisses between his fingers. “We’re in public!”
Dean grins, unrepentant. He grins harder when Pharm rubs subconsciously at the place where Dean kissed him, his fingertips light and wondering against his own skin.
“You’re just too cute,” Dean murmurs. He wraps an arm around Pharm’s shoulders and pulls him close. Pharm makes another little noise, but he melts into Dean’s side without resisting.
Dean doesn’t mind the wait; he could stand in this line forever as long as he has Pharm beside him.
~
Pharm usually enjoys shopping in new grocery stores. It’s fun to wander the aisles and examine new ingredients. But he’s on a mission today. He ran out of the gelatin he needs to make the look choop he’s putting together for Team and Win’s anniversary party tomorrow. And when he discovered his normal grocery store was out of stock as well, Dean insisted on driving him to others until they find what he needs. But Pharm is getting a little impatient with how long it’s taking him to get this one necessary ingredient. It’s already late in the evening, and Pharm needs to be up early tomorrow to help Manaow and Del with the decorating.
He’s about to give in and go find an employee to help him when Dean appears at the end of the aisle. His boyfriend beckons him forward.
“You found it?” Pharm asks, perking up. He hurries to join Dean who leads him a few aisles over without answering. Pharm glances up and down the shelves, but he doesn’t see any gelatin, let alone items related to dessert.
“Where is—”
Dean cuts off his question by suddenly stepping closer, hemming Pharm in against the shelves, his broad shoulders curving close as he leans down to take Pharm’s face in his hands. And then Dean’s lips are hot against Pharm’s and Pharm is helpless to do anything but melt under that unrelenting heat. His eyes slide closed and he forgets entirely where they are or why they’re there; all he can think about is Dean’s mouth on his, rippling waves of fire cascading down shaky nerves. Dean presses a little closer, one hand sliding around to cradle the back of Pharm’s head, tilting him so their mouths open easier for each other. The kiss turns a little languid — and then Dean pulls away only to lean his forehead against Pharm’s, both of them breathing heavily.
Reality comes crashing back in and Pharm’s spine goes rigid as he looks wildly around.
“Relax,” Dean says softly. He brushes his thumb over Pharm’s cheekbone, his eyes dark, his expression slightly glazed over. Pharm recognizes the look from late nights in bed and his insides go a bit melty again. “There’s no one around,” Dean goes on. “And even if there was, I think I was blocking you from view pretty well.” He huffs out a little laugh.
“P’Dean…” Pharm swats him on the shoulder. “What was that for? I have things to do tonight!”
“I know,” Dean insists. “That’s why. I know you’re going to be up half the night perfecting your look choop for Team, and I’m going to have to carry you to bed again. So I wanted to sneak something in before you get too focused to remember you have a boyfriend.”
Pharm presses his lips together. He can feel himself going uncomfortably red. But he knows Dean is probably right. Even now, his attention is shifting back to his mission. He glances around the aisle again, trying to see past Dean’s solid frame, still pressed close to him.
Dean laughs again, less breathy this time, more genuinely amused. Pharm’s stomach swoops as Dean stretches an arm out over his head and brings down a box from the top shelf.
“Here,” he says, smiling his perfect smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Your gelatin.”
Pharm breaks into a helpless grin. “So you did find it.”
“I’m a good boyfriend in more than one respect,” Dean says with a wink, and Pharm’s face erupts in fire.
~
The lantern festival is in full swing, and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever had this much fun amongst this many people in his life. Normally crowds are not his thing, especially crowds at night, but this time he’s got Pharm with him, dragging him from one stall to the next, urging Dean to try this or that food, beaming up at the strings of glowing lanterns and talking excitedly about the ones they’re going to launch on the river later. It’s intoxicating being around Pharm when he’s like this; his enthusiasm is infectious.
Maybe that’s why Dean doesn’t notice at first that Pharm isn’t right behind him when he zeroes in on a booth selling intricately carved cedar wood fans.
“I bet Del would love one of these,” Dean muses, picking one up and spreading it out so he can see all the details of the delicate carvings. “Want to help me choose… one…? Pharm?”
