The Real Reason Dillon Spilled His OJ
He was dreaming again.
Not about the familiar blind girl he had failed to protect, nor of the Venjix compound where he usually was in his haunting dreams.
No, Dillon was dreaming about the resident yellow ranger.
They were in a house together, standing in a room painted all in blue. Summer was putting a small form inside the crib that stood in one corner. "Good night, little guy," she whispered to the sleeping baby.
Summer came to stand beside him once more, reaching for his hand. He saw that the ring finger of her left hand was adorned with a simple wedding band, a single perfect diamond perched in the center of it. "Come on, he's finally sleeping." She tugged him out of the baby's room and into a little hallway.
Dillon continued to allow Summer to pull him through the house. She stopped at the opposite end of the corridor, pushing open another door. She ushered him inside, and suddenly she was all over him, all but shoving him onto a big bed in the center of the room. It seemed to be familiar, a pattern they knew well as she lowered herself onto him…
The scene shifted, and he found himself cradling a very naked Summer in his arms. They were tangled in light yellow bed sheets, and her head was resting on his chest. Her breathing was deep and even; she was asleep. He was absently stroking her silky golden locks and every so often he would plant a kiss on the top of her head.
And then the baby started to cry in his room down the hall…
Gradually the dream world Dillon had been residing in drifted away. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized that it had been that damn alarm clock that had ripped him out of his dream.
The black ranger slammed his hand on top of the clock in a hurry, hoping to shut the stupid thing off. He used a lot more force than was strictly necessary, and sure enough, he had left quite a dent on top of it. He sighed quietly as he sat up.
His black T-shirt was sticking to him uncomfortably, and farther south, there was a shift in his anatomy. Dillon now groaned as he got out of bed and headed for the shower. He was really hoping cold water would work its magic yet again.
It was normal, right? It was normal for people his age to be dreaming about sex. It had to be. The more he thought about this argument, however, the less it made sense. He was a mutant hybrid who didn't have the slightest clue about who he was, let alone how old he was.
Dillon sighed again. It had to be a normal occurrence, but did he have to have dreams about Summer? She was his teammate, his friend. She trusted and cared about him. Somehow, dreaming about being intimate with her seemed like a massive invasion of her privacy. He was sure that if Summer knew just how much he thought about her, and the context he thought about her in she would have been extremely embarrassed.
Last night had not been the first time he and Summer were getting it on in his dreams. In fact, he found Summer starring in them almost as often as he found the other girl, the one he remembered so very little of.
However, the most recent fantasy, the one with the little baby, had never taken place before. Until that point, he merely thought he dreamt about Summer because he found her attractive. But with this new detail added, he was beginning to realize that he did want more. The image of Summer with their baby in her arms was one he wouldn't mind seeing for real.
Dillon finished up with his shower, wrapping a towel firmly around his waist as he headed back to his room to get dressed. Once finished with that task, the black ranger went down to the main floor of The Garage to make himself breakfast.
He had just finished sliding his omelet onto a plate when he began to hear signs of life among his teammates. Like every morning, Scott, Flynn and Ziggy promptly began arguing over use of the shower, while the water in Summer's bathroom was running at full blast. The black ranger shoved thoughts of Summer in the shower from his mind.
Dillon opened the refrigerator doors and began to scan the shelves for something to drink. He ignored the smoothie Flynn hadn't finished the day before, as well as the carton of milk he was sure had expired last week. Finally, he found a jug of orange juice.
Dillon had just finished getting himself a glass of OJ when someone put a hand on his arm. "Good morning, Dillon," chirped Summer cheerfully. "How did you sleep?"
The sound of the yellow ranger's voice brought back all the sounds and images from his dream. He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on something else. The memory of a naked Summer in his arms, soft and warm, seemed to have tattooed itself onto the back of his eyelids, so closing his eyes didn't help. "Dillon?" Summer asked. "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine," he answered too quickly. He gathered up his plate, but he was trying so hard to not seem weird that he knocked over the glass of juice. "Damn," he muttered to himself as he began to clean up his mess.
When the juice was cleaned up, Dillon rushed back upstairs, abandoning his omelet. Summer smiled sadly to herself before helping herself to his breakfast.
Poor Dillon. He must have had another nightmare.