"She's teaching me how to breathe."

"How to breathe? Franks, I think you already know how to do that one."

I shook my head. "No… Like… you know how sometimes I get gaspy and can't breathe properly for a bit? When I'm freaking out?"

"Yeah," Dean shifted in discomfort. He absolutely hated it when I did that. When I'd start to hyperventilate he'd flutter about me in distress, hopelessly unsure of what to do.

"She's trying to make it so that won't happen. Or it'll happen less."

"..oh. Well… that's good."

The look on Dean's face was skeptical. As a rule he- we actually- didn't trust therapists. Thought they spewed a bunch of bull and were paid to do so. Both of us had suffered from being diagnosed with many disorders, from OCD (that one was mine) to being called a borderline sociopath (Dean's favorite of his diagnoses). From care home to care home they seemed to forget which therapist they sent us to, so our fosters would either take us to new ones if we started having "behavioral problems" or not take us at all. You learn to block out the different faces and different illnesses they say you have.

"But this one is different," I insist out loud, following my train of thought.

Dean picked it up without missing a beat. "What makes this head shrink different from all the others?"

I look at my hands as I say, "… she looked at me when we- she- talked, not at her pad. She didn't write much of anything down even. I didn't say anything, I haven't forgotten our rule about counselors, but she didn't try to make me say anything. The fosters freaked out a few days ago when I had a panic attack, which is why I got sent in the first place, so all she did was give me techniques to avoid them. She was… nice."

"They're getting craftier," Dean said with a chuckle. I punched his arm in annoyance.

"Fuck off! I like this one. She's not just in it for a check."

"Don't forget the rule Franks."

"I won't. I'm the one who made it up aren't I? You used to babble away to anyone about anything and it was always getting you in trouble."

"A'right! You've made your point. I'm the one who needed to be reigned in. You knew to keep quiet. About everything."

I looked away, because he was circling something I was not about to talk about. "Anyway, I'm not gonna tell her anything Dean. But if I can learn to work on my panic attacks and she doesn't press then it's a win-win situation."

Dean examined my face closely. Finally he said, "So how's she teachin' you to breathe then?"

"She said to take in a breath and hold it for five seconds, then breathe out for eight seconds. It slows your heart down or something. If it gets worse you breathe in and out longer."

Dean sucked in a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks comically. I felt a blush rise in my cheeks. He was teasing me. Instantly noticing my embarrassment Dean let out the air in his lungs and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry Lion. I don't mean to make fun of it if you need it. I just don't like head shrinks is all… They try to shove pills down our throats when there's nothing wrong with us. We see the world right, it's everyone else who's messed."

"… well I think we're messed too Dean. Just not in the same way as everyone else."

Dean rolled his eyes and started to stomp his foot on the deck rhythmically. "At least we have reason to be. And I happen to think we're fucked up in a better way."

I sucked in air and held it for five seconds, trying to be discreet about it. Breathed out for eight. Then I said in a low voice, "We're not the same as them and it scares them."

"Exactly Franks! You got it!" Dean beamed at me and scooted closer. "We're different and they don't like it." The air around me grew warmer as his body heat grew closer. I smirked patronizingly as he leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. "It's you and me against this fucked up, boring world."

"If you say so Dean," I said in a light, mocking tone.

"I do," he declared confidently. He locked his arm around mine and pulled me close. I pretended to give an exasperated sigh. Dean raised an eyebrow mischievously and let go of my arm, then jumped on me and started to tickle me. "Say you agree with me Franks! Say it!" He crowed.

I squealed happily as he tickled me, trying to twist away from his flying hands. Soon I was gasping for air and I screamed, "Alright! You win, you win!"

Dean laughed and got off. I narrowed my eyes but couldn't stop the grin on my face from growing. "Cheeky bastard."

"Me in a nutshell."

We leaned our backs against one another and tried to catch our breaths. Suddenly his hand was on top of mine and he was lacing his fingers through mine. "Love you Franky."

The air left my lungs.

1,2,3,4,5.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8.

"Love you too Dean."

Breathe in. Breathe out.