- Chris Evans’ mom for GQ Magazine (July 2011)
CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT HOW WEST LEANS FORWARD
AND RESTS HIS ENTIRE BODY AGAINST MISHA’S HEAD
YES WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT
WE CAN TALK AGOUT IF FOREVER AND EVER AMEN
“Can you say ‘da-da’? Come on, Sammy! Da-da. ’sreal easy! You can do it!”
The baby just giggled, bearing his baby gums where all those teeth were starting to poke through, and those dimples on his cheeks that Dean liked a whole lot because if he could see those, then Sam was smiling, and he didn’t do too much of that. He was a baby. He cried all the time. Sammy didn’t say anything, though, just pushed his lips out and blew through them, blowing hot air onto Dean’s face. He giggled. ”Thass not what I said, Sammy! C’mon! Da-da! You can do it!”
“Oh, Sammy. You’re cute but you’re totally useless! C’mon, say, ‘da-da.’ It’s easy!”
“Dean! Would you quiet the hell down?! I’m tryin’ to concentrate here! Jesus fuckin’ Christ…”
Dean’s entire body seized up as he jumped four feet into the air, startled by John’s loud and innocuous voice echoing through the house.
It’s quiet for a moment, dead quiet. Dean feels guilty. He can feel the heat of it pooling in his belly and he wants to curl into a ball and cry because he hates it when John curses, but then Sam reaches out and pulls on Dean’s shirt. It doesn’t mean anything, Sam’s just a baby, but Dean pulls him into his arms anyways and cuddles with him, and that’s when Sam says his first word.
“Dee!” Tiny baby hands reach out and push Dean’s cheeks together, and then Sam laughs. ”Dee! Dee!”
And Dean can’t stay sad for long, so he smiles back, wrapping his hands around Sam’s and pulling them away from his face. ”You’re supposed to say ‘dada.’ Do you listen to anything anyone says, Sammy?”
“Dee.” Sam falls forward into Dean’s arms, tucking his head into the crook of Dean’s shoulder. He falls asleep about two minutes later, and so does Dean, and they stay like that for a while, cuddled and tangled in each other asleep because John doesn’t have the heart to wake them.
“I’ll see you at home, ‘kay?” says Tony, waving.
Steve watches him go, a little lightheaded and giddy; his heart feeling too tight and too warm for his chest, like he’s about to burst.
He likes it when Tony says the word ‘home’.