He trails off as he realizes Pharm isn’t nearby. Dean spins around, but Pharm isn’t on either side of him nor is he behind him. Folding the fan back up and setting it on the table, Dean turns to scan the crowd more carefully. He doesn’t see Pharm anywhere. But his boyfriend is on the shorter side and it’s possible he’s being blocked from Dean’s view by the many people milling about. Dean wades into the crowd, head on a swivel, keeping an eye out for the cream-colored sweater with red stripes he knows Pharm is wearing.
Five minutes later, Dean is panicking. He hasn’t seen Pharm anywhere and there are no replies to his texts or answers to his phone calls. He hoists himself onto the base of a nearby street lamp to get a better view, ignoring the way he’s caught the attention of a nearby police officer who is now making his way toward him, calling for him to get down. Other people are pointing and staring at Dean now, wondering what the ruckus is about, and Dean should feel embarrassed but mostly he’s hoping that maybe Pharm is nearby enough to notice and find him first.
“That’s public property.” The officer is fuming as though Dean is setting the street lamp on fire rather than just using it to get a view above the crowd. He snatches at Dean’s pant leg. “Get down, right now.”
Dean doesn’t bother replying. He hasn’t stopped looking through the crowd for a moment. Suddenly he sees a flash of cream and red — there! Pharm is just coming out of the public restrooms at one edge of the festival space. He’s frowning down at the phone in his hand, not even seeing the man hovering behind him with a leer on his face.
“Sorry, officer,” Dean breathes as he slides back down the lamppost and starts making his way through the crowd to where he just saw Pharm. The officer is yelling, but the crowd closes in behind Dean and keeps him from catching up. Dean apologizes as he brushes by people, but he can probably thank his height and what is likely a frantic expression for the way they let him through without objection.
“Pharm,” Dean gasps, breaking through to where Pharm is now talking to the lecher. Pharm glances up at his boyfriend quizzically as Dean swoops in and grabs him by the shoulder. “We have to go,” he says to the stranger briefly before pulling Pharm alongside him away and around a corner.
“P’Dean, slow down,” Pharm murmurs as Dean drags him down a little alley away from the crush of people. “Why are we back here?”
Dean suddenly stops, swinging Pharm around to face him directly, his boyfriend’s eyes gone wide at whatever Dean’s face is doing now.
“Don’t ever do that again.” Dean is breathing as hard as if he just ran a sprint. He can feel electricity sparking through his veins. “I was so worried,” he confesses, pulling Pharm tight against him and burying his face against his neck.
“Why?” Pharm murmurs against Dean’s shoulder. His hands rest tentatively at Dean’s waist. “I’m fine. I just needed the bathroom. You nodded when I said…?”
Dean doesn’t remember Pharm saying anything and it doesn’t matter now anyway. He hugs Pharm closer but that’s not enough. After another moment, he pulls away only to grab Pharm’s chin in his fingers and tilt his head back so Dean can kiss him. Pharm’s lips under Dean’s are hot but uncertain. He trembles like he’s going to draw back, but Dean makes some kind of desperate noise in the back of his throat and suddenly Pharm is surging up to hook his hands around Dean’s neck, lips parting so that the kiss deepens. Dean is lost in the constant pull of desire for his boyfriend. He splays a hand between Pharm’s shoulder blades, the other brushing along Pharm’s jaw to settle in his hair, the strands silken under his fingertips.
When they finally separate, Dean can feel the electricity within him fading into a pleasant tingle concentrated in all the places he and Pharm were just touching.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, resting their foreheads together, eyes closed. “I didn’t know where you went. And that creep back there…” He shudders.
“What creep?” Pharm sounds bewildered. When Dean opens his eyes, Pharm is looking up at him, cheeks flushed, lips pink and kiss-swollen.
“The one who cornered you right before I showed up,” Dean says fiercely. He brushes his thumbs across Pharm’s cheeks, feeling the heat there, wishing they were home right now so Dean could wrap them both up in a blanket to hide away from the rest of the world.
“P’Dean,” Pharm says with a notoriously patient tone. “He didn’t corner me. He was returning my wallet. I dropped it in the bathroom.”
