LA smirked, peeking open one eye to stare at Cass.
“What?” Cass pouted. “Do I sound like a Hallmark card again?”
“Just a little.”
“Well! Here. I have just one more for you.” Cass petted LA’s hair. “Your family is awful and wrong to have hurt you and for continuing to hurt you. Soverywrong. And while I am sorry that you suffered, I am proud of you.”
LA blinked. “What for?”
“For taking that pain and making it into something beautiful.” Cass nodded at the paintings. “You took agony and made it into art.”
LA’s eyes burned and he wiped at them. “Uh, thanks.”
“Of course, Elly.” Cass purred, rubbing LA’s chest. “You know, if you are concerned about the lack of paintings, you could always make new ones.”
“Seriously?”
“Why not?” Cass smiled encouragingly. “It was a productive way for you to process your feelings when you were younger.”
“Maybe.” LA’s fingers twitched a little. “But I don’t have any paint—”
A pack of acrylic paint, a large canvas, and a bundle of brushes appeared on the coffee table in a flurry of confetti.
LA laughed.
“Is this all right?” Cass asked.
“It’s pretty perfect actually.” LA smiled, reaching out to touch the canvas. “Wow.”
He could see sweeping colors standing out against the darkness, a rainbow wave and golden glittering orbs…
“Okay. Dammit.” LA grunted as he sat up. “Help me clear off the table.”
“Yay!” Cass cheered, jumping to his feet.
LA opened up the paints one by one. “Look, it’s probably not going to be very good.”
“I’m sure it will be splendid, Elly.” Cass dropped another kiss on LA’s head. “I am so very excited that you’ve been touched by the creative spark!”
“Maybe later, somethin’ else can touch me,” LA said casually.
“Wait…” Cass tilted his head. “Is that a euphemism for something sexual?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
“Oh!” Cass giggled. He stood tall, his tail twitching as he teased, “Well, maybe if you’re lucky, something will touch your something.” He wagged his brow and gave LA a smoldering stare. “Sexually.”
LA swallowed back a laugh. “Looking forward to it.”
Cass tidied up the table so LA could center the canvas and line up his paints. “Is there anything else you need for your creative process?”
“Oh, definitely gonna need some Alan Tudyk.”
“Firefly?”
“Fuck yeah,Firefly.”
Cass handed him the remote. “Thoughts on lunch?”
