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Dean was a man. Correction, Dean is a man.
One who doesn't consider himself to be fragile. He was a very secure guy, not much threatened him. Why should it? He could paint his nails and wear whatever the fuck he wanted. Of course he knew that.
But… it was the emotional part he struggled with. Wearing a tiara is much different from spilling your guts to someone. Even someone you trust.
As much as he liked to say he was nothing like his family, deep down some of it had rubbed off on him. Be strong, don't show emotion, don't be weak.
He'd been working on it with his therapist.
Still, it was difficult for him to let people take care of him.
Which is why, despite being hunched over his toiled hurling his guts up, he tried to insist to his best friend that he was fine.
Parker just rubbed his back and laughed softly. "Clearly not." Dean wretched again, and the older man handed him a paper towel to wipe his mouth.
"I brought stomach medicine, once this slows down we can try to get some into you." Parker hummed sympathetically. His hand was moving in slow, methodical circles over Dean's back. It sent a fresh wave of chills over his body that he suspected might have nothing to do with his fever.
Not like he had time to dwell on this, because his head was back in the toilet, throwing up one last time, before sitting back with a groan.
"We are never eating sushi again."
"Nope, never again." Parker agreed. "Now lets get you up and back to the couch. I'll make some soup." Dean tried to stand up on his own, batting the brunette's hand away.
"No, seriously dude, you've already done too much. I can-" He cluctched his stomach and stumbled back, groaning.
"Dean…" Parker said, with a patient softness he'd only ever heard him use when Momo was misbehaving. "Let me take care of you." He steadied him.
Dean hesitated. He felt like he might fall over if he tried to walk on his own, much less make soup. So he relented. "Fine…" He sighed.
Parker shifted most of Dean's body weight onto him, and lead him out to the living room.
"Parker I-"
"Don't even start." He shut down what was almost certainly Dean saying he would be fine again. "Lay down." His voice was softer this time. He felt the blonde's forehead and furrowed his brow. Dean looked at him with slightly glazed eyes. That made him smile.
"You alright?" He murmured, amused. Dean blinked a few times. "Huh?"
"I'm gonna take that as a no. Now stay here while I make you food. And don't think about trying to get up and come help me, alright Dee?" The other man nodded.
"Good." He said gently, patting his cheek before going off into the kitchen.
He still had a view of Dean from here as he busied himself with getting chicken noodle soup ready. He was by no means a chef, but this was simple enough. And it was Dean, who he would learn to cook a ribeye for if he asked.
But for now, he hoed soup would be enough. Also crackers, because who didn't love crackers? He took the pot off the stove and poured it in a bowl, with an oven mit underneath so Dean didn't burn himself. He put some crackers on the side, and grabbed a ginger ale from the fridge, before putting this on a tray and bringing it to his friend.
"Your michelin star meal, good sir." He said in a fancy voice. That got a smile out of the blonde, who looked so weary otherwise. Parker smiled back. He sat on the floor beside the couch, balancing the tray on Dean's lap.
"Thanks Park." Dean inhaled deeply. "Smells great."
He fed himself small spoonfulls, Parker getting up to bring him napkins.
When he was finished, the older man took the tray and cleaned off the dishes before going back to sit beside Dean.
"Wanna watch a movie?"
"Yes please." The younger on sighed. Parker passed him the remote. "Hey um… I'm sorry if this was any trouble. I know you probably didn't want to spend your Saturday watching me throw up in a toilet."
"Dean," Parker laughed. "there is nothing I'd rather be doing."
He considered his wording for a second. "I mean like… hanging out with you not- not like the throwing up."
It was Dean's turn to laugh. "Oh wowwww, I see, weirdo." Parker nudged him. "You can't be talking about weird." They both grinned.
"I'm glad you're feeling better now, Dee." He felt his forehead.
"Mhm."
His hand went from this motion into brushing a piece of hair off his face. Dean's eyes fluttered shut and he sighed through his nose. Parker rested his chin on his other hand and smiled, stroking the soft blonde waves. Whatever movie Dean had put on played in the background, but Parker's full attention was on his friend, who was slowly falling asleep.
He continued his soft brushes, tentatively running his fingers through the locks. It dawned on him that he'd never touched Dean's hair like this. Never realized how incredible soft it was.
Dean opened his eyes slightly. A sleepy smile touched his lips.
"Parker," He said his name almost reverently. "Thank you for…" His words dropped off.
Parker understood.
"Of course, Dee. Anytime. Any time you need." He swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn't know why but he felt like crying. Happy tears? Maybe.
"Parker," Dean said again.
"Dee?"
"Love you." He mumbled.
The brunette froze.
"I-I-" His mouth fell open. "Love you too." He said, choked. A tear rolled down his face. It was so stupid. Of course he loved Dean. To anyone else it was obvious. Hell, to him it was obvious. But here, sitting in their dim living room with fucking Teenage Mutan Ninja Turles playing on the Tv, it was the first time they said it out loud.
"You're such an idiot." He laughed softly. Dean smiled wide without opening his eyes.
"You're the bigger idiot."
"I know." He sighed, wiping his face. "Trust me I really know."
He took Dean's hand in his, and laid his head on the blonde's shoulder. They fell asleep like that.
His back was going to kill him tomorrow. But who cares? Because Dean loves Parker.
And Parker loves Dean.