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As the months went by, Lisa watched Dean learn every detail of her life. It started with Ben. Dean learned Ben’s birthday, his middle name, and every medical issue he ever had, just in case there was an emergency. Next were Ben's favorite kinds of sandwiches (Dean actually enjoyed packing all of their lunches, somehow) and which classic rock songs he sang along to in the car. After that came Lisa’s life—which brand of beer she drank, her favorite restaurants to order from, and where she went to high school. On her birthday, he got a gift card to the right nail salon and a bottle of Sapphire gin (the only kind worth drinking). He met her sister, then her parents, and she suspected they liked Dean more than they liked her. Within six months, Dean was fully part of the family.
Except for one thing.
It wasn’t anyone's business, really. She only told her job because she had to use medical leave for her episodes. Her friends all thought she was perfectly healthy (if a bit flaky with plans). The only people who really deserved to know were her family, because they saved her ass by taking Ben during her flare ups.
Lisa had lived with multiple sclerosis for nearly a decade now. It wasn't a big deal anymore. Hell, sometimes even she forgot that she had it. Everyone called out sick eventually. She forgot that her coworkers did it for very different reasons.
Lisa knew damn well that MS was a problem for some people. When she went to the neurologist, the place was jam packed with walkers and wheelchairs and catheter bags. But that wasn't Lisa. She taught yoga, for God's sake. If she could do the wheel pose, obviously her body was perfectly fine.
Lisa just had occasional flare ups. Every so often, she took a week off from work. That was it. She had still lived alone since she was twenty. She raised an entire kid by herself, for Christ’s sake. If she could handle that, she didn't need Dean to play nurse.
The first time she relapsed after meeting Dean, Lisa told him she had the flu. She stayed in bed so he couldn't see how unsteady her balance was. A virus was a perfect cover; that was serious enough for Dean to take over cooking and cleaning and driving Ben to school, but not worth any actual worry. Unless you were elderly, you got over the flu just fine. Obviously Lisa would too.
Lisa planned to ask Dean to sleep in the guest room, so he wouldn't catch her stumbling, but she didn't have to. He asked to all by himself. He said he didn't want to get sick. Lisa hadn't thought of that. Hopefully the extra space would keep Dean from being suspicious when he didn’t catch her “flu.”
Dean was helpful. Lisa would admit that. Usually, Ben slept at her sister Cathy’s house during flares. With Dean around, he could stay at home. Dean was just as capable as Cathy when it came to keeping Ben fed and showered and getting him to school and soccer. He took care of Lisa, too; she didn’t have to worry about feeding herself anymore. Normally, she froze meals while she was doing well and reheated them, but getting to the kitchen wasn’t easy during a relapse, even in a single story house, never mind keeping steady enough to actually use the oven. She didn't ask Dean to bring her breakfast and dinner—he thought of that all by himself. He was at work during the day, but that was okay; Lisa was used to skipping lunch during episodes. Three meals a day was way too much walking.
Thank God when Lisa bought this house, she looked for a master bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. She knew the short walk would be needed for flares; she just didn’t realize it would also help her hide wobbling from Dean.
When she was healthy again, the only thing left to do was empty the bathroom trash can, so Dean couldn’t find the pads she used to catch bladder leaks. Otherwise, there was no evidence of her MS at all.
The next time Lisa relapsed, she called it a cold. The time after that was stomach flu—then Dean really stayed away. As long as he never questioned her weak immune system, Lisa could probably keep this up forever.
When Dean first showed up on Lisa’s doorstep, he was a wreck, but that wasn’t true anymore. Within a matter of weeks, he pulled himself together enough to get a job. Now, the only sign of his past was the haunted look in his eyes whenever silence lingered for a little too long. Dean took to the suburban life well; hell, he was so good with Ben that he was often mistaken for his father. If you asked Lisa's friends, Dean would probably stick around forever.
Still, while Lisa pretended to sleep, she heard Dean slip into the garage in the middle of the night. He went out to the bar early and stayed out late. If things were dull for even a moment, he tapped his fingers and bounced his leg relentlessly. Dean wasn’t made for settling down. That was exactly why Lisa hooked up with him all those years ago—Dean was the kind of guy she could trust to be gone in the morning. The plan was for Lisa to never see him again. If it wasn’t for a changeling, that would have worked.
Dean became less sorrowful and more restless with each passing day. He wouldn’t sit around playing house forever. Handling her flare ups alone proved that Lisa didn't need him, after all. She could go back to the way things were unharmed. Dean would take everything with him when he left; this way, she would save something for herself. Maybe then, she wouldn't collapse into a sobbing wreck, the way Dean did when his brother was gone.