Night had settled over the house, quiet and still after dinner. Dean stood at the sink, washing the last of the dishes, the warm water slipping over his hands as he scrubbed and rinsed each plate. After drying his hands on a towel, he put the dishes in their places, checking the kitchen one last time to make sure everything was spotless. It was a small ritual, a way to wind down the day, but tonight, his mind wasn't quite at ease.
Behind him, he heard Alex rise from the dining table, where he'd been working on his laptop. Dean turned as Alex walked over to the sofa, where little Kikki had fallen asleep, snuggled against a blanket. With practiced ease, Alex scooped up the sleeping toddler, carrying him back to Dean.
"Are you finished with everything?" Alex asked, his voice soft so as not to wake Kikki.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, all done here."
"Good. Let's go to bed, then."
Dean hesitated, glancing down, feeling a sudden ache he couldn't quite explain. "Actually… I think I'll sleep in my own room tonight."
Alex's expression shifted for a moment, but he only nodded, his face unreadable. "Alright," he said, his tone neutral. "Good night, then." With that, he turned and walked down the hall toward his room, not even looking back.
Dean's heart sank a little. He wasn't used to this. Normally, Alex would tease him or ask again, usually throwing in a reminder of how hard it was to care for Kikki alone. Tonight, though, he hadn't even tried to convince him. Dean lingered there in the kitchen, his chest heavy with a disappointment he couldn't quite explain.
With a soft sigh, he walked back to his own room, closing the door behind him. He sank onto the bed, his mind turning over everything that had happened that day. Lucas… who was he, really? And why had Alex been so furious after his arrival?
His thoughts were interrupted as he shifted on the bed, feeling a dull ache in his shoulder. As if remembering something, he opened the small drawer beside his bed and pulled out a tube of wound cream, the label reading *Aldrene*. Dean carefully took off his shirt, exposing his shoulder, now showing a faint bruise from where Alex had gripped him so tightly earlier.
He twisted the cap off the cream, squeezing some onto his fingers. Just as he was about to apply it, he heard the soft creak of the door opening.
Dean looked up, startled, to find Alex standing in the doorway.
Alex's eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of Dean, shirtless and Dean's fingers paused mid-motion over the bruise on his shoulder.