with this pain in my chest I still wish you the best
“Do you have to chew that loudly?”
Brock raised an eyebrow at Dean’s tone of voice. He chomped once more and Dean groaned, a whiny sound of discomfort. “What’s the matter? Y’didn’t have fun last night?”
“No,” Dean frowned, stirring up his cereal.
Brock grunted, crunching another mouthful of his corn flakes.
“I got to play with Dermott!” Hank piped up gleefully. “Did you see me playing last night, Brock?”
“Yeah, kid, I saw you.” Brock had likely already had his face buried in some top-quality cleavage, but lying to Hank wouldn’t hurt him.
“Attention-stealer,” Dean grumbled.
“Dean, what’s bugging you?” Brock wondered. “Y’got a stomach ache?”
A low sigh. “It’s….her.” The intensity of Dean’s tone put Brock on immediate alert.
Hank snorted. “I told you, Deano! You’ve gotta branch out! There’s lots more cows in the sea!”
“Fish,” Brock muttered.
“That’s what I learned in the science bed,” Hank insisted.
Brock shook his head. “Kid, you’ve gotta relax. If you press on a girl too hard she splits. Like a zit.”
“Eww,” Dean remarked, then he sighed. “I think she’s got another guy, Brock.”
“Then you’ve gotta back off,” Brock said. “The girl wants someone else…” something dark flashed through Brock’s expression at that, “then there isn’t a thing you can do about it. As long as you’re not stalking her…”
Dean lowered his gaze to his lap, and Brock instinctively knew what that gesture meant. “Aw, Dean, you didn’t!” He shook his head. “I taught you better than that!”
“No you didn’t,” Dean muttered. Brock winced. “It’s not that bad, either – I just…tried to claim her.”
Brock groaned. “Dean…”
“Dermot said I should!” Dean protested.
Brock sighed. “Don’t go to Dermott for romantic advice. The kid’s probably still got his cherry.”
“Nah, not cherries. I’m pretty sure he’s got an orange tree at his house,” Hank said cheerfully, his mouth full. Dean scowled at his cereal.
“Hank, can you gimmie a couple of minutes alone with your brother?”
“Can I eat in my room?” That was a rare treat – Doc didn’t like it when they ate upstairs, he thought that attracted mice.
“Sure.”
Hank left the table with his bowl, merrily happy to be doing something ‘rebellious’.
Brock pulled his chair closer to Dean’s. “Last night I let the only woman I love fall off a cliff because she would rather be right than good.” He leveled Dean with his look. “Which of us had the worst night?”
Dean frowned. “You. Easily,” he groaned. “Why’s it so hard to let a girl go?”
“Stop it, kid. You’re turning into your dad!” Dean whimpered. “Just…don’t be so desperate. Let her come to you. Let THEM come to you,” Brock said. “Cause nothing turns a girl off faster than desperation. Just act like an adult.”
Dean frowned. Then his eyes lit up. “Jiminey Crickets! I think I’ve got it!”
“Got what?” Brock bit his banana.
“I’ll grow chest hair!”
Brock groaned. “Dean…”
“If I look more like a keen grown-up, Triana will like me again! Thanks, Brock!” Dean scampered off to forthwith the lab.
Brock lit up another cigarette. Watching the orange flame dance, he remembered Mol and sighed. Mol had chosen death and Brock, who had grown and flowered in carnage – had chosen life.
There wasn’t time enough for irony – he had work to do.