Page 110 of Should the Sky Fall

Well, Dawson’s definitely having words with Gabe.

Stepping back into the apartment after his session with Ash is strange. It was strange just leaving Ash’s office, like coming back to reality after spending an hour in a different world.

“I’m home!” he calls out as he toes off his shoes and hangs the keys on the hook on the door. There’s no answer. “Cal?”

Silence for a moment, then, “Uh, yeah?”

Dawson looks around, wondering where it came from, then notices the light in the laundry room.

“Are you okay? You sound weird.” He makes a slow approach.

“I’m fine! Don’t come in here!” Cal blurts in a way that’s decidedly not fine.

Feeling his growing panic—what if Cal hurt himself?—Dawson stalks into the laundry room. “Cal, what—” He comes to a halt in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Cal says quickly, standing up from his crouch in front of the washing machine and holding something behind his back. His eyes are wide, his expression guilty.

Nothing, my ass.Dawson looks at the machine, then at Cal, then at the machine. The door is open and there are some pink towels hanging over the rim and—

Wait. They don’t have pink towels.

Realization dawning, Dawson places a hand over his mouth to stop himself from breaking out into hysterical laughter.

Cal must take it for something else, because his already alert expression blooms into full panic. “Don’t be mad,” he says miserably.

Dawson shakes his head, snickering into his hand. “I’m not,” he mumbles into his palm.

Cal starts rambling, showing Dawson his hands, where he’s holding a small—and pink—towel. “I wanted to make myself useful and do laundry. Like you showed me.”

“Okay?” Dawson manages to keep his voice neutral.

“I screwed up,” Cal says, his voice so tragic you’d think someone died. “I’m sorry.”

Swallowing down a laugh, Dawson walks inside. “It’s fine, Cal.”

Cal blinks at him owlishly. “You’re not mad?”

Dawson shakes his head, a coil of affection burning bright in his chest. “I’m not mad.”

Cal lets out a harsh breath. “Still, sorry.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Dawson assures him. He takes the towel from Cal, studying it. “I like this. It’s cute.”

Cal’s nose twitches. “It’s pink.”

“Hey! Pink is badass,” Dawson argues, chuckling. “But if it bothers you, we can give them away. They’re always looking for towels and blankets at the shelter.”

Cal lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Yes, I like that idea,” he nods enthusiastically. “We could get them some more. Go shopping.”

Jesus, who is this man who gets so excited about the prospect of helping animals and doing something just because he can? “Sure. That would be great.”

“Now?” Cal asks, backtracking before Dawson can reply. “Oh, wait. You just got here. You must be tired. How was your appointment?”

Dawson was honest with Cal about the nature of the appointment and answered all the questions he had. Cal was mostly worried he was doing something wrong and that’s why Dawson needed to see a therapist. It was a tricky situation, explaining things truthfully without revealing too much.