“Sure, baby.” Chelsea gave Cain a wink over Molly’s head, and the little girl shrugged, more self-acceptance in that one gesture than Cain had likely ever had in his entire life.
A lock in Damon’s chest broke open with an almost audibleclick.
Yeah, Cain was gorgeous and rich, and yeah, he’d been raised in a lifestyle Damon couldn’t imagine… but none of that had any effect on who Cain was inside because he didn’t believe himself worthy of any of it.
Cain was constantly worrying, constantly pleasing everyone else, constantly hiding himself, and never realizing just how funny and caring andgoodhe was. The very idea that Cain didn’t know this about himself made Damon’s chest hurt, and for the moment all the other very serious problems confronting them paled in comparison to this one. He needed to make Cain see how special he was.
He limped towards the table as Chelsea and Molly said their goodbyes, and hauled himself up onto the table top. They sat in silence for a moment, Damon enjoying the chill in the air, Cain staring at Molly’s drawing.
“Don’t suppose you’re as excited about chicken fingers as Molly?” Damon said finally, and Cain looked up.
“Yeah. That’s fine. Whatever you want,” he said listlessly. His shoulders slumped, his eyes dull.
“Whatever I want.” That opened up a whole range of possibilities in Damon’s mind - possibilities he wasn’t sure he had the self-control right then to hold himself back from exploring.
He grabbed the collar of Cain’s shirt and pulled him in towards the table, leaning over him. “WhateverI want? You sure?”
Cain’s eyes widened and lit up instantly, like a switch had flipped. “What are you… what?”
Damon smirked as he stood, grabbing Cain’s hand. “Let’s go check out our room."