“He… What?” Dean blinks down at Pharm. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Pharm smiles and holds up the wallet, still in his hand. “It was very nice of him, don’t you think? I was thanking him when you showed up.”
“Ah…” Dean scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed.
Pharm’s smile widens. “You’re really cute, P’Dean.” He slides his wallet into his back pocket and holds his hand out for Dean to take. “Come on. I saw a place selling satay. Let’s get a snack before we keep going?”
Dean takes Pharm’s hand and lets him pull Dean back out into the crowd. He thinks about insisting that they go home anyway so he can indulge the urge to curl up with Pharm somewhere safe, but… One more glance at Pharm’s beaming face as he orders from the satay vendor and Dean is melting.
“What do you want to look at next?” Pharm asks a minute later, nibbling on his chicken.
Dean grins down at him. “Doesn’t matter. Anything is fun when I’m with you.”
~
The sun is slanting through the room at the wrong angle when Pharm wakes up. It takes him a moment of groggy blinking to remember that today is a holiday — he and Dean turned their alarms off the night before for a rare opportunity to sleep in. And Dean took full advantage of that knowledge when they went to bed, wrapping Pharm up in his arms and scattering kisses over every inch of his bare skin he could reach until it was all too much for both of them. Which is why Pharm is still naked under the covers, one of Dean’s long arms slung possessively around his waist to cuddle him close even in sleep.
Pharm turns carefully on his side so he can examine his sleeping boyfriend without disturbing his well-deserved rest. He breathes deliberately softly as his eyes trace every contour of Dean’s face, his high cheekbones, the finely inked lines of his eyelashes, the smooth dark brows, his soft full lips. It’s an unexpected pleasure to be able to lie here and examine Dean at his leisure. Usually they’re both running around in the morning, Pharm cooking breakfast while Dean showers, both of them eating while they talk about what their days should look like, Dean pressing swift goodbye kisses to Pharm’s cheeks and wishing him luck as he heads out the door. Pharm relishes this opportunity to watch Dean sleep so peacefully at a time when they’d both usually be hurrying to get out the door.
“I love you, P’Dean,” he whispers. He’s barely audible to his own ears, and the words sound more like a confession than the bedrock truth that Pharm has built his entire future on. But something about the silence of the late morning and the softness of Dean’s sleeping expression makes Pharm a little afraid, like all of this might be a dream and he could wake up alone and aching the way he used to so often before he met Dean.
Something about Pharm’s fragile mood must bleed into Dean’s dreams because his brows knit together and he burrows deeper into the pillows, the arm around Pharm’s waist hooking him closer. Holding his breath, Pharm waits for Dean to wake up, but he doesn’t. His fingers are loose and light on Pharm’s lower back as he continues to breathe deeply. After another moment, his brow smooths.
Pharm releases his breath.
Sometimes it’s like this. Dean makes him so happy, but loving him and being loved by him occasionally feels like a beautiful dream, too wonderful to be real. Pharm usually feels this way after he’s been thinking about In and Korn, and he wonders if he had a nightmare about them that he doesn’t remember. But he knows they’re at peace now, the same way he knows that he and Dean have a solid foundation of love and trust to live on. There’s no real reason for Pharm to worry.
He reaches up to run a fingertip gently over the beloved lines of Dean’s face. His skin is so soft and warm with just a hint of stubble coming in along his jaw. Though Pharm memorized Dean’s features long ago, can see him perfectly enough when his eyes are closed to draw a portrait blindfolded, sometimes there’s nothing so comforting as drinking up the sight of him. Sometimes touching him directly is the only thing that can reassure Pharm that he’s real. That their love is real.
Pharm lets out a little sigh. This mood doesn’t happen frequently, but it’s disconcerting when it does. And he feels silly about needing to touch Dean while he’s asleep. Like he’s a child who needs someone to hold his hand and tell him there are no monsters under the bed. He knows there are no monsters.
Pharm withdraws his hand and closes his eyes tight against the morning sun.
“Stop it, Pharm,” he murmurs to himself. “Why are you thinking like this today?”
“Thinking like what?”
