Page 93 of Should the Sky Fall

His eyes fly open when he feels something touch his arm, tentative and barely there.

“It’s okay, Cal,” Dawson whispers, so quiet that Cal might’ve missed it if he wasn’t holding his breath.

His hands uncurl.Slowly, so as to make his intention clear and not startle him again, Cal’s larger hand slips over Dawson’s, covering it fully. The contact soothes him, tension leaving his body until he begins to sink into the mattress. Wanting—needingDawson closer, he brings their joined hands to the center of his chest, over his racing heart.

Dawson doesn’t try to pull away. They stay like this until Cal’s eyelids start to grow heavy again. He’s still reluctant to let himself fall asleep, but with the comforting weight of Dawson’s hand on his chest, it’s a little easier. Dawson’s probably already asleep, not haunted by nightmares like Cal.

It's not until sleep has pulled Cal almost completely under that he hears Dawson speak, voice quiet and shaky.

“Whoareyou?”

He doesn’t understand the question. He wants to ask, but he’s too far gone, too detached from his body. Maybe he’s not awake at all and simply dreaming of his husband again. Whichever it is, the words reach deep inside him, settling heavily in his heart. They feel important, but he can’t put his finger on why.

He doesn’t know who he is, but he’ll be whoever Dawson needs him to be.

Cal is still out of sorts the next morning, the visions of the dream—the nightmare haunting him. He sneaks a peek at Dawson whenever he’s not looking, needing a constant reminder that everything is okay. He’s aware he’s acting like a creep, but Dawson got annoyed when he noticed Cal looking, so it’s probably better to hide it.

Cal’s spirits are lifted when Dawson announces he’s making pancakes. He tries to pay attention to what Dawson is doing but keeps getting distracted—both by the dream and by Dawson’s lovely face. Then there’s a moment when their eyes meet and Cal almost looks away, pretending he wasn’t staring, but Dawson doesn’t seem bothered this time. He gives him a big, gentle smile that transforms his whole face, and Cal wants to…he wants to…

He doesn’t even know, and before he can figure it out, the pancakes are ready.

Cal doesn’t hold back, piling several of them on his plate as they sit down at the table. He feels a little bad for not waiting for Dawson who put all this effort into making breakfast, but he’s starving, the vanilla scent taunting him and making his mouth water.

“Why do I even try?” Dawson says with a dramatic sigh. His expression is disapproving as he watches Cal pour a quarter of the bottle of maple syrup over his pancakes.

Cal shrugs sheepishly. At least he’s not asking for donuts. Dawson should take it as a win.

After they’ve finished, Cal offers to do the dishes which Dawson shuts down.

“Ellis is coming over tonight, so we might as well just load the dishwasher and deal with it afterwards. Speaking of, I need to make a short run to get some stuff for dinner. You wanna come with?”

“More shopping? Didn’t we get enough?”

Dawson snorts. “Yeah, we’re all stocked up, but Ellis has some dietary restrictions. There’s this organic shop a couple blocks down. I literally just need to grab a thing or two.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you. When do you want to go?”

“Now’s good.”

“Can we stop at the cafe on our way?”

Dawson gives him a chastising look. “It’s the other way, and no. No more sugar for you. I’m surprised your pancreas is still working.”

“My pancreas works just fine,” Cal grumbles.

It’s a short walk to the store, as Dawson said. He finds what he’s looking for quickly, except his shopping basket definitely contains more than ‘a thing or two’.

“I got carried away,” he mumbles, blushing, when Cal looks at him in question.

“Uh-huh.”

Dawson scowls. “Hey! You’re the one who gets to eat whatever I cook with this, so shush.”

He makes a good point. Cal keeps his mouth shut.

On their way back, they pass by what looks like an art studio. He stops, looking inside through the glass. There’s no one in, but the place is littered with paintings, bottles of paint, brushes, paint-streaked aprons and easels. The banner saysPinot & Piccaso.

“Are these painting lessons?”