Dean mocked her with his face in the mirror, before laughing at her words and his faces, “I would say I’m slightly domesticated…like a feral neighborhood cat.”

As she mentioned how much his help meant to her, he felt the need to kiss her cheek or neck, but with the brush coming toward her hair, he decided against it.  Instead, he simply placed a hand on her hip and pressed up against her back with a smile, “I wouldn’t miss this.  After this, we can work on moving forward.  No more lies.  No more acting.  Just me, and you taking on whatever it is that we are forced to.”

As he spoke, he noticed the tears in her eyes, watching her move from one piece of hair to another.  He kept close to her back, watching her in the mirror carefully, trying to be as there for her as possible, without getting in the way.