The sound of Dean’s sleepy voice makes Pharm’s eyes pop open. He finds Dean blinking at him, gaze dark with adoration, a little smile already curving his mouth.
“You’re too cute to be worried first thing in the morning,” Dean insists, his voice still a little fuzzy from disuse, his eyes sliding closed again. “Come here and let me fix whatever’s wrong.” He starts to pull Pharm closer, but Pharm sits upright before he can be ensnared.
“I’m okay,” Pharm says quickly. The back of his neck feels hot. “You should sleep more if you want. I’ll make breakfast.”
But Dean is already sitting up behind him, wrapping his arms around Pharm’s waist so he can tug his back into Dean’s chest. Pharm tries to relax, but he can feel how rigid his shoulder is where Dean is now resting his chin.
“Did you have a bad dream?” Dean asks quietly. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”
Pharm shakes his head. He feels so silly. He’s upset about absolutely nothing at all! How can he explain that to Dean? He’ll sound like a crazy person.
“Pharm…” Dean’s voice is like velvet, deep and soft. “Be a good boy and talk to me.”
“It’s nothing,” Pharm insists. “Really.”
Dean squeezes Pharm’s middle then drops a swift kiss on his bare shoulder.
“If you say so. But you know I’m here for you no matter what, right?”
Pharm can’t stop himself from letting out another little sigh, impatient with his needlessly worried thoughts. “I know,” he says, turning toward Dean over his shoulder. “And I—mmf!”
He cuts off as Dean’s lips collide with his, a hand coming up to cradle the back of his head. And just like that, the tension bleeds away, Dean’s kiss as deep and soft as his sleep-heavy voice. All of Pharm’s doubts evaporate like so much morning mist.
“I love you,” Dean whispers a moment later, breath warm against Pharm’s cheek.
Lips tingling, Pharm raises a shaky hand to curve against Dean’s cheek.
“I love you too,” he whispers back. “So much.”
Dean smiles, and Pharm’s world is complete.
~
On Pharm’s birthday, Dean insists on picking him up from work. This isn’t entirely abnormal; whenever their schedules allow for it, Dean makes sure he’s the one driving Pharm home. But usually he waits in the parking lot for Pharm to emerge from the restaurant, eager to catch sight of him in the moment before he spots Dean’s car, the moment in which he’s still carrying the weight of work on his shoulders, a look of deep concentration etched into his face. Dean loves that moment because of the one that follows — when he sees Dean waiting for him and his entire expression shifts, like a cloud revealing the full brightness of the sun.
Dean lives for that moment.
But today, Dean doesn’t wait in the parking lot. He grabs the bouquet of red roses from the passenger’s seat and makes a beeline for the back door. He made plans with Pharm’s coworkers earlier so it’s unlocked for him, and he slips into the warm interior of the kitchen, the clangor of pots and pans and shouting orders immediately flooding his ears. But it only takes a moment for him to spot Pharm in his apron, bent over a workstation, carefully constructing something out of jelly and candied flower petals. There’s a maelstrom of activity around him as the other chefs hurry to fill orders, but a few linger near Pharm, watching what he’s doing with clear admiration. Pharm aims sideways smiles and quiet words of thanks at the ones who stop to express their feelings to him out loud.
“Dean!”
Dean nearly jumps at the gruff voice in his ear and the hand clapped on his shoulder. The head chef of the restaurant, Wisit, is looking up at him with a massive grin.
“He doesn’t suspect a thing. Go on and sweep him off his feet! We’ve been waiting for this all day.”
Sure enough, when Dean looks around he can see the other chefs all darting glances at him. They’re quick to smother their smiles, but they keep looking between him and Pharm so if Dean doesn’t make his move soon the surprise will be ruined. It reminds Dean uncannily of college when Manaow would spread the word on social media and suddenly a dozen giggling girls would be waiting to watch Dean drape his jacket over Pharm’s shoulders after swim practice.
“Thanks, P’Wisit.” Dean can’t help but grin back at him.
“Go get ‘em,” Wisit stage whispers as Dean strides across the kitchen floor, his eyes locked on Pharm. The other chefs all move quickly out of the way and by the time Dean reaches Pharm, the kitchen has gone nearly silent save for the simmering of pots and the crackling in pans.
