Matt's been out of the cast for weeks and doesn't even use the cane anymore, making it easily from the car to the front door with no trouble, so John should absolutely positively not be hovering like a mother hen. And then there's a spot of black ice and Matt is down, and John thanks Christ he was at Matt's elbow as he drops the grocery bags, a cucumber and some asparagus flying five feet past them in the air to land somewhere in New Jersey and the contents of the now-broken full-pulp orange juice container seeping into the snow, and his hands are slapping at Matt's leg and his chest as he's reaching for his cell to call 911.

And when Matt palms his cheek and leans up to kiss him, John figures it's about time he admitted he's over the moon for this damn kid.