In Loving Memory, Frank Warren

Chapter 25: Heavy Bag Time

Sitting in the waiting room of his therapist's office, Frank watched Dean weave his way back with a styrofoam cup of black coffee. Pretending to find a three year old issue of National Geographic completely absorbing, he watched Dean sit opposite. The styrofoam cup lifted to his lips and he took a sip.

His nose scrunched, lips curled down, Dean stared into the cup as he tried figure out what nasty substance could disguise itself as coffee.

"Told you," Frank muttered from behind the magazine.

Turning to the side, Dean chunked the full cup into the wastebasket next to him.

"Wish I'd listened," he replied before scraping his tongue against his front teeth. Frank knew from experience it would not help.

Stunning best described Dean today. His outfit was simple, the black suit and a plain white starched shirt, no tie, the collar open to display his choker. Yet he seemed to radiate life, love and commitment. In Frank's eyes he was no less than stunning.

"Mister Warren?"

Jumping up, Frank waited a moment for Dean to follow before heading towards his therapist. Miss Taylor stood aside for both of them though her eyes reflected her curiosity.

"I'm Sue Taylor," she introduced herself at the doorway to the counseling room when it became obvious Dean accompanied Frank today.

"Dean. Nice to meet you," Dean replied, shaking her hand before entering.

"Is it Mister Dean?" she asked, taking the pen from her notebook to hold out while maintaining eye contact with Dean.

Accepting the pen, Frank tucked it safely away in his jacket pocket as he answered, "Mister Smith."

"No one calls me that," Dean protested with a chuckle. "Dean is fine."

"No, it's not," Frank insisted, pointing out where they should sit on the couch. "She can call you Mister Smith."

"Mister Smith was my father," Dean argued, his lips twitching downward as he sat. "Mom still refers to him as 'Mister Smith'. Do not make her call me that, Frank."

Momentarily torn between the nice politeness he had forged between Miss Taylor and himself and Dean's desire for informality, Frank stood staring down at his love's insistence on this issue. Which was stupid. Technically Dean was a 'Mister Smith', he should own it.

"Fra-a-ank," Dean growled under his breath while shooting a death-glare in Frank's direction.

"Then she's calling you Mister Dean," Frank insisted as he settled himself next to his love. "I'm not willing to compromise any more."

Fully expecting an eyeroll, Frank was pleasantly surprised when Dean nodded in acknowledgement.

"Does this mean I'm also allowed to call you Mister Frank?" Miss Taylor requested with a smile.

Chalk up one for the therapist. How could he say no with 'Mister Dean' seated beside him?

"Sure," Frank sighed, deeply disappointed.

An obnoxious chuckle sounded from beside him and Dean's shoulders shook with mirth while his lively green eyes sparkled. He knew how much this skewered Frank.

"I never did send those flowers to your ex," Frank recalled. "Will your receptionist give me her address? I want to sign the card from Mister Frank."

After Dean stared at him briefly, he did receive his eyeroll. "You would, wouldn't you? Considering how Ginny thinks you're just wonderful because you call her Miss Ginny, I think she'll give you the address." Dean rolled his eyes again.