Re: [Island to Shore: Dami & Misha]
[Smugness eked into Damian's voice. It came with its usual superior pleasure.] You are lucky. [Now, the man could be arrogant and let us just say he had a good deal of self-confidence when it came his own skills and usefulness. And Misha was lucky, just as Damian was lucky to have him. He did not even argue that luck had nothing to do with it, as he understood now it was not about that, and as he was smug and pleased.—And, as far as stalling went, it was not as if Damian did not remember the 'poor man' on the beach or Louis. He did. (And he hated them.) But, he did not rush either. He was not frantic to close the hatch and begin their way to the house on the lake. He was not stalling for the reasons Misha was, obviously, but he wanted time with the boy—and he wanted Misha to feel better. He wanted to help him feel better, without having to tend to others.
Perhaps it should have disturbed Damian that he enjoyed fingers in his hair, as, when it came down to it, it was being pet. But, it did not. He liked Misha's fingers in his hair, as much as he liked his fingers in Misha's hair, and if he had been a cat, just then he would have been purring. But, he was not. So he did not. Instead, he tipped his head into the touch.] Yes, it is true, I am here for you. But it is still my choice. And you come for me, as well. [The conversation turned to what Misha missed in his madness, and, in spite of the seriousness of the topic, the boy laughed as Damian peered at him from on high. He did not ask why, as hands went to his hips and he was pleased by this. He placed his own palms on narrow hips, all pink-tulle petals and bared skin. He caressed over bone with his thumbs.] You are capable of it. [Damian frowned slightly. He did not know if he was invalidating the angel's frustrations, so he sought to come at it from a different angle.] He did not die. You are... frustrated about the island, about not reaching me. [This was a statement.] Is this why you have ended up here? [Damian lifted his hands, so that he might cup Misha's face as Misha has his. It felt as if it might be reassuring.] You cannot let it eat at you, Misha. It is done with, and what happened that night, does not mean you will not be capable of helping next time. [Sound logic.
And the cupping ended up being very useful, as Misha dipped in for a kiss. Damian was just was hungry for it, just as eager. He practically melted against the angel, suddenly close in a crush, and he wished to deepen the kiss, to continue it, but the boy reeled himself back. Damian frowned as he mourned the loss, his gaze heavy on chapped lips. Eventually, he looked up. His hackles did not raise as immediately as they had over the phone, but the topic was no longer as raw. As I said, to Damian, it was over and done with.] What is there to talk about?