Teddy

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" My DAD'S arm windmills in all direction from his stool at the bar top, trying to dodge my attempts to escort him out of The Drinking Hole, his bar of choice.

When I got the call from Shirley alerting me of my dad's impending drunkenness, I was half-tempted to leave him there for once. Let the authorities deal with him when he's arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct.

Every time I rescue him, I swear to myself it'll be the last time. But it never is. I always go when I'm called.

My sister, Sarah, left for college after she graduated high school and never came back. She escaped our father's behavior, leaving the responsibility solely on my shoulders. She wrote him out of her life years ago and she regularly tells me I should, too. But I can't bring myself to do it. Maybe I'm enabling him. Maybe I'm making his life easier than it should be. But he's my dad. How can I just leave him? Even when I really, really want to. Even when I know I probably should.

"Dad," I whisper-shout in an attempt to avoid any further attention on us. I dodge his flailing arm and duck to the other side of him, where I quickly wrap my arm around his waist and tug him off the stool. I somehow manage to catch him before he topples over on me, and I begin walking us toward the exit. He attempts to drag his feet, but he's already unsteady from the amount of alcohol he consumed and he stumbles into a high top table.

"Hey, watch it!" a guy yells as the people at the table hurry to wipe up the spilled beer.

"Sorry, sorry," I apologize, my face heated, both from embarrassment and the effort it's taking me to keep my father on his feet. "Come on, Dad. Let's go."

When I try to lead him in the direction of the door again, he tugs out of my grasp and lashes out at me, a rogue arm pushing me hard. I lose my balance and fall onto my butt on the dirty bar floor.

The fight whooshes out of me and I consider giving up, but just then a pair of hands lifts under my armpits from behind and sets me back on my feet. I know who it is without having to look. I should have known he'd show up. He usually does when it gets this bad.

Shirley must have called him when she saw me struggling. I swear there's a chart she goes by. Drunkenness Level 1-4, leave Larry be. Drunkenness Level 5-8, issue warnings, stop serving him alcohol and call Teddy. Drunkenness Level 9-10, bring in the big guns.

Tonight was a big guns kind of night.

I take a moment to lean back against Jensen, feeling the heat coming off his hard body behind me. His hands slide free of my armpits and settle at my waist as he drops his mouth to my ear. "Teddy." His voice is a rough whisper. "Let's get Larry home, ok?"

I nod a few times, blinking the sudden tears away. I will myself not to cry. I refuse to cry.

When I stay rooted in place, Jensen moves around me and hauls my dad off the floor, where he must have fallen right along with me. He manhandles my dad with ease, making my attempts look pathetic, and I follow the two men out of the bar.

The night is cool, the breeze nipping at me. In my haste to leave my house, I forgot to grab a coat. It isn't warm enough to be outside with bare arms yet. I wrap my arms around my body like I'm consoling myself with a hug, as we walk to Jensen's waiting truck. He'd pulled up right outside the door, not bothering to park in the lot, leaving his truck running.

Although my dad lives within walking distance, Jensen stuffs my dad into the backseat of his extended cab truck. After closing the door, he turns to me, where I'm again rooted in place.

"Hey," he says softly, taking a step toward me. Without taking his eyes off me, he opens the passenger side door with one hand and reaches for me with the other. Then he helps me into the truck and buckles me in. He closes the door, rounds the hood of the truck, and climbs into the driver's seat.

He turns to me and repeats the word again. "Hey." When I stare straight ahead through the windshield, he brushes a hand along my forearm, goosebumps erupting on my skin. "Teddy, hey."

When I finally look at him, the emotions I was trying to hold in trickle down my cheeks. I angrily wipe the tears away with the backs of my hands. I shake my head in an attempt to quell the feelings, but Jensen grips my chin in his hand.

"Teddy, hey, stop. It's ok." His voice is low and gentle. His thumb rubs softly across my cheek, wiping away more traitorous tears. "Let's get him home, ok?"

I try to nod, but his hand is still gripping my chin, holding it in place. His eyes search mine a moment before he releases me and turns to the steering wheel.

He drives the short distance to the two-bedroom ranch home my dad has lived in all my life, parks in the unused driveway, and turns to look at me. "You can stay here, Teddy. I'll take him inside and put him to bed. You don't need to do this again."

I shake my head and open the door. "No, it's ok. I can do it."

Jensen beats me to the door before I can open it to retrieve my dad from the truck. "Fine, Teddy. But I'm helping." He gives me a stern look, gently moving me away so he can open it without hitting me.

My dad is lying lengthwise across the backseat, snoring loudly. It takes Jensen a few tries to extract him from the truck, his body extra heavy in his sleeping form. I run ahead of them to open the front door of the house and flip on lights to clear a path for them. Jensen plops my dad onto the couch, and we tag team removing his shoes and propping his head up with a pillow. I wander into the kitchen for some water and a bucket in case he pukes, and I set both on the coffee table in front of him.

