family time
“I don’t recognize that. What is it?” Tim asked. The cold almost made it seem like there was actual inflection to his voice.
“Chicken soup, Tim. Someone must of made you chicken soup sometime,” Jason said, never taking his eyes from the stove. Actually, Jason wouldn’t be surprised if no one had- Tim’s parents weren’t ever going to win parent of the year. But there was no need to make Tim feel like he had let too much of himself slip.
“Statistically unlikely. The cooks Mother hired were classically trained in French cuisine. I understand American comfort foods were not a large part of their repertoire.” The scrap of a chair, and then the pad of feet as Tim approached his bad side. “Interesting.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re too cute, baby boy,” Jason rolled his eyes, and took a sip of the soup. Not quite. “I didn’t rush you to the hospital just to poison you now.”
“I’m…aware,” Tim said, leaning in a little. Was that actual hesitation? Jason turned to look towards his little brother. He was actually frowning- or doing something that suggested frowning, in the shape of his brow and the angle of his mouth.
“You keep doing that, and I’m going to hug you whether you like it or not.” Jason reached out, with his bad hand, and rested it on the back of Tim’s head. That was usually safe.
“I’m not averse to hugging. Just touch.” Tim leaned in a little more. Jason figured that was as much invitation as he was going to get. Wrapping his bad arm around Tim’s shoulder in a way that didn’t put pressure on his hand or wrist took some maneuvering, and eventually Tim was pressed- lightly- against his side, with Jason’s arm over his shoulder. Tim went rigid, but he didn’t pull away.
“Chicken soup, Tim. Someone must of made you chicken soup sometime,” Jason said, never taking his eyes from the stove. Actually, Jason wouldn’t be surprised if no one had- Tim’s parents weren’t ever going to win parent of the year. But there was no need to make Tim feel like he had let too much of himself slip.
“Statistically unlikely. The cooks Mother hired were classically trained in French cuisine. I understand American comfort foods were not a large part of their repertoire.” The scrap of a chair, and then the pad of feet as Tim approached his bad side. “Interesting.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re too cute, baby boy,” Jason rolled his eyes, and took a sip of the soup. Not quite. “I didn’t rush you to the hospital just to poison you now.”
“I’m…aware,” Tim said, leaning in a little. Was that actual hesitation? Jason turned to look towards his little brother. He was actually frowning- or doing something that suggested frowning, in the shape of his brow and the angle of his mouth.
“You keep doing that, and I’m going to hug you whether you like it or not.” Jason reached out, with his bad hand, and rested it on the back of Tim’s head. That was usually safe.
“I’m not averse to hugging. Just touch.” Tim leaned in a little more. Jason figured that was as much invitation as he was going to get. Wrapping his bad arm around Tim’s shoulder in a way that didn’t put pressure on his hand or wrist took some maneuvering, and eventually Tim was pressed- lightly- against his side, with Jason’s arm over his shoulder. Tim went rigid, but he didn’t pull away.