Re: log: antique store - louis, misha, and damian
When Misha's fingers snared hoodie sleeve, Damian turned without defense. He smiled. Yes, it cracked on lips in a face that was tired, but it was a smile, and the man thought he was getting a kiss. Perhaps they were to whet desire before they went in, to have something tactile for Louis. Perhaps Misha simply wished to kiss him. Damian would have accepted either, or any other reason that allowed him to swing back toward his boyfriend expectantly. As the door bumped closed, however, he realized he was mistaken. Confusion dawned as day did over valley, spreading down from furrow of brows to twitch of lips in a frown, and he was shaking his head before the angel finished his offer. "No."
It was not that he thought something bad would happen to Misha. It was that he was there to help, and he was going to help. And in a flare of frustration, Damian resented being treated as if he were frail or an invalid who needed to toddle off to take his medicine. He blinked up as his cheek was cupped, as he was kissed, and shooed like an errant cat. "No. I am staying." He said this firmer, even in the face of the swipe of thumb. He spread his arms from his sides as if to show the boy. "I am fine." Obviously, he kissed Misha back, but it was a brief point of contact, and he understood that this boy thought he was doing something he had to do. Damian did not miss the earnestness there. He pulled his hands into his sleeves, he glared up. "Why? I am not a child, Misha." Then came the lift of chin, the lofty tone. "I will desire to remain strongly enough that Louis will have to make it so." So there.