Pharm suddenly seems to register the change in the atmosphere and he looks up in time to watch Dean fall to his knees, the bouquet held up like an offering. There are several gasps around them, and a bolt of lighting goes through Dean as he suddenly realizes how like a proposal this seems. Really all he planned to do was surprise Pharm at work so he can sweep him off in a cloud of rose petals and then spoil him silly with a home-cooked meal that Pharm doesn’t have to cook for once.
“P’Dean…?” Pharm’s eyes are huge, the pastry bag in his hand is trembling.
Dean scrambles to his feet, face burning. He offers Pharm the bouquet a little more sedately this time.
“Happy birthday,” he says a bit sheepishly. He tries to recover with a quirked up smile. “I know you’ve been working hard, and I wanted to surprise you.”
Pharm takes the flowers, but he’s looking around the kitchen at the others all holding their breath, watching them.
“These are beautiful,” Pharm murmurs, burying his nose briefly in the blooms. “But, um, I’m not done with work yet.” He gestures toward the dessert he’s been lovingly constructing. Then he glances around at the others again. He whispers at Dean, “Are they waiting for something?”
Dean is so off-kilter that he’s not sure how to respond. Luckily, Wisit responds for him.
“We’re waiting for the kiss! Come on now!”
Dean blinks. The kiss? He looks at Pharm. His boyfriend is almost as red as the roses clutched in his hands. And then Dean falls back to earth. This is Pharm, his boyfriend, the man Dean plans to actually propose to someday. He loves him and he doesn’t mind if the whole world knows — he’d like the whole world to know, in fact. But that doesn’t mean Pharm is ready for public displays of affection on that scale.
“Pharm…” he murmurs, and Pharm looks up at him, worry in his eyes. Dean understands. He gently nudges the bouquet aside so he can wrap Pharm in his arms, hugging him tightly, burying his face in his hair. Pharm’s coworkers break into cheers, but Dean can feel Pharm trembling slightly in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispers so only they can hear. “I told P’Wisit I wanted to take you home early, but I should’ve warned you.”
“Oh.” Pharm finally winds an arm around Dean’s waist to hug him back though he hides his face against Dean’s chest. “Okay,” he whispers. “Let’s go home.”
Dean’s heart rate picks up. He squeezes Pharm tight for a second longer and then releases him with a grin. He grabs Pharm’s free hand and looks around at their audience.
“Sorry, everyone,” he announces. “But dinner is waiting for the birthday boy. I’m going to take him away now.”
He holds Pharm’s hand tightly as he pulls him through the kitchen, the others all talking over each other, shouting their good wishes and making suggestions for what the two of them should do with their evening — a few of which are much more suggestive than Dean would’ve expected from a bunch of professional chefs. Pharm tries to apologize to Wisit, but the older man waves them on with an indulgent smile and a wagging finger of warning.
“Next time, we better see an actual kiss!”
Pharm is finally smiling by the time they get outside. He buries his face in the roses again.
“Thank you, P’Dean,” he says as Dean guides him to his car. “What are we having for dinner?”
“First things first.” Dean spins Pharm around by the shoulders and bends to kiss him on the mouth. It’s only a gentle press of their lips, but it warms him through like nothing else in the world can. He lingers there for a long moment, Pharm deliciously pliant beneath him, the heady perfume of the roses swirling through the air as the rest of the world fades into the background.
The spell is broken by the sound of Wisit shouting from the back door of the restaurant.
“Just don't rough him up too much, Dean! He still needs to work tomorrow!”
Dean shields Pharm’s blushing face from view as his boss dissolves into bawdy cackling.
Back at Pharm’s apartment, Dean ushers his boyfriend into the bathroom where he previously set up a serene spa-like atmosphere. He sets Pharm’s roses on the counter in a sparkling glass vase, then turns the water on in the bathtub and starts lighting candles. Pharm watches him, smiling. When Dean is done filling the tub he orders Pharm to strip out of his work clothes.
“Now you have to stay in here and relax while I make dinner. Got it?”
