Papa Bear

Fairy Wings and Whiskey

She's four, a fluttering fairy, and the spitting image of her mother.

The prettiest little fairy in a garden full of little girls dressed in shiny polyester and filmy wings. Emerson Rose with her the large purple wings that flicker in the bright heat of the afternoon and fan glitter all over his legs when, in her unending happiness at his presence, she circles his legs, arms wrapped around his calves, and tight-covered feet dipping in and out of the dark grass.

"There she is!" Dean's voice rumbles in his chest, the last remnants of a cold that'd left him bed-ridden and almost completely immobile the week before. "How's the birthday girl?"

Without warning, he scoops her up, and shakes her about, listening to the excited squeal of the little fairy and the long drawl of his name, "Deeeeeaaaaannnn!"

"Hi Emmie!" Dean chirps back with a soft laugh.

"You made it!"

"Of course, I did!" he smiles, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. "Happy Birthday, kiddo!"

Teri watches from the artful arrangements of snacks she'd laid out before the party started - she chooses not to tell some of her friends that her and Emerson had snuck a few bites of cookie dough. They weren't fans of their kids having the sugary treat but relented with pursed lips while out in public. They would no doubt spit venom at her for daring to indulge her child a simple treat.

"You my present?" Emerson's voice brings her back to the party. "You be my present?"

"Well, I brought you one, too." he motions to the bag at his feet. "But, if you want me to be, I'll be your present."

"I do!"

"Alright then, kiddo." Dean laughs and it's deep and hoarse and Teri winces at how painful it sounds. He's well past the point of being contagious, she knows, but he still looks miserable and she wonders if he really has the energy to be here or if he was too determined for his own good.

"Yay!" Emerson squeals, throwing her little arms around his neck. Her mouth pops loudly against his cheek and she declares, all sass and determination. "You Papa Bear, now!"

"Oh, am I?" his eyes flick to Teri, who looks amused but not surprised at the new nickname he's been given. "Well, what does that make you?"

"I Emmie!"

"So, I'm Papa Bear and you're my Emmie?" Dean questions softly.

Emerson nods, squeezing him in a tighter hug. When she's satisfied that Dean both brought her a present, and is her present, he lets her down to go join the circle of fairies chanting some song learned in preschool.

"You look miserable," a paper cup is pressed into his hand - thankfully, not pink, but blue. The contents resemble iced tea but he's almost afraid to ask. With the cold still ravaging his immune system, it could be anything, from actual iced tea to some sort of concoction Teri mixed up to help him beat his illness. She waits until he takes a tentative sip to remark, "It's whiskey."

It takes every ounce of will-power, he has left, not to choke on the liquid currently burning his throat to hell. The only upside to the pain of good whiskey is his throat is pleasantly warm and numb, now.

"You didn't have to come, y'know?" she touches his arm to make sure she has attention.

"Emerson wanted me to come and I couldn't let her down." his voice is a rasp, now, but it doesn't hurt to talk, anymore. He can handle having a raspier voice. "I want to be here. I'm just not sure my immune system can handle it."

"I don't think you need to be here." Teri points out, "Do you know how many germs she brings home from pre-school? Half her class had a cold last week. I had to spray Lysol on everything until it was all over."

"I'll be fine."

"I'll give you twenty minutes and then I better see you going home to get some rest." Teri wagged a scolding finger at him. "Emerson can see you when you get better. You don't have to risk your health for her."

"She's worth it - I'm fine. You're such a Mom, now." his elbow nudges her stomach playfully. "Always worrying about me."

"Someone has to." she pinches what little bit of him she can grab through his t-shirt. "You certainly don't worry about yourself."

"Gotta look after my girls." Dean winks.

From the patio doors, glittering present in hand, Jon Tenney watches his soon to be ex-wife flush from what he can only assume is flattery, and he can just see the smile on Dean's face. Dean. Of course. He knew they remained close after the show's cancellation and he knew that Emerson adored him, but he didn't expect him here. Maybe he should have.

Teri touches Dean's arm, giggles something up at him, and Dean's head tilts back in laughter. Whatever they have, it obviously means a lot to them. It's obviously something they've built together.

He won't get in the way.

That doesn't take the sting out of seeing his daughter rush Dean's legs and grin up at him like he is her own personal superhero. But, he knows Emerson has a heart of gold and can love both of them freely.

His girls are loved.

That's all Jon could ask for.