John puttered around the kitchen, grabbing a bowl as the microwave beeped its completion. School was over for the year, and he was so tired of working that when his dad had suggested a movie night, he had been totally on board. Especially since there was one movie he needed to watch with the man.

Carefully avoiding the steam, John poured the popcorn into the bowl. It looked awesome, and there was no way he was ever going to hate the stuff. He zapped the butter in the microwave as well, practically drowning the food in it. Perfection.

By the time he exited the kitchen, his dad was already seated on the couch, awaiting the movie. He offered a nod to his son, and John dropped the popcorn on the table before heading over to the movie shelf. It was pretty much overflowing at that point, and he still had some films up in his room. But Dad was okay with it.

It took a minute, however, to find what he wanted. There were so many awesome films on the way, he almost considered watching something else. But that day was special, and dare he say it, too special for Nicolas Cage. Maybe tomorrow they'd watch National Treasure.

But there were more important matters at the moment. He pulled out the DVD, giving a small smile. Lions looked back up at him.

It was time to watch TheLionKing.

As the disc loaded, John settled himself down beside his father. The ads played, and it wasn't long before the older man's eye brow began to ascend.

"John, are you sure?"

The boy turned. His dad was looking a bit older - his hair was getting greyer, and John was doing a bit more of the work around the house now. But he was still his father. And he was right there, right then, not dead.

John had wasted so much time worrying about losing his father that he had forgotten how to just enjoy time with him.

"Of course! It's been forever since we watched it and it's a great movie!" he chirped, pulling the remote and popcorn bowl back towards him.

And the movie started, just like it had years ago. The birth of Simba, the arguments of the brothers, the musical interludes. Both were enwrapped within the movie, crunching quietly on their snack as scene by scene passed.

There. The wildebeast scene.

The flashbacks came on full force. The blood. The red. The seeping and gushing and it clung to every part of his father's shirt, every different pore of his skin was leeching or filled with blood.

His father wrapped an arm around him, and John leaned in. Breath in and out. His father had died. But he was alive now. He was right there.

It hurt less than it had, when Mufasa died. Tears still threatened to spill, but John repeated over and over to himself. It wasn't his father. His father was alive. Right then, right there, watching an amazing movie with him.

Another tight squeeze from his father and the scene had changed. Simba ran and ran, eventually getting through the desert and meeting up with, of course, the comic relief. Slowly but surely, John sat up again, becoming more engrossed in the film then in his father's health.

Besides, the movie had such great scenes. Blood threatened the corners of his mind as Mufasa, as a ghost, greeted his son again, but John stuffed the thought down. This scene wasn't meant for mourning. It was about moving on.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

He met his father's gaze. He offered another smile. "You're here."

"Yes."

"I'm glad."

Because he was. Even if they didn't always get along, there were days like this when they could sit, watch a movie, and it wouldn't even both him. Sure, the thoughts were there...but it wasn't that bad. His father came back.

Simba took his place in the great circle of life, but neither of the Egberts moved as the credits played through. Because it was nice to spend time with his dad without really worrying.

His thoughts trailed back to the last time he had seen it. Over whether or not Simba ever regretted what happened. But, maybe he had friends like John did. And, even if his dad was really gone, there was a part of him that wasn't.

And, maybe, it wasn't John's fault after all.