Pharm seems charmed by Dean’s efforts and he nods and allows Dean to hold his hand while he gets into the bathtub. He sinks into bubbles up to his neck and promptly closes his eyes with a sigh.
“Relax,” he murmurs as Dean hovers in the doorway. “I can do that, P’. Thank you.”
Dean leaves some low classical music playing as he sidles out, quietly closing the door behind him. The first few steps of his plan to make Pharm’s birthday great have gone off with only minor hitches, namely Dean’s gaffe in the kitchen and Wisit’s ‘advice’. But if Dean can manage to pull off the dinner he’s been practicing with Del’s help, he knows Pharm will forget all about anything else.
When Pharm emerges from the bathroom forty-five minutes later, Dean is frantically airing out the kitchen and swearing at the smoking stovetop. He stops when he sees Pharm pause in the doorway and guiltily drops the dish towel he was just flapping toward the open window.
Pharm looks dewy from the bath, his hair all fluffed up and soft, one of Dean’s hoodies engulfing his slender frame. His eyes go wide as he takes in the scene of chaos Dean has created in his kitchen.
“Ah, Pharm,” Dean says, hastily shifting one of the bubbling pots further back on the stove so that it’s no longer on the burner he can’t seem to properly turn off. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this under control. And I’ll clean everything up when I’m done, I promise.” He wipes an oil-spattered hand across the apron he’d had the foresight to put on before he started. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he insists, rattling through the bowls and dishes he’s scattered all over the counters, searching for something finished he can produce to prove he sort of knows what he’s doing. He comes up with a messily sliced chunk of mango and holds it up in his fingertips, his tentative smile fading into a cringe when he realizes that there is absolutely no hiding just how badly he’s botched this.
“Never mind,” Dean sighs, tossing the mango into a bowl of what was supposed to be batter. “I’ll order something instead.”
He’s reaching for his phone in his pocket when Pharm rushes across the room toward him. The next thing Dean knows, there are soft hands hooked around the back of his neck pulling him down into a frantic kiss. Dean is almost too startled to reciprocate, but Pharm makes an urgent noise and then his lips are parting under Dean’s and — well, Dean isn’t made of steel. He scoops Pharm closer, returning the kiss with a measure of desperation he finds a little embarrassing, although Pharm doesn’t seem to mind. His boyfriend twines his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and hums as their tongues slide together. Dean pushes a hand under the hoodie to curl around Pharm’s waist, feeling warm bare skin still bath-damp. Pharm smells like his eucalyptus bubble bath but there’s a trace of the roses about him too; Dean is dizzy with the intoxicating mixture.
He isn’t sure how long the kiss lasts — seconds, minutes, hours — but Dean is breathless by the time Pharm gently pulls away from him.
“What was that for?” he wonders out loud. “I ruined dinner and your kitchen…”
Pharm’s smile is that one that Dean loves the most, the sparkling bright one that’s like a cloud just revealed the sun.
“But you tried, P’Dean,” Pharm says, a bit breathless himself. “No one but my mom ever cooks for me. It means a lot.” He wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and beams up at him, eyes shining. “I can teach you how to cook if you want to learn, you know.”
Dean smiles helplessly back at Pharm, running a hand — the cleaner one — through Pharm’s hair.
“I could use some lessons from the master, I guess.” Dean glances at the mess and winces. “Maybe many lessons.”
Pharm laughs softly.
“Done.” He pushes lightly at Dean’s chest. “But you still owe me dinner tonight.”
Dean’s grin widens as he pulls Pharm close again and drops kisses on his cheeks and nose.
“Anything from anywhere you want,” he promises as Pharm giggles. “If there’s one thing I don’t need lessons in, it’s ordering food.”
Pharm rises up on his tiptoes and presses a swift kiss to Dean’s jaw.
“You don’t need lessons in being a good boyfriend either,” he murmurs. “That’s one thing you’re perfect at.”
Dean glows with the praise. He catches Pharm for one more kiss, thinking about how lucky he is that they found one another again – because if there’s one thing he truly believes, it’s that they’re perfect for each other. Now and forever.