Re: [Treatment Facility: Dami & Misha]
Damian felt it was unjust—it was unfair to Misha that he, Damian, could not bear the weight of Misha's hurts. It skewed their relationship in a way that felt unsustainable, and this frightened him—beyond the injustice of it, it frightened him. He would have railed against his own need for calm and peace and his weakness, if it meant Misha could be supported. Where the boy thought there was nothing wrong with needing time to build up one's strength, Damian thought there was everything wrong with it and he hated it in himself and he hated that he had made Misha feel he had to not feel to make things work. It was a dangerous precedent, and it felt like a ticking bomb.
"It is not on account of me. You and Catalone were there. Alfred has been ministering to her. It is not me." He plucked at the plaid that laid flopped against Misha's chest. "This does not fit you. You need to go shopping." He knuckled at an eye as he laid his head back down. "What is 'day labor'? I have no doubt Wainright has some tendrils out here, somewhere. It is mostly rural. There will be something. Though, you need not work for your keep. You could use the card and volunteer or some such, if it is more amenable." This seemed a better idea to him, but Misha would know better than him.
Fuzzy cheek against colder-than-normal fingertips was soft and surprising, and Damian wondered what humanity had wrought in Misha. If he reached into the cleave of shirt, would he find the same fuzzy gold halo around nipples as had been there before, when Misha had been especially 'human'? His gaze flicked like a pair of miniature daggers up from his fingers on pale skin to Misha's profile when he was told he was not going home. It had been a plaintive admission. He knew it could not truly happen. His head was against shoulder, but he pinched the boy's nose in retaliation. Just briefly. Because then he was being pet and this was distracting enough for Damian, who had not had any contact with any other person in Misha's absence. It felt like it had been an eternity since he had been held, even, and he was warm in the boy's lap. "You did it for me," was Damian's translation of what occurred. He sounded much more uncertain of if this was wise. "It is temporary? How is it different than 'Falling'?"