The whole dance feels familiar, and I'm suddenly hit with a wave of anger. I can't do this anymore. I need to leave my dad to face the consequence of his actions. With that thought, I storm through the house, flipping off lights in my wake. I hear Jensen crash into something behind me, cursing quietly, and I stop, waiting for him to catch up.

"Sorry," I apologize once we're outside. I'm not sure if I'm apologizing for leaving him in the dark or that he had to rescue me again. Probably both.

I start pacing along the sidewalk in front of the house, well aware that the nosey neighbors are probably watching the whole show out their front windows.

Jensen steps into my path, causing me to halt abruptly before I crash into him. He steadies me by grabbing my arms. When I stare straight ahead at his chest, he lightly squeezes my arms. "Hey." His voice is still low and gentle. It's so different than the way he usually talks to me. "Teddy, look at me."

When I refuse, he forces my face up by lifting under my chin with his fingers. Once we're gazing into each other's eyes, he drops his hand from my chin and cups my cheeks instead. "You don't have to hide from me. Not ever."

The tears run down my cheeks freely now. There's no controlling them. Not when Jensen is like this. Not when he's looking at me like this and touching me like this and talking to me like this. It's my kryptonite. His thumbs swipe away the tears as he continues to look at me, his blue eyes dark and moody.

We're standing between two streetlights on the city block, both of us backlit, our faces partially in shadow. "You know I'll always come, right, Teddy? Always."

He pulls me into a hug, his long arms wrapping around my upper body. He tucks me under his chin, and I fall into him, my arms going around his waist. I fist my hands into the back of his hoodie, pulling him tighter against me. Our feet are intertwined on the sidewalk, one of mine wedged between his. I can feel his chest move with his deep breaths as he runs a hand up and down my back. His other hand combs through my hair, settling under the braid, and resting his palm against the back of my neck. I hear him inhale deeply with his nose pressed into my hair; and I copy him, breathing him in with my head against his chest.

We stand there like that, wrapped up in each other, for several long moments.

Finally, he circles his hand around to my throat, using his thumb to tilt my face up to look at him. We share some sort of silent conversation as we breathe in each other's air. Sighing against him, I whisper, "You have always been my safe landing spot, Jensen."

Before either of us can say anything else, a rustling sound interrupts the moment. "What was that?"

We perk our heads to listen and hear the noise again. It is coming from my dad's yard. As we inch our way closer to the house, we fall deeper into shadow, and I grip the sleeve of Jensen's hoodie in my hands, walking slightly behind him. "Jensen," I whisper.

Removing my death grip on his sleeve, he tucks me into his side protectively. "It's just some animal, Teddy," he reassures me. "Probably a rabbit." He pulls his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and turns on the flashlight. Caught in the bright spotlight, a brown and white straggly, little dog tries to cower, his tail tucked under his body.

"Oh, Jensen," I say quietly, falling to my knees in the grass. "It's just a little puppy. Look how scared he is." I offer my palms to the scared dog, slowly extending them toward him. He sniffs his nose at me, slowly inching his way across the yard to me where I'm kneeling. When he finally gets close enough to me, I tentatively move my hand toward him, stopping just shy of his head in a silent question. When the puppy doesn't cower away, I softly pet his head right between his ears.

"Hey, little fella. What are you doing here all by yourself, huh?" He must be feeling more comfortable with me because he starts butting his head against my hand, begging for more scratches.

I study the puppy as I rub a hand up and down his little body. He's dirty, mud caked into his fur, but he seems fine otherwise. No obvious injuries or illnesses. And he trusted pretty easily, so no obvious signs of neglect or abuse. His sudden appearance is a mystery.

I pick up his small form and cradle him to my body as I get to my feet. Jensen must sense my thoughts before I get a chance to speak them, because he's suddenly holding his hands up and taking small steps backwards. "No, Teddy. No way. Not happening."

"Jensen," I whine, pouting a little. "It's too late to do anything with this little guy tonight. And we can't just leave him out here. He's just a baby." I shift the puppy in my arms and hold him up to my head so we're cheek to cheek as we both face the man. He steps away from the twin pouts, trying to resist the pleas.

"Teddy," he warns.

A slow smile spreads across my face, my friend's anxiety amusing me. He's never been much of an animal person. The mere thought of bringing a puppy home terrifies him. "Look how cute he is." I hold the dog up, Simba style, to Jensen's face. "See. So cute." I can't help the giggle that slips from my mouth from the scared look on Jensen's face.

"Teddy," he warns again.

"Jensen," I echo back. "I can't have dogs at my apartment. You know I'd take him home if I could. It'll just be one night at your house. And I'll stay the night to take care of him. You won't have to do anything. I'll do everything. I just need to use your place for boarding. That's all. I promise. Please. Just one night. Then tomorrow I'll figure out what to do with him. Maybe someone will be looking for him by then and we can return him home."

He heaves a heavy sigh. "Teddy. You're killing me." He crosses his arms over his chest and groans. "Fine. One night. You do everything. Then he's gone."

"Yes!" I whoop, bobbing in place. "Thank you!" I crush the dog between us as I give Jensen a quick hug.